Hounds of Orion

The stench of blood and oil filled Logan’s nostrils as he engaged the enemy pilot. His legs felt numb and heavy, straining even more than usual to walk, the uplink screws slotted into his piloting threads demanding more of his strength with every step. It could have been worse though. Crusader’s shield had taken the brunt of his opponents ferocious barrage, letting only a few swings from the berserker’s hand-axes slip past his guard. One had cut deep enough through his armor to shave a chunk of flesh off of his thigh, but not enough to cripple him. The stim delivery system he had installed a week prior had proven to be well worth the silver he spent, pumping adrenaline and pain killers directly into the neural uplink port at the nape of his neck as soon as blood loss had registered. All that was left for him now, was to put the asshole who did this in the dirt.

He looked out across the battlefield, eyes straining to see through the darkness and smoky haze coming from the wreckage surrounding him. He caught an outline of a blocky figure, its metallic shell glinting in the moonlight, and focused on it.

“Vic, give me a vision scan,” Logan said, his voice a deep growl. Almost instantly, his vision was tinted with a slight green hue, as the disembodied voice of the mech’s Virtual Intelligence rang out throughout the cockpit in a posh, dignified accent.

“Right away Sir,”

There was a flash of light as a horizontal beam of infrared light was across the environment. As it did, the outline of his opponent shined with a dull white-green light, giving Logan full view of his adversary. It was a berserker model, boxy in shape and built low to the ground standing only eight meters in height as opposed to the standard ten. Its legs were long, taking up most of its size, ending with a pair of taloned feet that were dug into the upturned dirt. Boost jets flared around its ankles, signifying its ability for an explosive burst when needed. Its arms hung limp to its side, a hand-ax the size of an I-Beam in each gauntleted fist.

“Vic, what’s our probability of success here?” Logan asked, taking in a deep breath, steeling himself for the moments to come. The VI was silent for a moment, a sign that Logan knew meant he was working in all possible variables. A few seconds later, he got his answer.

“Depending on pilot rating,” Vic began, “We have a 67.72 percent chance of survival against any pilot Beta rank or lower. Naturally those odds will decrease for any rating above that. Dropping to 15.23 percent for Gamma, and .15 percent chance for Sigma. Omega class ratings are zero of course.”

“Thanks,” Logan said sarcastically, exhaling with an exhausted sigh.

“Naturally Sir,” Vic said, ignorant to his Pilot’s tone. “May I ask, how do you plan to proceed?”

If it was possible, Logan would have shrugged. Instead, he kept his eyes set on the Berserker, and walked towards it. “I’m gonna do what I always do, Vic. Improvise.”

The Berserker was the first to act. The second Logan left the smoke, it dropped its body low, boost jets priming and igniting in an instant as it leaped through the air, closing the space between them in the blink of an eye, as it brought its two axes down in an arc.

Logan cursed and jumped back, narrowly avoiding the blow as the axes impacted the ground, kicking up dirt and debris, before retaliating with a strike of his own. He swung in a chopping motion, fingers gripping the orange Physilight construct in his hand tight, signaling for Crusader to mimic the motion with its mace as he aimed for one of the Berserkers arm joints. Instead of hearing the dull crunch of a pulverized arm however, Logan heard the sharp clang of metal on metal, felt the aftershock reverberate through his bones and vibrate his teeth.

“What the-” He said, eyes wide. Before he could finish the statement, his opponent countered, pushing off the ground and delivering an iron clad knee strike straight to Logan’s cockpit. Another burst of the mech's boosters multiplied the force from the blow, sending Logan staggering back while the Berserker chased after its prey.

“Shit! He’s fast!” Logan said aloud through gritted teeth as brought his shield up to tank a flurry of swings from his attacker. One strike. Two strikes. Six. Twelve. The barrage seemed to go on forever and Logan could feel his muscles screaming for a reprieve.

“Your right arm is under tremendous stress Sir,” Vic’s voice, as calm and polite as always, rang out through the cockpit, breaking up the muted thuds of ax swings outside. “If it stays in this state of stress much longer, I’m afraid you risk a compound fracture”

“Gee ya think?!” Logan shot back. “I hadn’t noticed!”

He centered his footing, ignoring the pain that shot through his arm as he did so, and leaned forward, pushing his shield into the ax swings, bashing his opponent back and causing him to stagger. Timing his moment to strike in time with his movements he burst forward diagonally, round the Berserker’s side and driving his mace into its hip joint. He was rewarded with the sound of crumpled metal and the feeling of something sturdy giving way.

The mech lurched and jerked awkwardly as the pilot no doubt tried to free himself from the spiked flanges of Logan’s mace. This was the moment Logan was waiting for. He let go of the Physilight rod in his right hand, the construct of orange light dissolving into particles, as Crusader dropped the giant slab shield to the ground. He quickly closed his into a fist, feeling the motion mimicked by his mech, and delivered a devastating haymaker to his opponents head. The sound echoed throughout the battlefield like a clap of thunder, and Berserker went flying through the air, completely lifted off the ground. And still, Logan had more to give.

“I’m not done with you yet!” He growled out, and used the booster jets on Crusaders back to surge forward like a predator finding its next meal. He shot up to the side of his free-falling adversary and brought his mace down hard onto its cockpit, yelling out a battle cry as he forced the Berserker to impact the ground with a powerful slam.

In an instant, everything had stopped. The only sound that reached Logan’s ears was that of his own labored breathing. He looked down, analyzing the damage he had caused, his eyes resting on the head of his mace buried in the cockpit of his enemy. He knew the Pilot was dead, he could see it with his own eyes. Pieces of viscera that looked like they had been squeezed from a tube of red paste oozed out of bent metal seams. He could recall a time, when a sight like this would have made him sick to his stomach. He would have felt a wave of guilt and shame wash over him that wouldn’t come off no matter how many showers he took. He could remember the nightmares that left him shivering in a cold sweat. How he missed those days. To be able to feel… anything. But this was his life, his path. Numbness was both a necessity and a curse. He wouldn’t mourn this faceless pilot, nor did he feel sorry for them. At the end of the day, it was just business.

He stood up straight, yanking his mace free from its resting place in the enemy's cockpit, and looked around. All around him, he saw the destruction that was bought and paid for by people who’d never set foot on this world. Once proud and powerful units and pilots now reduced to crumpled corpses of both metal and meat. He sighed, shaking his head, taking a minute to gather his thoughts.

He couldn’t even recall the name of the planet he was on, nevermind the side he was fighting for. No, the only thing that he remembered clearly, was the pay. Maybe that didn’t justify the things he did today, the lives he took, but they weren’t around to pass judgment. It didn’t matter if they were though, right now, all Logan wanted was a hot shower and a soft bed.

“Is everything alright Sir?” Vic said, interrupting his thoughts almost as if on cue.

Logan could only offer a soft nod, as he flicked a switch on his palm, transferring the controls to the VI.

“Yeah Vic… I’m good. Take us home.”

Whether it was from blood loss or battle fatigue, Logan was asleep inside his mech until Vic had docked it inside Logan’s ship Fenris. His eyes slowly opened to the sound of the locking mechanisms engaging, holding Crusader upright and stationary as a walkway whirred to life, expanding its length until it connected to the mech's waist just under the backplate of the cockpit. He looked around, slowly becoming more lucid as he took in his surroundings. The docking bay was large and brightly lit by fluorescent lamps hanging from the ceiling. Across the way, a large screen bolted to the wall sprang to life, displaying the local time-zone, as well as the topography of the land below, being scanned from the ship’s sensors from low orbit.

Suddenly, his vision distorted, crackling and turning hazy as if looking at a broken datapad, before going completely black. He winced and blinked away the darkness until his eyes adjusted and he found himself staring at a dull metal slab; the sides lined with rivets and dented from years of abuse, the true view from where Logan hung suspended in his cockpit harness. He felt a painful click, before watching the ocular uplink cable retract up into Crusaders headpiece, snaking its way through the environment until wrapped around a large metal spool.

A hiss of pressurized air came directly behind him, and Logan closed his eyes tight, gritting his teeth as the mech’s back plate rose, segmented plates sliding up and nesting inside the ones above them. Then the pain started. A shrill whine filled the air as his uplink spikes unscrewed themselves from his Pilot threads. His body twisted and lurched as the uplink frame forcibly removed its spikes from Logan’s body, giving no reprieve, merely increasing the force it applied whenever a screw was hung or stuck until all fifteen spikes were removed from his arms, legs, and spine.

Logan gasped, his breath coming in short bursts as he sucked down air. His body shook from both shock and pain while he fought to gain his bearings. He hated this part. The uplink and de-link processes were necessary of course, but necessary didn’t mean it had to feel like his skin was on fire every time he entered the cockpit. It never got easier either, he just grew accustomed to the pain.

Logan exhaled slowly, getting his bearings before he reached back and gripped a handle, pushing off of the pegs that held his feet, and slowly turned himself around, before stepping out onto the grated platform, successfully extricating himself from his Crusader. His vision swam and blurred as he stepped into the bright light of the hanger bay. A side effect of an extended deployment. Aurora should have known better though. He must have been gone a few days at least.

“Aurora!” He called out, yelling to be heard over the industrial sounds of repair and maintenance. “Dim the lights already, dammit I can’t see!”

“Sorry!” A distant, sing-song voice replied. Within a few moments the brightness of the bay dropped to manageable levels and Logan was able to blink away the stars that floated in his periphery. As he did, he saw Aurora walking towards him, wrench in hand, a goofy smile plastered on her face.

She was young for an A.R.M.S. mechanic, her face still radiant and full of excitement, with features that seemed to contrast one another. She had bright blue hair, tied back into a ponytail and her eyes were a dull brown, framed behind a set of thick glasses that made her look slightly bug eyed when she wore them, which she rarely did. Her nose was thin and came to a prominent point, while her chubby cheeks, still clinging to some baby fat, accentuated her youthful appearance. All in all, she could have passed for a girl of around nineteen or twenty, instead of her actual age of twenty-five. Her maturity or lack thereof didn’t help her in this department either much to her employers irritation. It seemed to Logan that if she wasn’t busy here, she’d keep herself entertained by making Logan’s life a living hell. Still, she was the best mechanic this side of the sector, and she worked cheap. That went a long way in Logan’s book.

“Good to have ya back boss,” She said, eyeing him up and down before looking past him to where Crusader stood. Logan watched her eyes light up as she no doubt saw the marks of battle that ran all over the mech’s frame. He turned to see what the damage and had to stifle a wince. Dents and slash mark ran the length of the mech, as some minor burns in a few places had turned the off white paint scheme into a charred black.

Logan shook his head and turned back to face her. “Brought you some work it seems. This should keep you busy till we reach the fleet don’t ya think?”

“Hell yeah! You can count on me boss, I’ll make her look good as new!” She said, her thick twangy accent taking over, a by-product of her homeworld of Merrin. She took a step, then stopped herself, a quizzical look taking over.

“What is it?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at her.

She smacked her own head, making a face that said she had just remembered something important. “I almost forgot!” She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a datapad, swiping through with her thumb until she found what she’d been looking for. “Message came for you over the net a day or two ago. Used your Captain’s Code and everything so I figured it must have been important.”

Logan’s eyebrow raised higher as he approached her, and took the datapad from her hands, his eyes reading through the message quickly, growing wider as they did so.

“What’s wrong boss?” Aurora asked, her face tinged with concern and sounding far away. Logan ignored her, having to read through the message again, just to confirm who it was from.

*“Logan,

It’s been a long time. I apologize for my lack of communication. You know how things are, we get busy and things tend to go by the wayside. Still, fifteen years is a long time, and you deserved better. I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry again, that the reason I’m reaching out is that I need your help. It’s about Cameron. Things are changing around Ketris and I fear he’s not ready for the role he’s ascending too. But if anyone can straighten him out, I figure it’d be you. Please write back when you have the chance and I’ll explain more then.

Your Friend,

Augustus Pellyn”

Logan sat there for a long time, reading and rereading the message. Had it really been fifteen years? Time flies when you're having fun, but it must go faster when you’re fighting for your life, he supposed. Still, it was hard to believe that he’d receive any contact from people back home. Why him? Why now?

“Boss?” Aurora’s voice was meek and pensive, cutting across Logan’s thoughts like the sharpest blade. He shook his head to clear it and looked up at her. She was staring at him, worry plastered on her face, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder.

“You alright? What is it?”

Logan forced a smile, his mind running wild with thoughts of a life, long dead. Or so he had thought. Clearly, that wasn’t the case anymore.

“Yeah, I’m good. Just a job offer from some old friends.”

She blinked, some levity returning to her face. “Oh. Well… what do they want you to do?”

“Go home.”

Cameron Pellyn was not someone who embodied the ideal noble presence. The second-born scion to the royal throne of Ketris would rarely be seen rubbing elbows at fancy galas, or showing his martial prowess on the dueling field. Instead, he spent most of his time in the place he was found this morning; a dive bar in the lowlands, passed out, face adhered to a sticky counter top.

“You really should have called me.” Markus Creel, the royal tender of the second scion said, speaking to the bartender. He had a gruff, no nonsense timbre in his voice. Proper enough in his tempo and pronunciation to be among the highborn, yet still possessing the slight accent of the lowland working class. He was tanned and tall, with a muscular frame that tried to hide itself under his expensive suit. Likewise, his dark hair was slicked and combed in a dignified style, his beard, neatly trimmed, trying and failing to cover a scar that ran down the side of his square jaw.

“You know I would have Markus” The bartender said, still wiping down the counter from the night before. “But he gave specific instructions not to call you.”

Markus ground his teeth in frustration, speaking in a snarl “Of course he did.”

He sighed, taking a seat at the bar, holding his head in his hands and ran his fingers through his hair, resisting the urge to tear it out of his head. “This kid is going to be the death of me.”

“Look on the bright side,” John said, handing Marcus a bucket of water, “Least this part is always fun.” A soft smirk formed at the edges of Marcus’s mouth. “You’re absolutely right my friend.”

Without another word, Marcus walked his way up to Cameron’s unconscious form. “Rise and shine Master Pellyn.” He said as the bucket tipped and ice cold water ran down the young man’s back.

Cameron woke with a start, looking around wide eyed, trying to get his bearings. When his eyes found those of Marcus, he relaxed, a smirk forming on his face as he stood, holding his arms out wide.

“Alright, ya got me.”

“Indeed, I do Master Pellyn.” Marcus said, his frustration hidden behind a mask of professionalism.

“You know I gotta say,” Cameron began, “This isn’t the most ideal way to wake up after a night of heavy drinking, but it’s certainly not the worst. Remember Conroy’s Selection Party?”

“Is this the time you set the guest house on fire? Or the time you slept with his sister?” Marcus asked, a weary sigh hanging in his throat.

“That’s a trick question and you know it. That was the same party.”

“How could I possibly forget? You seem lucid enough.” Marcus said, tossing him a rag and a blue tunic lined with silver. “Clean yourself up and join me in the carriage. We have an appointment to keep.”

“Oh? What appointment would that be?” Cameron asked as he stripped off his grime covered shirt and scrubbed himself quickly in the sink behind the bar. John, the barkeep would have been offended, if he hadn’t gone through enough mornings like the one currently happening in front of him. Instead, he shook his head and reached for a worn out pipe, lighting it and filling the hazy room with another thin layer of smoke.

“Your father of course.” Marcus replied, “ This is the week of Lady Miranda’s coronation, which means it’s also the week of your ascension to Seneschal.”

Cameron stopped, his brow furrowing. He opened his mouth to speak before Marcus cut him off.

“I think it would be best for us to discuss this in the carriage Master Pellyn. No sense in dragging John into the goings on of the royal house.”

“Oh, don’t mind me.” John said, looking between the two men in front of him. “I love drama. Especially when it comes to the rich and powerful. Or just rich in Cam’s case.”

“Hey!” Cameron complained, pulling his tunic on. “I’m a prince of the royal family. Show a little respect at least.”

John blinked, then spoke, unperturbed. “Last night I saw you fish a coin out of a patron’s belly button using nothing but your tongue.”

Cameron blinked. “Was she cute at least?”

“I think HE would rather be called handsome. And, no he wasn’t. He was at least fifty and his stomach looked like a shaved bear.”

“Did I at least get the coin?”

“You did not.”

“… Okay fair point.” Cameron responded as he made his way to the door. He stretched in a broad, exaggerated motion, before grabbing one of the bottles left on the table from the night before, and draining it of its contents. In one smooth motion he tossed the bottle in the trash before letting out a satisfied sigh and smiling at his servant.

“Ready when you are.”

Chapter 2

The planet Ketris was one of a tropical paradise. Large islands dotted its surface, not quite large enough to form continents. Instead, these islands would chain into their own distinct city-states, using a gravity rail system for transport from one chain to another. Cameron found himself on one such rail system, a private line for those of the noble houses to give direct transport to the capital of the planet that shared its name. He was looking out the window, watching the islands fly by at a blistering speed as Marcus spoke.

“Ever since the colonies came from the mother planet,” he began. “We have had a noble house. At first it was just one, your family Master Pellyn. But over the generations, we have grown into many, scattered across the planet. Now, we have fifty houses, whose scions pilot the very A.R.M.S units that protect our home from all dangers that would dare touch our soil. Just as the planet needs a ruler, an army needs a Seneschal, a general to stand in the front and hold the mighty shield of Ketris, should duty call for it.”

Cameron looked at him exasperated. “I know the tradition Marcus. I don’t need a history lesson. What I need is an answer as to why dad has his heart set on sending me.”

Marcus shrugged and gave and gave a look. “It’s how it's always been, Master Pellyn. The firstborn reigns, in this case Lady Miranda. The second born is the shield.”

Cameron gave a derisive chuckle. “I have three brothers.” He said. “Surely he can find a more qualified candidate from those guys.”

The Pellyn family was small by noble standards. With five children, one girl and four boys, they were often outnumbered by their distant cousins, who’s numbers could get as high as twenty to a single family. Miranda was the oldest, groomed from the very beginning to take on her father’s mantle. After her, Cameron came a few years down the line, followed by the triplets, Ian, Liam, and Dean. Those three were the more stereotypical prince type, chasing glory and skirts in equal measure. Cameron was just happy to settle for the latter.

“Ian is the muscle head.” Cameron said. “Liam too. He won the tournament last spring. Hell, Dean’s at least down to have a bar fight every once in a while.”

“But none of them are you Master Pellyn.” Marcus said, speaking in a soft and comforting tone.

“For all your frustration and anger at being chosen, I’m sure the young masters are in turn frustrated about not being chosen.”

Cameron considered this a moment before deciding not to speak, instead focusing on the ocean waves as they passed. After a moment, a soft ding echoed its way through the train car. They were arriving at their destination.

The planetary capital was a place of opulent symmetry. Thick alabaster stone slabs formed the walkways, with a thick line of blue crystal running the length of the middle. The capital was man made, an artificial island in a perfect circle, roughly 100 miles in diameter. The buildings were built low, showing off the island's foliage, with large palm trees dotting the landscape in predetermined locations. In the distant center, the royal palace stood proudly, its blue crystal dome reflecting off the sunlight, flanked on either side by two large alabaster turrets. Drop offs and pickups from the rail line were spaced out at even intervals, connecting the rest of the world to the royal gate. Just because they were connected, did not mean there would be free passage. As the city and palace itself were intertwined, one would need to either already live there, or have good reason to come knocking.

Cameron stepped off the rail car, spreading his arms wide as a local peacekeeper checked him. Even royals had to abide by the law of the land, though Cameron doubted anyone would think about doing anything shady, as the Royal Guard would have them splattered on the pavement before such harm could come to fruition. The guards themselves were all pilots, their Squire units standing stalwart throughout the capital and its perimeter. Their metallic shells gleamed in the sun, a beacon of protection for the general populace and a permanent reminder of the brave men and women who had sat in those cockpits from years past. Their hulking masses of steel and hydraulics were draped in cloaks of thick weaved fabric, and painted in tandem with the rest of the place to reflect the royal coloration. Every guard could wield a sword and shield, as such, the suits themselves reflected this. Large slabs of metal, the width of a table hung limply at the sides of the units, sheathed in ornate wrapping. A similar large buckler was bolted onto the opposite arm. Such was the preferred fighting style of the Ketrisites, "The sword and board", as the soldiers called it. A dependable combination of both attack and defense.

“Apologies for the intrusion, Lord Pellyn” The peacekeeper said. Cameron could see the man was nervous. He had no rank or insignia on his lapel, showing how new he was.

“No need for apologies.” Cameron said, straightening his tunic as he locked eyes with the man. “If you wouldn’t apologize to the peasant, then you shouldn’t to the prince.” The man looked slightly off balance, struggling to find his words. Cameron gave him a smile as he walked up the stairs heading deeper into the city.

The citizens of the capital were used to being star-struck. With such a small community, appearances of minor nobility all the way up to the royal scions were a near daily occurrence. Cameron himself had been such a regular customer of the various shops, restaurants, and entertainment venues, so much so, that the local population hardly paid him a second look. So when he heard a hush fall over the crowded masses, followed by a soft whispering, and complete gridlock, he knew it wasn’t because of him. Turning in the direction that everyone was looking towards, a smile crossed his face.

Before him, a beautiful young woman stood, looking around the populace with a soft caring gaze. Her hair was black as night and cut short, barely making it past the length of her baby face. Her eyes, a soft, sky blue sparkled in the light of the day. Her smile, a small yet unmistakable lift, was further enamored by a dimple on her right cheek. She was wearing a flowing dress of an iridescent violet that shimmered in the sunlight as she walked, contrasting nicely to her pale white skin. She spoke softly to the random citizens while flanked on her left, right, and back by three near identical men. Though they shared the same face, there were some variations, the one to her right scanned the crowed with a blank dutiful look. A chinstrap beard was cut neat, the same color as the woman’s hair. The man on the left was shaved bald, mirroring his counterpart in looking out, searching for threats. The man in the back had broken the uniform look, shifting his balance back and forth in impatience, constantly trying and failing to keep a mop of black hair out of his eyes, the bulk of it hidden beneath a watch cap. Cameron's siblings were making an appearance.

He quickly made his way through the crowd. Though not held in the same reverence as the rest of his family, people knew enough not to impede his path. Miranda’s smile grew wider as she saw him, walking to meet him in the middle and clasping him in a hug.

“What’s up Mirry Moo?” Cameron asked, picking up and squeezing his sister in a rather undignified bear hug. He sat her down and laughed as she gave him a look of consternation.

“Really, Cam?” She asked with a false irritation, the smile she struggled to keep hidden flashing on her face. “Can you at least try to be professional in front of everyone?”

“What are you talking about?” Cameron said, feigning mock offense, clutching at imaginary pearls. “I am the pinnacle of professionalism.”

She cocked an eyebrow and rolled her eyes. “Let’s look at father shall we? The great Augustus Pellyn, now crowning his successor, Lady Mirry Moo Pellyn. Doesn’t exactly have the same regal ring does it?”

Cameron’s smile sank a bit at the mention of his father. “I need to have a word with him. Twenty-two years of being the exact opposite of what a Seneschal embodies should have given the hint that this isn’t me.”

As he was complaining, his brothers approached, the crowds slowly dispersing as the scene of discussion was turning to topics that weren't their business.

“Is it rude to agree with you?” The one with the chinstrap asked. “I mean no offense brother, but… well maybe a little offense.”

“Ian,” Miranda admonished, slapping his shoulder.

“What?!” He exclaimed. “I’m agreeing with him.”

“I think agreeing with him, and being a dick about it aren’t the same thing baby brother.” Liam, the bald one said looking over at his twin. Ian rolled his eyes at the baby brother comment. “We’re three seconds apart.” He said, giving his brother a glare, who gave a smirk in return. “And don’t you forget it.”

Cameron smiled at the sight of his siblings dropping pretenses and behaving like the bickering kids they were. “No, Ian you’re absolutely right. I’d pass the duty off to one of you in a heartbeat if I could. Even Dean.” he said, nodding to the boy in the back.

Dean shook his head on hearing his name. “Don’t look at me man, that’s for these two up here. I’d rather follow in your footsteps than theirs. Seems a lot more fun.”

Miranda gave the youngest the same look of frustration she gave Ian. “You will most certainly not!” She said in exasperation. “Cam gets away with it cause he was always like this, I’ll send you off to the guard before I let you be a womanizing drunk.”

“Hey now,” Cameron said with a smile. “Brilliant, hilarious, and exceedingly suave womanizing drunk. Get it right. Besides, someone here needs to be the life of the party. A position I perform with distinction.”

She rolled her eyes and looked at him; her smile falling a bit. “You know what he’ll say Cam. It’s the same answer he’s always given.”

“Your duty outweighs your preference.” The five said in unison.

“If I could change things I would.” She continued, “But I’m just as powerless as you. My word holds no weight until I’m crowned. But I’d urge against it. The ambassadors are here and Father’s in an even fouler mood than usual.”

Cameron’s shoulders slumped a bit as he hung his head, standing in dejected silence. Miranda placed a hand on his shoulder, trying to comfort him.

“I’m sorry baby brother.” She said softly. “I hate seeing you so down. You are the spot of levity in a world of protocol and tradition. However,” She raised his head with her hand and smiled at him. “Though I can’t promise that I can save you from your task. I can promise that together, we can make this world the pinnacle of the Pirou system. What do you say?”

Cameron smiled softly and nodded. “Whatever you say sis.”

She smiled again and flicked his forehead with her finger before stepping back. “Now,” she began. “Father’s waiting for you. As well as the dignitaries. I think it best not to keep him waiting.”

Cameron’s smile dropped a little before she continued. “Don’t give me that look. I know you hate the political part of the job but it’s not all bad. I think you may even get along well with one of them.” She gave him a wink and his eyebrow cocked as the triplets chuckled.

“What do you mean?” He said, narrowing his eyes at his siblings.

She shrugged, giving a smirk. “Ask me no questions and I shall tell you no lies. Marcus, would you be so kind as to escort my dear brother home for his appointment?” She turned to Marcus, who had been silent through the whole exchange, standing rigid like a soldier with his arms behind his back. Upon hearing the order, he gave a low bow and spoke in reverence.

“It would be an honor Lady Miranda, my deepest apologies for our tardiness already.”

She smiled and held up her hand. “No need for apologies Marcus, I’m sure whatever delay was the result of my brother’s reluctance. That will be our father’s assumption as well, so make haste, but please do the introductions with quality.”

“Of course my lady. I live to serve.” He said giving another short bow, Cameron walking past and giving his aid a quick slap on the back.

“Come on, kiss ass. Let’s get this over with.”

Cameron’s footsteps echoed down the halls as he and Marcus made their way to the throne room. For reasons Cameron never understood, the servant was always eerily silent in his footfalls and movement. It was as if his need to blend into the surroundings, permeated through his very physical being.

“Have you prepared yourself for meeting the delegation Master Pellyn?” Marcus asked, breaking Cameron from his thoughts.

“Not in the traditional sense, no.” Cameron said with a sheepish look on his face. “I figured I’d just wing it to be honest.”

Marcus struggled to hold down a frustrated sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “One does not wing diplomacy Master Pellyn.”

“Says who?” Cameron said, turning to look at his servant with a smarmy grin.

“Says anyone who has ever held the position.”

“Well, as a future general, shouldn’t I work on my improvisation and problem solving skills?” He cocked an eyebrow and let out a chuckle.

This time Marcus couldn’t contain it, giving a sigh that seemed to deflate his entire being. “As much as I applaud your use of logical manipulation, I must counsel professionalism in this instance. If you allow your usual sensibilities to get in the way, this could hinder Lady Miranda’s reign for decades to come.”

He stopped and stared at Cameron as they reached the throne room door, a large soapstone slab, supported by a trim of sapphires inlaid around the edges. “Please Master Pellyn, know that if any situation calls for tact and patience, it is this.”

Cameron looked back into Marcus’s eyes, giving a rare genuine smile. “I understand your concern, and it’s nice to know that you’re so worried about Miranda that you would lecture me as seriously as this.” He clapped a hand on the man’s shoulder and gave a warm laugh. “Don’t worry. For all the jokes and sarcasm, I’m aware of what's at stake here. It’ll all work out. I promise.”

Marcus was speechless for a minute looking a bit sheepish as he struggled to craft a response before his mouth opened.

“Well… that’s great to hear Master Pellyn. I appreciate your candor and willingness to listen. It’s refreshing to know that you're aware of the weight you hold. I won’t hold you any longer.”

Cameron smiled, walking to the front of the door, before turning back to the man and giving a nod. The doors flung open, an echo quieting and conversation that was being held behind it. Cameron took a deep, slow breath, then a step forward, crossing the threshold.

“Why good morning father!” Cameron shouted, his voice echoing throughout the chamber, ensuring all eyes were on the pair “And assorted boot-lickers! How’s tricks?”

Marcus’s face fell, pinching the bridge of his nose with a weary sigh, as he followed behind his charge, closing the door quietly behind him.

On first inspection of the throne room, it seemed rather out of place, compared to the spanning opulence of the palace itself. There were no inlays of gold or ornate tapestries. In fact, the “Throne” room was lacking in the said piece of furniture that derived its name. Instead, it looked more like a war room, bare-bones and with a distinct lack of frivolity, save for a balcony that ran the length of the room on one side, looking out against the ocean. King Augustus Pellyn stood at the end of a large conference table as he held court. The table was a dark stained mahogany, imported from the mother world. There were small screens set into the wood, spaced out to give each person sitting a personal data repository point. Two small banners, bearing the Pellyn family seal hung limp in the air as Cameron entered. His smile dropped to a smirk as he looked at the strangers seated around the table. Two men in robes sat on one side, one balding and pudgy, the other wiry and weasel like, yet both wearing the same scowl of someone who had just stepped in something that most certainly wasn’t chocolate. The woman sitting opposite them was the complete opposite, a young, pretty face with a pair of green eyes stared at him in amusement, a smile peeking its way across her lips. Her shoulder length red hair hung down in ringlets, with a business suit, that didn’t help to hide her curvy figure. Suddenly Cameron was aware of what Miranda had meant in the square. He was going to get along with her just fine.

“You’re late.” A deep, commanding voice said, breaking Cameron from his reflection and fantasy. His eyes turned as he looked at his father. He easily stood a head taller than Cameron, built more like a fridge than a person. He was also bald like the pudgy man, but with his lean, angular face accented with a long, braided beard, and a set of robes that barely contained his massive frame, that was where the comparison stopped.

Cameron inhaled sharply, bracing himself for the tirade that was coming. “I was… indisposed of. I got lost.”

“In a bedroom or a bottle?” Augustus retorted, still not breaking eye contact or showing any sign of emotion.

“Would you be more or less angry if it was both? I need to know if I gotta lie or not.”

This caused another set of reactions from the strangers, with the men letting out a disgusted gasp at the violation of etiquette, and the woman letting out a small giggle that drew a smile to Cameron’s lips.

The King closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose, motioning for his son to take a seat at the opposite end of the table. “Sit and be silent.” He said with a growl as he turned his gaze to Marcus, who approached and kneeled without a word. “Where did you find him, Marcus?” he asked, his tone softer, and respectful.

“In the Lowlands my lord.” Marcus responded, not looking up, “At a tavern operated by an old comrade of mine. He was there all night as per his report, I don’t believe he caused any trouble.”

“That’s a first.” Augustus scoffed. “Very well, please prepare the guest quarters, when you’re done, head to the private port. We have one last visitor yet to arrive. I’d like you to greet him personally and bring him here.”

Marcus nodded and left swiftly and quietly after a curt “My Lord.”. As the door closed, Augustus turned and looked at his son, who was gazing back in defiant silence. After a moment he clapped his hands together, diffusing the awkwardness that now permeated throughout the room.

“Well. I say we get this show on the road. I believe some introductions are in order.”

As the King spoke the three strangers rose to their feet, Cameron following a moment later.

“You all know me, though I doubt my son has enamored himself with you yet, judging by the reactions.” His head nodded in Cameron’s direction as he raised a hand to make a grand twirling gesture. “Cameron Pellyn, prospect consort and Seneschal to the royal line of Ketris and her people, 27th of his mantle.”

Cameron, though still holding his father’s gaze in a flash of spoiled rage, understood that certain customs must be observed as he stood and gave a low bow, the others responding with a silent nod. As he sat, the pudgy, bald man spoke.

“Lord Lazarus Lendrick, ambassador and high scholar of Amreith, I speak for Prince Seprith Caustos, shall the stars hear and bless his name.”

The weasel man spoke next, a thick nasally voice that was grating and unpleasant as he nearly pushed his head to the floor in a grand, overexaggerated bow. "Count Wervil Darwin, high council to Prince Timas Lo'Dain, and Grand Marshall to the planet Ma'Kir, a pleasure my lord."

Cameron had to fight the urge to roll his eyes at the man's bombastic introduction. Kiss asses were common on the court, but this guy took pompous to a whole new level. Luckily, he had better things to set his eyes on, as the woman stood and nodded her head, speaking in the strange off-system accent unique to earthlings.

"Sybil Moore, ambassador of President Cortez and agent of the Department of Planetary Relations." When she spoke even the king listened intently. Sure the Pellyn family ruled their world, and these men were in charge of much of their own home planets, but a representative of the mother-world was due all the respect one could muster.

As the woman sat, the silence was broken when one of the other dignitaries, the one named Lendrick, spoke. "I didn't think that the mother world sent dignitaries for this sort of matter. Sector celebrations are one thing, but I cannot recall a time I saw someone at your station for a simple coronation, my lady."

Sybil smiled and gave a shrug. "It's a new initiative the President is tackling, outreach to the frontier systems has been... lackluster in the past few hundred years. My ship was in the area, and when word of Lady Miranda's appointment reached my ears, I stopped in to make an appearance. Also, Lord Lendrick, it's Ms. Moore. We rid ourselves of nobility centuries ago. Not to say it doesn't work here, but it certainly didn't for us. She gave him a smile that Cameron could tell was fake, but Lendrick only nodded thoughtfully and began diving into discussion about the dynamics of Royal and Non-Royal planetary relations when the doors opened behind them and everyone turned to look.

Marcus was back, though he was not alone. Next to him, striding in a confident silence, stood the most imposing man that Cameron had ever seen. He was tall, easily surpassing Cameron in his six foot three height, and twice as wide. His shoulders nearly took up half of the doorway where he stood. His head was shaved and his black goatee, flecked with wisps of grey, stood out prominently against his dark skin tone. Scars crisscrossed their way across his arms, and face, settling on one long cut underneath one of his steel colored eyes. His arms were slabs and his fists were boulders, sitting across a barrel chest, allowing the sunlight to reflect off of the iron divots that were set into his skin. This man was a pilot, and a fully integrated one at that.

He let out a long growl of a sigh as he walked. The man was dressed for combat with a black military trousers, cinched tight with a grey webbed belt. A grey compression shirt tugged at the man's massive frame. Cameron was so busy sizing the man up, that he was surprised when he looked up and saw that he was staring daggers at him. He crossed the hall in a few long strides and before Cameron knew it; he was standing over him, a titan looking down upon an insect.

"U-Um... Dad?!" Cameron shouted back, a twinge of fear breaking in his usual calm and confident voice.

The only thing more surprising than this mystery mountain, was the laughter coming from Lord Pellyn's throat. A deep hearty chuckle as if he was the only one in on the joke.

"Glad you could make it Logan, I suppose now that everyone's here we can finally begin."

After what seemed like an eternity, the man known as Logan broke eye contact from Cameron, turning to his father, his face taking on a more relaxed and friendly expression.

“Lord Pellyn, been a while. How have you been?” The man’s voice was grizzled and deep. Like war drums echoing across a field before a battle, he bled confidence and bravery with every syllable. He crossed the room, ignoring the dignitaries and approached the now standing King. They clasped wrists in a loud clap before Augustus pulled him into a hug. “I have missed you my friend.” He said. It’s been far too long since you were last planet-side.”

“My apologies, Lord Pellyn. Free-space keeps me busy. Luckily Markus had a contact in The Fleet that got a message to me. I’ll be sure to leave my captains code with you when I leave this time. Should be easier to communicate when I get the calls directly instead of secondhand.”

“I told you. Call me Augustus. You’ve earned it. And are you sure I can’t convince you to stick around? I’m sure we can find some use of your services.”

The man smiled and shook his head. “I doubt you could afford me, Augustus. Consider this service pro-bono, a gift to the new Seneschal. Speaking of..” He turned, his cold steel eyes meeting Cameron’s. The man examined him, sizing him up in his mind, speaking to Augustus while maintaining eye contact with Cameron. “Color me unimpressed.”

“I could say the same.” Cameron retorted, finally finding his voice. “Just who the hell are you, anyway?”

The man ignored Camerons question, his eyes looking past the boy, slowly rising to look at the wall behind him. Cameron turned to see what he was gazing at only to find an old mural, faded into the cracks of the walls. It depicted a battlefield. Bodies of men and mech strewn across the landscape battered, bruised, and broken. Standing in the center was a lone man, faceless, holding a golden sword high to the heavens. Behind him, stood his A.R.M.S. unit, towering above all others. Its helm matched the height of the mountains in the background as it too held a golden blade aloft; The first Seneschal of Ketris.

“Since the time of the second breaking,” Logan began, walking towards the mural and running his fingertips across the cracked stone.

“A Seneschal has stood for Ketris. A bulwark to protect the planet from all threats both domestic,” His eyes cut to two male ambassadors, “and off-world.”

Darwin was the first to speak, sputtering in the way politicians do when put into an awkward conversation.

“M-My Lord,” he began as he stood, face slightly flushed. “I can assure you that his majesty, Prince Lo’Dain has nothing but the most noble intentions in his solidarity with Ketris and queen Miranda.”

“Indeed,” Lendrick chimed in, jowls flapping as he spoke. “Though there have been some… tensions in our history, such is politics. It is in everyone’s best interest that we move past such petty grievances of our forebears and rule the system together, as originally ordained by the Mother Planet.”

Logan’s lips formed into a knowing smile as he walked back towards the table, standing next to Cameron with his arms clasped behind him.

“My apologies, gentlemen. I’m no dignitary, only a mere soldier. Old habits die hard as do old biases. It’s not my place to comment on the policies and alliances of a planet I’m no longer a citizen of. Besides…” He reached and clamped a hand on Cameron’s shoulder, causing the young scion to wince slightly. “I’m not here for you. I’m here for him.”

“This is Logan Rake.” Augustus Pellyn’s voice rang out, drawing the attention from everyone in the room. He was still standing, sweeping his arm in a grand gesture towards the man’s direction. “He was once the Captain of the Guard for the forces here in the capital. The man has protected the Pellyn family and the nation of Ketris until about ten years ago when he requested to leave planet side to go find his fortune in free-space. I requested his presence here to make sure my son is trained as well as he possibly can, to take on the role of Seneschal.

“Lucky me,” Cameron muttered sarcastically under his breath. He reached up to pry the man’s fingers off of him, but it was useless. The hand may as well have been welded on to him the way it refused to budge from any of his attempts to extricate himself.

“Lucky you indeed.” Logan replied, finally releasing his grip, looking down at him. “Now get up.”

“What for?”

Logan didn’t answer. He simply gave a bow to the table, before turning and walking to the outside veranda with a confident stride.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” Cameron, exclaimed as he stood up, taking a few steps to follow Logan before stopping out of curious frustration. “Where are we going?”

Logan stopped, his head tilted almost imperceptibly to the side as he called to him. “Outside… for an assessment.”

A few moments later, Cameron stood inside the red clay ring of the royal dueling ground. On one arm, a heavy wooden buckler was lashed tightly to his wrists. An iron sword hung limp in his left hand. He felt his fingers flexing and relaxing nervously as he looked out to where Logan stood, about five meters opposite him.

“Well, you got the look down.” Logan said as he twirled a mace effortlessly in his right hand while stamping a heavy tower shield into the dirt with his left.

“Let’s see if you know how to use 'em.”

It hadn’t taken much convincing on Logan’s part for Augustus to agree to an impromptu exhibition. He and the other dignitaries stood off to the side watching, waiting, and judging Cameron from the very moment he took the field.

“Ya know, this doesn’t exactly seem fair.” Cameron said, beginning the slow dance of circling logan. He scanned the man for points of weakness, or openings to attack as he continued to complain.

“A veteran merc facing off against some snot-nosed prince who’s barely won a tournament. I’m a little outclassed here, wouldn’t you say?”

“Since when has war ever been fair?” Logan retorted, turning his shield in time with Cameron’s movements. His body was tense and tight like a coiled spring, ready to explode forth at any moment, yet his face showed the same calm, dispassionate demeanor as he had when first walking into the throne room.

“Fair,” Cameron said. “But when has war ever only comprised two fighters?”

Logan chuckled softly as he spoke, “Kid… When it comes to killing,” he lowered his center of gravity, the spring coiling tighter. “The only war that matters is the one you survive.”

With that, he launched himself forward, pushing off with his back foot hard enough to crack the dirt. He was on Cameron in a heartbeat, bringing his mace down in three concussive blows that the boy barely had time to block with his shield.

“Ack! What the hell man?!” Cameron cried out, his bones tingling painfully, suffering from the aftershocks of Logan’s opening barrage.

“This is an exhibition you psycho not a deathmatch!” He lowered his shoulder and batted away Logan’s next swing. Seeing his opening, Cameron pushed his shield into Logan’s stomach, using his bodyweight to push him back. The man didn’t move an inch. Instead, Logan countered by taking his front leg and kicked Cameron below the knee, causing him to stagger forward. He then mashed the butt of his mace into the prince’s stomach while growling indignantly.

“War isn’t an exhibition kid! Now shut up and fight or die like a dog!” He kicked Cameron’s knee again, this time at the joint, making it buckle and sending him toppling forward. Cameron, for his part, shoulder rolled into the fall, causing Logan’s follow up swing to miss, making the studs of the mace kick up dust as they buried themselves into the dirt. He capitalized on his opponent’s loss of momentum, going on the offensive. He stepped into Logan’s guard, stabbing low in between the sliver of space that separated the man’s body from the large tower shield.

“Good,” Logan said under his breath as he back stepped the attempt, releasing his grasp on the shield. He smiled, remembering the last time he had fallen for that trick, his eyes cutting to the boy’s servant before snapping back to stare Cameron in the eyes. He shot his hand out, trapping Cameron’s wrist in a vice-like grip.

“Glad Markus could make you somewhat competent, but there’s still an important lesson you need to learn.” He said with a grin, much to Cameron’s frustration.

“And what’s that you freak?” The boy snapped back in response, trying his damndest to free himself.

Logan’s grin widened. “How to improvise.”

With that, he yanked hard on Cameron’s wrist with all of his might, causing the boys head to smash into the hard of his tower shield. Cameron’s last thoughts were filled with frustration and anger as everything went black.

Cameron had only been out for a few minutes before a firm palm met his cheek, sending a jolt of fresh pain to wake him up with a start.

“Gah! Fucking stop it!” He yelled, as he sat up, clutching his cheek while looking up at a smirking Logan.

“Well, good morning your highness. Did you enjoy your little nap?”

“No, I did not ENJOY MY LITTLE NAP!” Cameron shouted as he got to his feet. His fist were balled in fury, his pale face turning red with unsuppressed anger. The sight didn’t seem to bother Logan one bit. He simply looked at the prince, raising an eyebrow as his smirk widened.

“Well, someone’s cranky.”

Cameron growled in frustration, running his fingers through his mop of black hair, his ice-blue eyes bulging in a mixture of disbelief and fury.

“You think it’s okay to just go around knocking out random people?!” He asked, exasperated.

“I didn’t knock out a random person,” Logan retorted, nonplussed.

“OH! You’re right! How silly of me. Even more so, why?! I’m a scion of Ketris damn it!”

“Then how about you start acting like one?” Logan said, all humor leaving his tone, staring Cameron down with hard and unforgiving eyes. He jammed a finger into his chest hard enough to cause the boy to stagger slightly.

“You’re so quick to play the noble card when you feel wronged, yet according to Marcus and your father, you could give a shit less when it comes to the duties of your station. Now, I don’t know why you’re so dismissive about helping to lead a planet that is your birthright, and I don’t care. What I do care about is doing the job I’ve been paid to do; Prepare you as best I can to take the mantle of seneschal, whether you like it or not.”

Cameron stood there in silence, his anger slowly fading away, simmering to a low boil of frustration and shame. He chewed at his lip, looking anywhere but at Logan.

“You don’t know me.” He said, finally speaking a soft whisper. Logan’s face didn’t change, though he acknowledged the boy’s words with a curt nod.

“You’re right. I don’t. But that doesn’t matter. I don’t care who you are, Cameron. I don’t care about your station, or about the people watching us off to the sidelines right now. All I care about is the task I’m paid to do. Anything else is just an extra variable. And I hate variables.”

Logan’s words cut through the air with a detached coldness that caused Cameron’s mind to finally settle. His anger was gone completely. He didn’t see a point in it anymore. He looked up meeting Logan’s eyes as they both stared in an awkward silence for a moment before the sound of a throat being cleared broke both men from their ocular standoff.

“Master Pellyn, Master Rake,” Marcus spoke up, causing the pair to turn and look at him. He was standing alone, his arms behind his back respectfully. Augustus Pellyn and the dignitaries were slowly making their way back inside, silently discussing something amongst themselves that Cameron couldn’t quite make out. That didn’t stop him from noticing the looks that were thrown his way from Lendrick and Darwin. They almost seemed… happy? It was hard to tell the intent of their smirks and nods in the dimming dusk of the evening.

“Perhaps it is time that we call an end to this exhibition. It’s almost time for dinner to be served after all. Will you be eating with us tonight Master Rake?”

“Of course. I’m starving. Teaching always builds an appetite after all.” He said, walking off the field to join Marcus who turned to meet Cameron’s eyes.

“Master Pellyn what about-”

“Not. Hungry.” He said. With a sigh, he walked off the field, passing the two men as he jogged up the steps leading up to the door that took him inside the palace.

Marcus sighed as he watched the door slam, echoing in the silence of the early evening.

“My friend… I believe you have made quite the impression on young Cameron.”

Logan smiled softly, eyes still locked on the door. “Oh, I haven’t even started yet.”

Two sets of footsteps echoed off the thick alabaster walls, muffling the conversation between Marcus and Logan.

“It’s good to see you Logan,” Marcus began, trying to keep his voice low. “But I must say… you’ve definitely made an impression on the boy.”

“Is that not what the job entailed?” Logan asked, making no point to hide the booming deep timbre of his words.

“This is fair, but there’s a fine line between making an impression, and driving a further wedge between Cameron and the role they need him to play.”

“Don’t give me that shit,” Logan said with a growl, coming to a stop as he turned and looked at his friend. “You and I both know what forcing something like this can do to a kid. He’ll fight it tooth and nail or give up and half ass it. Both of which aren’t exactly ideal for the Ketris’ security posture.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, looking back at Logan sympathetically. “Sounds like you still care about our little backwater Logan. Why is that?”

“Why wouldn’t I care Marcus? This is my home. I was born here, and even if I become just another number on some inner-system world, my origin can’t be taken away from me.”

“But why him, why now? Why are you really back Logan? I know I’ve personally tried to reach out multiple times over the decade. No word at all. No call, letter, visit, nothing. Hell, if I hadn’t been keeping an eye on your pilot status, I would have assumed you were dead.”

Logan took a moment to gather his thoughts before responding, chewing on his bottom lip. “Maybe it was time for a homecoming Marcus.”

“Indeed, and now that you’re here?”

“I’d say I got my work cut out for me.” Logan said, a smile flashing on his face.

“Ah well, in all truth, he reminds me of a certain someone.” Marcus returned the smile with one his own, a teasing glint in his eye. “If I recall correctly, you weren’t exactly keen to follow orders either growing up.”

“There’s a big difference between who I was at his age and who he is now.”

“Oh? and just what difference would that be?”

“You only had to beat me once.” Logan said, turning away and walking slowly towards the sounds of a bustling dining room.

Cameron winced in pain, the second the ice pack made contact with the side of his head.

“Ah! Watch it Miranda!” He snapped.

“Oh stop being such a baby.” She replied in a scolding tone, pressing the pack further onto his bruised temple. “It’s not my fault you went and got yourself smashed up.”

“I feel like it is. He’s only doing this because of my so-called ‘duties to the kingdom’.” He said, making air quotations, while straightening his position in the chair, begrudgingly allowing his sister to fuss over him.

“Well did you ever think about sucking it up and, I don’t know… actually performing those duties?”

“Oh we’re doing this now are we? I’m injured, you know!”

“You’re going to be more injured if you don’t stop acting like a child.”

“Oh you are in RARE form today sis. Dad would be proud.”

“Well at least he’d be proud of one of us.”

The pair hadn’t stopped bickering since the moment Miranda eyes fell on Cameron’s beaten and bloody form. After an initial shock and worry for his health, once she could tell there was no permanent damage done, she’d laid into him with all manner of fuss and lecture. This was one of the rare moments that she had dropped her regal airs and got down to her brother’s level. The pair flung insults and argued back and forth from the entrance of the courtyard, all the way to Cameron’s room, witnesses be damned.

“What are you even doing here?” Cameron asked, voice laced with equal parts frustration and exhaustion. “Don’t you have a bunch of dignitaries to impress?”

“Yes Cameron I do.” She replied, her tone matching her brother’s as she let out an exasperated sigh while cleaning the cuts on his arms and legs.

“And instead of doing that, I'm here tending to you. Funny how that works isn’t it? The whole planet comes to a stop while I assist you with your latest crisis.”

“I didn’t ask you to come here.” He grumbled, though deep down he knew he wouldn’t have turned down her help.

“And I didn’t ask if I could come. Now, keep pressure on that pack and open your eyes.” She said, taking Cameron’s hand and planting on the side of his head with more force than was probably necessary. Afterwards, she stood, walking across the room full of opulent furnishings and empty wine bottles to throw open the doors to Cameron’s walk-in closet.

“What are you doing?” He asked, confused as she tossed several colorful garments out onto a nearby ottoman.

“Helping you prepare of course.” She said, paying him no mind as she laid out the accessories for several outfits. “For tomorrow.”

“Ah yes tomorrow… what’s tomorrow again?”

She stopped what she was doing, looking at him in astonishment.

“I swear, it’s like you hate me. The gala Cameron. We’ve been over this. It’s the coronation gala. Before I take the throne, all the nobles of Ketris will come to swear fealty to their new monarch. What, did you think it was just a simple ‘Here you go, the nobles aren’t house-trained, lock up when you go on vacation?’”

Cameron's features turned sheepish, looking anywhere but at Miranda. “No…” He muttered, embarrassed.

“I just forgot that was tomorrow was all.”

“Well, luckily you have me to help remind you. Now, what do you think about the red one?”

Logan fought hard not to sigh as he was led to his quarters. A servant, a young blonde-haired woman in her early twenties had jumped at the chance to walk him back. Her youthful and bubbly voice grated on his nerves as in the five minutes since they had departed the dining room, she had not shut up.

“My uncle served you know? In the guard I mean. By the stars he went on and on about you. Youngest ever captain of the guard, fought like a hungry wolf in battle, an amazing pilot and man he said.” She was speaking about a mile a minute, practically bouncing down the hall with every step.

“Hmm. Give him my regards,” Logan grumbled with a nod, feeling a headache forming towards the back of his skull. It had been a week since he last uplinked, and withdrawals were setting in. It was always the same. First there were the mood swings, then the migraines. He hoped he could get back inside his crusader before the nausea and vertigo took hold. If that happened, he was sure this girl would have vastly different opinions of the mighty Logan Rake.

“Well, here we are, Master Rake,” The girl said, stopping at a heavy oak door. She opened it and Logan was silently thankful that the lights were off.

“Oh dear, let me get some light-”

“No!..” He said, cutting her off a bit too animatedly, causing the girl to look at him, her face flashing with concern. He felt his ears burning hot from embarrassment. Thinking quickly, he cleared his throat, attempting to smooth things over.

“I mean… It's okay. I can figure it out from here.” He said, forcing a smile that she seemed to take a face value, returning the smile and giving a nod. Logan passed the girl walking into the dark room. He reached and was getting ready to close the door when she continued to speak.

“Is there anything you need?” She asked, batting her lashes while looking at him doe eyed. “Anything else I can do for you?”

The invitation was appreciated, but right now, it was all that Logan could do to keep his hands from trembling as the ache started to encompass the rest of his brain. He didn’t have the time nor the patience to let her down gently, barely getting out a growled “No,” before slamming the door in her face.

Finally alone, Logan’s facade melted away. He felt his mind swim and spin with fog, causing him to grip the wall, holding on for dear life. He slowly made his way down the hallway, where it opened up into a grand bedroom, full of tapestries and antiques that were probably more expensive than his crusader unit. He could feel his heart hammering in his chest, each beat pounding against his eardrums. He couldn’t wait much longer. He needed a spike.

He took two steps before the vertigo became too much and dropped to his knees, crawling like a toddler, while his brain did its damndest to crawl out of his skull. He gritted his teeth to keep from screaming as his stomach rolled. His eyes scanned the room in the darkness, searching for his satchel. Eventually he spied it on a nearby lounge chair and he scrambled as fast as he dared over to it. With doubled vision and shaking hands, he ripped open the bag, dumping the contents until he found what he was looking for; a sharp three-inch metal spike with a handle at the end. He breathed a sigh of relief as he took it in his hand, while lowering his head, resting it on the cool stone floor.

Then he took a breath, and reached back, stabbing the spike deep into his cerebral uplink point. He gasped, feeling the pressure burst at the bottom of his skull, feeling the binary nectar flood his system, as a wave of euphoria washed over him. Just like that, his symptoms were gone. His head felt clear and focused, his stomach settling, and he could once again feel the stability of his hands returning.

Letting out a sigh of relief, he sat up, removing the spike and tossing it in a nearby waste bin. He was down to one more spike. One more hit before he needed to return to the crusader's chassis. Something had to give. His symptoms were worsening over time and not even Vic could help him find a solution that would keep the withdrawals at bay. Such was the coin flip of being threaded. The process had made him a terror on the battlefield, but what cost?

He made a decision then. As much as he enjoyed beating on that whiny punk of a prince, he would be useless if he continued on without uplinking. Reaching into his back pocket he pulled out a black tablet. He turned it on, the screen coming alive with the gentle writing of E-Ink. Then he went to work, marking in coordinates to the expansive royal gardens, selecting a time, and pressing the schedule drop button, setting his plan in motion, before tossing the table to the floor next to his bag.

“If only they knew..” he muttered to himself, crawling onto the bed as he pulled a silver box from one of his cargo pockets and opened it, revealing a line of clove style cigars. He pulled one from its resting place, placing it between his lips before lighting it and taking a long drag, savoring the way the smoke filled his lungs as he inhaled.

“If only they knew how weak I really am…” He blew out a plume of smoke as he stood, walking towards the window. Looking out through the thin linen curtains, he gazed up into the night sky counting the stars, wondering just how many of them he had fought on, how many more he would visit, and which one would be the place where he would fall.

The sun had barely crested high enough to shine through Cameron’s window when he was awoken in a start. He was snoozing happily, snuggled up under a mass of pillows, dreaming about a night of alcohol and poor decisions with someone who matched his loosely held morals. Suddenly, he felt the sensation of falling, opening his eyes to see he was falling, sliding quickly down a mattress that had suddenly gone vertical. The usual grogginess was non-existent as he smacked into the floor.

He groaned, clutching his head, listening to the heavy footfalls of boots on the stone floor. He already knew who it was before their gruff voice filled his ears.

“Rise and shine kid. We got some work to do.” Logan’s gruff words greeted him, grating on his nerves like a knife on glass.

“And a good morning to you too.” Cameron said, feeling his eye twitch in annoyance as he got to his feet. He looked out the window, watching as the gray sky was slowly colored in with the pinks and oranges of the rising dawn. He sighed as he pulled his gaze from the window to look at Logan. The man was already in training attire, wearing an ensemble of a tight black tank top and a pair of small black shorts, barely coming halfway down his thighs, his iron divots shining on full display. This gave Cameron pause, causing his eyebrows to raise in a questioning look.

“Any particular reason you’re dressed like that? Or did you just feel like showing off your assets?” He asked, flashing a smirk while motioning to Logan’s bare legs.

“You must really enjoy pain, Pellyn.” Logan replied, deadpanned in delivery.

Cameron shrugged, stretching his arms behind his back and cracking his neck, audible pops filling the silence. “Eh, it depends. May as well win something today. Even if it’s just a smartass competition. What are we actually doing anyways? And why are you waking me up and not Markus or one of the other servants?”

Now it was Logan’s turn to smirk, an action that caused Cameron’s face to flash with concern.

“As to the latter question. I didn’t feel like bothering Markus or someone else with going through the motions of gently rousing you. I had a surefire way of waking you up, and as you can see, it worked like a charm.”

Cameron pursed his lips, rolling his eyes, “Yeah I’m pretty sure anyone who was literally tossed out of bed wouldn’t need to concern themselves with coffee. Now what about the former? What are we doing?”

Logan didn’t answer right away. It was his turn to smirk now, flashing a grin of pearly white teeth, before turning and making his way towards the exit.

“Just a little stroll through the gardens.”

A few minutes later, Cameron was dressed in a pair of royal blue training fatigues, walking in step with Logan as the pair exited out of the back of the palace, making their way into the royal gardens, following a trail that lead to an old training field in the back of the palace grounds. A wide dirt trail bisected a field of carefully cut blue grass spanning a hundred meters in width and nearly a kilometer in length. A row of trees lined the perimeter on either side as topiary sculptures lined the inner edges. It was a place of natural beauty and peace, which explained why Cameron rarely found himself out here.

“So, what’s your deal man?” He asked, finally breaking the silence as he looked at Logan.

“What do you mean?” Logan answered after a moment, not meeting Cameron’s gaze.

“I mean, who are you? I don’t remember you at all. Yet, ever since you got here, it seems that people practically worship the ground you walk on.”

Logan shrugged, giving his best effort to rack his brain for his past accomplishments. “I don’t know honestly. I was really good at my job I guess. I made captain at a young age. Put down some insurrections for your father. Things like that. I wasn’t really searching for glory or anything. But I’m not going to complain about how it turned out.”

“So what happened? Sounds like you were living the high life. Or as close to one as a non noble can get. Why give all that up?”

Logan took a while to respond. He took in his surroundings. The sight of blue flowers in full bloom on the manicured bushes. The smell of sweet honeysuckle, mixing with the salty tang of the ocean, still cold and crisp in the now rising dawn. The soulful birdsong, alerting them that a new day was on the horizon. There were many times he’d ask himself that same question. Most of the time, he’d lie, citing the money, the respect, the prestige of being a pilot of the fleet. His eyes fell on Cameron, taking the young man in, studying his features. That was when he saw it. Under all that bravado, sarcasm, and disdain for responsibility, he could see a flicker of something, greatness perhaps, begging to be let out. For the first time in a long time, he gave an honest answer.

“My vision went past the size of one world. I wanted more. I needed more. It’s… hard to explain. I needed to know that I was worth something to every star in that sky. To know that I was the best.”

“And did you get your answer?” Cameron responded, all mirth gone from his voice as he seemed to hang on to every word.

Logan laughed derisively, shaking his head. “Not even close. I went from being a big fish in a small pond, to a minnow in the middle of the ocean. It was all I could do to keep swimming and not get eaten by the beasts below.”

“Then why stay? Why not come back home and be that big fish again? Why live a life like that?” Cameron asked, his head swimming with confusion. It was unfathomable to him how someone could give up a life of such status and security, but he was more than willing to hear the man out.

Another chuckle left Logan’s lips as the pair reached the end of the foot path, coming to a stop in front of a large clearing. He turned looking Cameron in the eye, a smirk poised on his usual cold demeanor. “Because sometimes, it’s fun to watch the beasts up close.”

He turned and pointed to the middle of the clearing, drawing Cameron’s eye. In the center, about twenty meters apart, two bright white X’s were illuminated onto the gently swaying grass.

Cameron’s mind raced in confusion and a spark of excitement. He turned back to Logan, eyes wide as he murmured, “What’s going on?”

Instead of answering, Logan looked to the sky, Cameron following the man’s gaze. Up above, he saw what looked to be two meteors, racing across the sky side by side. They were big, Cameron could tell even from this far away, but there was something else as well. His heart quickened as he realized they were growing larger. No, that wasn’t quite right, he decided. They were getting closer.

“Brace yourself kid. It’s about to get loud.” Logan’s words barely registered when Cameron heard a sound that could only be described as the sky being split open. Two concussive booms cracked through the open air as the blazing red hot meteors grew closer and closer. Cameron clamped his hands over his ears, gritting his teeth to keep them from chattering as he made his best effort to continue watching the display above him.

It was then, he could begin to make out the details. One powerful torso with a helmed face, it’s off white paint blackening on the edges thanks to the heat of reentry, matching the red trim. A large spiked club sat in its right hand, a shield the size of a small ship in its left. The other was more of a box than a chest, lacking a headpiece. It gripped a massive sword in its left hand, with a buckler hanging limp on its right, its drab brown paint nearly blending in thanks to the dim morning light. Powerful metal legs dangled in the free fall underneath them, giving a hint as to their true towering size. Cameron’s breath left him as he watched, both from the force of the shockwave, and pure awe. Two A.R.M.S. units were about to make planet fall.

The mechs hit the ground with a thunderous crash. Shockwaves rippled across the landscape, nearly taking Cameron off his feet from the sheer magnitude. Logan reached out, keeping the boy up in his vice-like grip, grinning like a madman.

“I’ve always loved this part,” He said, his voice hollow and distant as he looked upon the scene, clearly remembering a time when this was a mere prelude to a mission promising wealth and violence in equal measure, instead of the tame demonstration before them now.

It took Cameron a while before he was able to find his voice. Finally, once he was sure the earth had stopped shaking, did he speak.

“That…was…awesome” He exclaimed, pumping his fist into the air before rushing up to the helmed unit with a mace. Logan followed behind at a leisurely pace, watching the boy look on in awe.

“I know it’s cool kid, but I didn’t expect you to get so excited.” He said, approaching Cameron from behind. Cameron turned and smiled at him, looking like a kid in a candy store.

“These aren’t guard units, man. Two actual A.R.M.S. units from free space are sitting right in front of me! I mean do you even know the last time planetfall was made on Ketris?”

Cameron’s excitement was certainly valid. There was no secret as to the rarity for A.R.M.S. units not local to a planet or system to touch down from orbit unless it was during military operations. Even then, Ketris and the system as a whole had been at peace for the last few decades, marking this as a rather momentous occasion. Logan couldn’t help but smile, happy to see the child-like glee on Cameron’s face.

“I mean, technically. It’s more like a unit and a half.” He said, causing a look of confusion to flash across the prince’s face.

“What do you mean?”

Logan pointed a finger across the field, towards the angular, helmetless mech. Steam wafted visibly of the exposed metal, brown paint slowly blackening as it cooled down from atmospheric reentry.

“See that box on legs over there? The one that looks like the guard units walking around the capital?”

“Yeah?” Cameron replied, the inflection of his tone indicating he wasn’t following.

“Well, those are called Squire units. Named after the assistants to ancient warriors from earth. You can always tell Squires apart from other units because they lack the headpiece. They’re not integrated for threaded pilots.” As he spoke, Logan held an arm up, running a thumb over the shining screw holes bolted into his skin.

“Squires aren’t considered true A.R.M.S. units. My crusader here could take five at one odds and not even break a sweat. You’d be better off trying to take me down on foot instead of in that mech.” He finished his words with a smirk, looking over at Cameron to see if he was understanding

Cameron was indeed understanding now. In fact, he was enraptured. He nodded along, hanging onto every word. Never in his life had he felt such a sensation. There was ember in his stomach that was slowly building into a raging flame. His heart hammered as he looked at Logan with what felt like a clarity he had never known. He wanted to know more. Needed to. Logan was happy to oblige.

A short while later Cameron was making his way up a series of rungs on the back of one of the Squire’s legs making his way to the cockpit. He reached the top, finding the handle towards the center of the boxy container, nearly hidden from view save for the chipped brown paint on the hinges. He gripped the handle, giving it a sharp yank as Logan had instructed him to, and listened as a series of gears begin to turn. Finally, with a hiss of pressurized hair a seal broke open, bisecting the container from left to right. The lid slowly rose along with Cameron’s brows as he stared wide eyed at the scene before him.

“Wow,” He whispered, awestruck by what he saw.

The cockpit was an organized chaos. Wires and tubing ran the length of the walls, going into a control board lined with a litany of switches and breakers. A dashboard above the switches had a screen built into the middle, showing an outline of the Squire segmented into separate sections, monitoring the health of the arms, legs, and cockpit respectively. Underneath the outline, a bar lit in green ran the length of the screen, showing the reserves of solar energy the mech contained. Above all that, was a black wall, showing nothing but a thin layer of dust that Cameron wiped away. A plush, leather bucket seat was situated dead center, with a control stick on either side. To Cameron, it was a thing of beauty. So much so that he only stopped staring open mouthed at the compartment when Logan’s voice came crackling out over a set of speakers.

“Well ya gonna stare at it all day or are you gonna hop in?”

Cameron cracked a smile, scrambling to get inside. He sat down in the seat, reaching for the sticks as the lid to the compartment snapped shut behind him. As it did, the now pitch black cockpit grew alight, as the black wall above the dash lit up. There in front of him, was the field he had been standing on earlier, Logan’s mech staring him down across the way.

“Outside projector working? Can you see anything?” Logan asked, almost as if on cue.

“Uh, yeah. Seems to be anyways. I can see outside, and I can see you.”

“Good. That squire hasn’t seen use in quite a while so I was worried something had broken down. They’re tough little bastards. Not a lot in the way of armaments but you can run them into the ground and they’ll keep limping along. One of the reasons why they’re the staple of most planetary forces.”

“What’s the other reason?”

“They’re easy to pilot. I can teach a little shit like you how to be a halfway decent operator after only a few hours.”

“Was the ‘little shit’ necessary?” Cameron asked indignantly.

“Absolutely, now grip the sticks and let’s go through ‘baby’s first mech’ class.”

Cameron learned the basics quickly enough. That was in equal part thanks to Logan’s teaching, and the simplicity of the Squire’s controls. Each stick powered one side of the units frame. Working in tandem was how movement occurred. To go forward, Cameron had to simply push both sticks forward, and vice-versa to reverse. Turning and strafing required a little more thought, as the unit would turn either clockwise or counter-clockwise depending on which stick was being used. Pretty soon, Cameron was able to walk, turn, and run with little difficulty.

“How am I looking?” Cameron asked over the comm channel as the Squire lumbered up and down the field. Mud replaced grass in spaces where he had walked, massive clawed feet effortlessly turning over the soil with every step.

“Like a newborn calf.” Logan shot back, the smile on his face able to be heard over the radio.

“Considering I hadn’t even sat inside one of these things before today, I think I’m doing fairly well.”

“I’ll give you that. But now it’s time to get to the fun stuff.” Logan’s smile turned into a dangerous smirk as he took his first steps in his Crusader. Well, taking steps wasn’t quite right. In actuality, the unit glided across the ground, legs working back and forth in smooth skating motion as blue plasma pulsed out from two vents underneath each foot. The Crusader danced around, circling the Squire as Logan showed off the expansive movement of the mech.

“Okay, now that’s cool.” Cameron said, watching from within the squire as Logan weaved around him. It took a while more for Logan to go through the mannerisms of utilizing the plasma boosters unique to each A.R.M.S. unit. The Crusader for example had seven; four on it’s feet, two at the midsection for strafing, and a large one at the back for rapid acceleration. In contrast, the Squire only had the first two sections, leaving it at a distinct disadvantage in terms of speed. Still, it didn’t deter Cameron from proposing a challenge to his mentor.

“How about we test these things out?” He asked, after a while of smooth skating around the field.

“And just what kind of test do you propose?” Logan replied, sounding a tad apprehensive. He looked down through the Crusaders head slot spying the now ruined garden field. Though the numbing relief of integration didn’t make him feel too terribly bad, the last thing he wanted to do was to ruin the warm welcome Augustus had given him.

Cameron on the other hand, was nonplussed. “How about a game of tag?”

“Tag?”

“Yeah, you heard me. Tag. Think of it like a little movement exercise. How else am I going to acclimate to this?”

Logan thought for a moment, considering the offer. He felt conflicted. One part of him saw the damage they were doing to the royal gardens and it gnawed at his sense of professionalism that he prided himself on. The other part wanted to jump at the chance to do some training. He’d been unlinked for too long and needed to stretch his legs. It didn’t take long for one of them to win out.

“Fine… You’re it.” He said, blasting forward and swinging out with his shield arm to bash the Squire dead on, knocking it on its rear with a thundering crash.

Cameron’s body shook inside the cockpit as the Squire toppled over. He struggled to get up, but eventually he managed, using the mech’s sword as a crutch to pull its massive body upright.

“That was a cheap shot man.” He said, fighting hard to suppress the smile slowly creeping across his face.

“This was your idea kid.” Logan retorted, the distinct tinge of snark evident in his voice. “Not my fault you suck at the game.”

Cameron’s smirk fell as the spark of competition flashed through him. Without another word he pushed the sticks forward hard, activating the Squire’s boosters as he shot forward in a blink. Logan counted down in his head, calculating the distance before the squire would be on him. At the very last moment he shifted to the hard, watching as five tons of steel careened past him, rocketing towards the tree line.

“Damn it!” Cameron exclaimed, braking hard and turning to the right, carving a small channel into the soil as the Squire’s feet dug into the earth. He shot back out, leaping into the air as he zeroed in on Logan’s position. Again, he waited until the right moment, before simply leaping backwards just in time. He chuckled as watched Cameron’s mech bury itself into the muddy ground.

“Jeez, you really are bad at this.” He said, egging the prince on.

“Didn’t you say that your Crusader outpaced my Squire in damn near every way?”

“No… I said my Crusader outpaced your squire IN every way. It’s just pure numbers kid. We can run around this field all day and you won’t be able to touch me if I don’t want you to.”

“Then why the hell are we doing this?” Cameron asked, watching as the Crusader shrugged, mimicking the movements of its operator. His eyes cut to the switchboard, trying to see if there was anything he could use to prove Logan a liar. After a moment he spied a switch which was emblazoned with what seemed to be a smoke cloud. A smile teased the corner of his mouth as he stared Logan down again, before rushing back in.

“You just don’t listen do you?” Logan replied with a sigh, counting down the distance in his head once again.

“What can I say? I don’t like being told I can’t do something.” Cameron’s smile was growing as he inched closer and closer to the Crusader’s location. Unbeknownst to Logan, Cameron counted down as well, waiting for his moment. He found it as he got within five meters of his target. Then, as he heard Logan’s booster prime for a dash, he flipped the switch.

Twin hatches flipped open on the Squire’s shoulders as six canisters propelled forward before burying themselves halfway into the dirt. As they did so, the canisters opened with a sharp hiss. Smoke billowed in thick plumes covering the field in a dense fog completely concealing both units.

“Interesting…” Logan said, straining his eyes, trying his damnedest to make out the definitive shape of the squire through the ever shifting smoke.

“I think you forgot something important though kid.”

“And what’s that Logan?” Cameron replied, gently shifting the momentum of the Squire to slowly make his way across the ground in a silent glide.

“You’ve blinded yourself too. We’re still in the same position, but I’ll hand it to you that you’ve increased our percentage for a head on collision a good amount.”

Cameron smirked, boosters softly flaring as he skirted around the perimeter of the cloud, marked by a distinct increase in visibility. “Hey… The game is I just have to touch you, we didn’t specify how hard that touch has to be.”

Logan furrowed his brow, scanning his surroundings. He knew he could trivialize this by having Vic conduct a heat signature scan, but he was determined to embrace and nurture Cameron’s tactical education, happy the prince was embracing his role, even if he didn’t know it. Besides, where was the fun in cheating in a game that was just for fun?

Then the first sword thrust cut through the heavy fog, inches from his head. His eyes widened in surprise as he dashed backward. The second attack, this one a long sweeping horizontal slash, followed up from the first in the blink of an eye. He gritted his teeth, feeling the g-forces pressing on his ribs as he hooked to the right, leading the blade as it completed its arc. Pretty soon, both units were dancing in and out of the fog, Cameron thrusting and slashing, as Logan dodged and evaded, watching the blade inch closer every second. Logan felt the sweat dripping from his brow, tasted the iron in the back of his throat as he sucked in air, heard his heart pounding in his ears as he danced around Cameron’s attacks. He couldn’t remember the last time he had this much fun.

It wasn’t meant to last though. It was a shame that the end came just as Cameron was about to hit his mark.

“There you are!” He shouted as he swung in a powerful downward arc. He only made it a quarter of the way through when he felt the Squire’s arm stop in an instant. Cameron struggled, grabbing the stick to free the arm from whatever kept it locked in place. When the smoke finally cleared, Cameron could see what had hindered his progress.

Standing off to the side, was the Crusader, its hand outstretched to catch Cameron’s holding his Squire by its wrist as Logan’s voice crackled out over the speakers. “Yeah, I cheated a little bit and engaged my Rail Drive to get an extra burst of speed. But in my defense… I hate losing.”

Cameron was dumbstruck. Was this the privilege of an A.R.M.S. pilot? Something that big should never move that fast, or silent. And yet here he was, bested by a giant blocky mech that defied the laws of science.

It was terrifying, when he stopped to consider the ramifications of this. Terrifying, and awesome. He felt a large grin creep onto face as Logan spoke up again.

“How you feeling kid?”

Cameron saw his hand shaking as he turned on his suits PA system. Whether that was nervousness or excitement, he wasn’t sure. What he was sure of however, was the emotion shooting through him at this very moment. So sure was he, that the first things out of his lips, were an answer more honest than he’d ever been.

“Alive, Logan. I feel alive.”

They say that time flies when you’re having fun. It’s an old earth proverb, passed down from the mother planet to the colonies long ago, along with a litany of other such phrases and slang. It means that when you’re living in the moment, enjoying the time you’re spending with family or friends, that hours seem to slip past in the blink of an eye. If the saying was true, Cameron must have been having the time of his life.

Before he knew it, two weeks had come and gone, and he hadn’t even realized it. He had been too preoccupied, caught up in learning all he could concerning his newfound passion; piloting. His days of late mornings and even later evenings filled with wine, women, and song, had been replaced with a grueling training regimen of Logan’s own design. He was up long before the sun, vomiting from strenuous exercise by the time most of lowland class had risen to tend their fields. At night, he’d nearly have to be dragged by Markus back to his to his bed, body aching, and awake long enough to wolf down leftovers from the dinner he had missed, only to pass out, and do it again the next day. He’d never been happier.

In contrast, Logan had never been more annoyed.

“This isn’t supposed to be fun y’know” He said, looking down at Cameron from the top of a steep incline. “Why the hell do you have that look on your face?”

“W-What look?” Cameron sputtered out in a gasp, looking up at Logan through a mop of black hair, clinging to his sweaty forehead.

“That shit-eating grin.” Logan said, feeling his eye twitching. “It’s weird. No one should be happy doing this.”

The activity in question was a simple and painful one. The pair had taken a private train to a nearby island, where a large plateau sat, hidden amongst the dense foliage of the untouched jungle. There was only one way to reach the summit, and that was through a winding, kilometer long trail, so steep in sections that it would have been easier to climb instead of run up it. But run they did, with Logan sprinting ahead, using his enhanced agility and dexterity honed from years of combat to reach the peak before Cameron had even gotten halfway.

“W-what are you talking about, man? I’m having the time of my life.” Cameron shot back, widening his grin as he came to the last few hundred meters of terrain that ran at a near ninety-degree angle.

“I think I hate you just a little bit more now.” Logan said, watching the prince struggle and slide back a few meters, a wry smile of his own threatening to break his stern gaze as he mused to himself. The kid had heart. Who knew that a simple ride inside of a squire would elicit such a response out of him? He was damn near a different person compared to the spoiled brat logan had met two weeks prior. And though he’d never admit it openly, there was a part of him that looked forward to these early mornings. Whether it was movement, strength training, or combatives, Logan was enjoying his time with the kid as well.

It took a Cameron fifteen more minutes to summit the plateau, crossing the finish line on his hands and knees, dry heaving and dripping sweat. Logan didn’t speak right away. He waited a few minutes, letting the kid catch his breath, choosing instead to sit at the cliff-side in silence, watching the sunrise paint the sky a gentle pink.

It took a while before Logan heard Cameron’s footsteps coming towards him. Still, he kept his back turned to the boy, a silent invitation to come and enjoy the moment with him.

“What are you looking at?” Cameron asked as sat down next to Logan, grunting from pain and exhaustion as he did so.

Logan shrugged, “I guess it’s more when I’m looking, not really a what.”

“Okay…” Cameron said, voice rising in inflection to voice his confusion. “Care to enlighten me or do you just plan to leave me in suspense?”

Logan chuckled, shaking his head, as he nodded in the direction of the capital island. “Just remembering what it looked like when I had first left.”

“Well, has it changed much?”

In all honesty, it had. In terms of the aesthetics that much was definitely certain. The alabaster turrets surrounding the palace were new, looking as if they supported the sun itself from where it crested just over the island. But it wasn’t just Logan’s surroundings that were different. It was as if the very energy of the planet had changed. There was a tension in the air, an underlying current of anxiety and urgency that had kept Logan on edge ever since he touched back down to Ketris. He knew he was there, speaking with Augustus, and shaking his hand, and yet, it felt like his old friend was a million miles away. He was a stranger to this world. Not here to reminisce or bring up good times long past, but to do a job, and then expected to leave without a word. It was enough to cause his stomach to knot up with a feeling of disgust, but he wasn’t about to show it, especially not to Cameron.

“Nah, I don’t think it’s changed too much.” He replied, shaking his head, “Course I’ve spent the last decade and a half as a professional punching back so my memory ain’t all it’s cracked up to be.” He said while tapping his temple, chuckling at his own expense.

Cameron responded with a snicker of his own as he stood, proffering a hand to Logan to help him up. “Maybe. What do you say we head down? Should be able to get back home without having to fight the morning rush.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, a smirk beginning to form on his face. “What are you talking about? Who said we’re done here?”

Cameron gave a look of confusion and shrugged. “Oh… I don’t know. Just figured since we-”

“We’re done when I say we’re done.” Logan said, cutting Cameron off. His tone wasn’t angry or hostile, yet still carried with it an authoritative weight that cause Cameron to nod, a serious look taking over his face.

“Understood, what do you want me to do?” He asked.

Logan responded with actions rather than words. In a flash, he spun and delivered a hard kick to Cameron’s back. It wasn’t a full powered strike, but his enhanced strength made sure it still had enough impact to force Cameron over the edge, tumbling down the steep terrain towards the start of the trail below.

“Run it again!” Logan called out, laughing as he heard Cameron’s curses trail lower in volume the farther down he fell. Logan wasn’t sure if the kid was swearing at him, or the pain of crashing repeatedly into the hard packed dirt, but he knew Cameron meant every word.

---

There was a one sided tension that filled the train car as Logan and Cameron made their way back to the capital. The car was empty save for the two of them and they used the ample to room to stretch out and relax, each taking a separate side of the car. Well, Logan was relaxed anyway, lounging back against the seat, arms stretched out, smirking at Cameron as the boy glared daggers at him across the way.

“What’s wrong?” Logan asked with a chuckle.

“You’re a fucking sadist, that’s what's wrong.” Cameron shot back in an angry growl.

Logan couldn’t hold his amusement in any longer, clutching his stomach as he laughed heartily. “Oh come on kid. You gotta admit it was at least a little funny.”

“You kicked me off a mountain!” Cameron bellowed.

“First of all,” Logan began, holding up one finger and flashing a smarmy grin. “It was a plateau, a mesa at best. Second of all, you’re alive ain’t you?”

Logan watched as the Cameron eyed him hard, studying him for a moment, before wincing and sitting back, relaxing in his own seat. “I think I’m starting to miss the time when you couldn’t stand me.”

“Who said I can stand you now?”

Cameron’s eye twitched, and Logan knew that was enough jokes for the time being. As much shit he’d given the boy in weeks past, Logan was happy that Cameron had come to enjoy and look forward to their training sessions. It made his job easier of prepping the kid before his ascension to Seneschal at least. He may as well cut him some slack.

He cleared his throat, his smile morphing into one of sincerity instead of amusement, as he looked at Cameron. “All jokes aside, you did good today kid, really.”

This seemed to catch Cameron off guard. He looked up at Logan, meeting his eyes with his own, and raised an eyebrow. “Oh… thanks. I’m really just doing what you tell me to, though.”

“You’d be surprised how hard that can be for some people.” Logan shot back, looking at the window as spoke. “Being able to take orders is just as important as being able to give them.”

“Yeah well… I’ve never been too good at either of those things.” Cameron said, bringing Logan’s attention back to him.

“So I’ve heard,” Logan said. “Any particular reason as to why? Or do you just enjoy making your father’s life a living hell?”

Though he meant it as a joke, Logan felt a pang of regret as he watched Cameron’s face fall into an introspective grimace. He was quiet for a long time, not responding to Logan who was silently cursing himself for ruining the mood. He chewed his lip for a moment trying to think of what to say.

“Kid… I didn’t mean-,” He began, before Cameron cut him off.

“It’s whatever man,” Cameron said, eyes cast down, not meeting Logan’s gaze. “I’ve heard it all before. I just… I wish things were different y’know? I mean, no one wants to be the family fuck up. It’s not fun to be surrounded by people, not because they want to be around you, but because they feel like they need to babysit you.”

A feeling of pity accompanied the regret Logan was feeling as he listened to Cameron vent and he realized that in the time he’d been here, never once did he bother to understand why the kid was the way he was. He looked back out the window and saw that they still had a ways to go before pulling into the station, before turning back to Cameron, who looked like the human equivalent of a kicked puppy.

“And I’m not an idiot,” Cameron continued, his head going up to look at the ceiling, seemingly willing to look anywhere but in Logan’s direction. “I know that this is only a problem of the privileged. ‘Oh I have to be in charge of the military and get to hang out in the royal palace while driving around in a giant mech, woe is me.’ It’s not lost on me that I’m just a brat whining about a job most people would kill to have.”

“Then why are you whining about it?” Logan asked, egging the boy on. He didn’t mean for it to sound harsh or antagonistic, merely wanting Cameron to let it all out.

“Because it’s the lack of a choice, Logan.” Cameron replied, his voice coming out as a growl. Logan could see that he was grinding his teeth, a vein pulsing on his temple as he continued. “That’s everyone else’s privilege. Not mine. It’s not about whether I want to be Seneschal. But what I want, is a choice. I want to set my path and not have it based on some policy written hundreds of years ago. It’s not fair. Because now I have to be the man for the job. They can’t find someone better than me. I’m it. Full stop. But did anyone stop and think about the fact that maybe leading an army isn’t right for me? No. Because I’m going to lead it whether I want to or not.”

The rest of the journey passed in silence, the only sound being the gentle rumble of the high-speed train on its track. Finally, as the train pulled into the station, the hiss of it’s hydraulics sounding out through the relatively quiet morning, Logan spoke up.

“I’m sorry Cameron.” He said, his voice soft and warm, carrying a tone of deep sincerity.

Cameron simply shrugged, shaking his head, eyes looking out the window as he replied. “It is what it is man I’ll be -”

“No.” Logan cut him off, the word coming out as a defiant order that caused Cameron to finally meet the man’s eyes. Logan was staring at him, a look of sympathy on his face, eyes shining with a something akin to a shared understanding.

“I’m sorry for not taking the time. I’m sorry for not trying to understand until now just what you were going through. From everything I’d heard, I thought you were just some spoiled rich kid throwing a tantrum because daddy was making you doing something you didn’t want to do.”

As Logan spoke, he could see Cameron’s head lowering again, going back into a sadness that had probably been affecting the kid long before he’d come around. Cameron needed someone to cut him some slack, and in that moment, Logan was going to fill that need.

“But I was wrong.” He began, his voice keeping in line with a firm authority, causing Camerons forehead to wrinkle in confusion as he looked back up. Logan sighed, looking at him. “You got heart kid, a drive I haven’t seen in a long time. You were just lacking passion I guess. You were lacking a choice, and more than anything, I’m sorry you didn’t get one.”

Logan could see Cameron’s eyes go misty for the briefest moments. He looked visibly more relaxed. Like a heavy weight had been taken off his shoulders. He watched as Cameron chewed the inside of his cheek, trying to think of a reply, but Logan simply held up a hand, cracking a smile in an attempt to cut the emotional atmosphere that had filled the compartment.

“You don’t need to say anything back. Just seemed like it need to be said is all. Besides, I’m paid to be your trainer, not your therapist.”

Cameron chuckled, causing Logan to do the same. Then the kid stood and crossed over to where Logan was sitting, holding out a hand as the doors to the compartment opened.

“Thanks Logan. I appreciate it. Really.”

Logan’s smile grew, and he gave a nod, reaching out to take Cameron’s hand, standing up and turning to look out to the streets of the capital as they filled with commuters on their way to work.

“You’re welcome kid. Now, more importantly, are you hungry?” He asked looking over at Cameron with a raised eyebrow.

Cameron laughed, his grin going ear to ear as he nodded. “Yeah, I could eat.”

Cameron was feeling reinvigorated as he and Logan made their way onto the palace grounds. Of course he was exhausted, and fairly certain he’d broken a few ribs from where Logan had kicked him off the plateau, but none of that mattered to him right now. Instead, there was a sense of freedom coursing through his body. A feeling of visibility that he’d been missing for a long time. That feeling lasted for all but a fleeting moment until he saw who was standing there to greet them on the steps leading up into the palace proper.

“There you are. I was afraid we’d be forced to send the guard out to collect you from whatever tavern you passed out in. Happy to see that I was wrong” The king’s booming voice seemed to melt away the feelings of happiness and levity that had warmed Cameron’s soul since the moment they left the train station. He was standing there expectantly, adorned in a gilded blue robe. Flanking him on both sides were the ambassadors, Lendrick and Darwin, the former flashing a toothy, false smile, while the latter’s vacant gaze slowly drifted between Logan and Cameron.

“Good morning Father.” Cameron said, forcing a trademark grin to appear on his face as he took a step forward. “A bit early to be taking the dogs for a walk don’t you think?”

Augustus looked momentarily confused before looking between Darwin and Lendrick, then back to his son, his tone dropping into an irritated growl. “A bit early to be making such childish comments, boy.” He said, emphasizing the last word of the sentence like it was a curse.

Cameron gave a shrug, his mood souring by the minute, “And yet I made them, anyway. Funny how that works isn’t it?”

Augustus’s face went a bright red, a vein protruding from his brow, as he opened his mouth to no yell. Then he caught himself and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath while rubbing his temples. “Enough. I will not play these games. The day of Miranda’s coronation draws closer, as does your ascension to Seneschal. The ambassadors have requested an assessment of your combat abilities. I’m of the mind to oblige them ”

Another voice joined the exchange then. Logan’s gruff timbre filled the air as he couldn’t stop himself, more so shouting than speaking. “He’s not ready!”

All eyes turned on Logan, including Cameron’s. He saw worry in the mercenary's eyes, which didn’t help him feel better about the prospect of whatever his father had in mind for an assessment. Yet, judging by Logan’s outburst, it couldn’t be good.

“What do you mean ‘he’s not ready’?” Lendrick called out, his pretentious, slurry, highborn accent dripping with a bored pretentiousness. “Haven’t you been training the boy for the past few weeks?”

“Yes…” Logan said slowly through gritted teeth. “But he’s not combat ready yet. I was under the impression I’d have more time to teach him.”

“That’s rather… disappointing Mr. Rake.” Lendrick shot back, not bothering to hide his disdain. “His Majesty has done nothing but speak of your accomplishments and accolades both within the kingdom as well as the fleet. To hear that you cannot accomplish the simple task of preparing a noble scion of the Ketrisite kingdom is simply-”

“I’ll do it.” Cameron said, his voice deep and firm with a determined finality. All eyes broke from the exchange between Logan and Lendrick, focusing on him instead.

All was quiet for the longest time, the only noise being the soft trill of birdsong coming from the trees above. Then, as if a starting pistol had sounded, a cacophony of voices erupted all at once, each vying to be heard over the other.

“That’s a good son.” Augustus said, nodding in gruff approval.

“Wonderful,” Lendrick agreed, clapping his hands together triumphantly.

“Are you insane?!” Logan exclaimed, voice straining from the volume and intensity of his statement.

Cameron felt an iron like grip on his shoulder, and before he could react, Logan had spun him around, looking at him wide-eyed. “Kid, you don’t know what all goes into a combat assessment. Just please, listen to me on this. You’re not ready.”

He looked back at Logan, eyes firm and jaw set. Cameron knew he wasn’t ready. Even with Logan’s hellish training, most of it had been done outside of a Squire. What the hell was he going to do in a combat environment? And yet… he didn’t care. All that mattered to him was being in the cockpit again. There was a fire burning inside of his very soul. An almost primal need to do this. It was like this is what he was born to do. To actually pilot an A.R.M.S. unit. So when he turned to his father and spoke, he did it with an unyielding conviction.

“Tomorrow. Midday. Tell me where you need me to be and I’ll be there.”

A growl of frustration came from behind him, but Cameron didn’t dare look back. He’d made his decision and was more than prepared to live with the consequences.

His father simply nodded, flashing a wry smile, that was a rare sight for Cameron. “Very well. Be at the guard barracks by midday and we’ll go from there.”

With that the king turned and was about to walk away, but Logan wasn’t quite done voicing is displeasure.

“Augustus!” He shouted. Cameron watched as both of the dignitaries flinched involuntarily, though the king simply turned back, eyeing Logan from where he stood on the steps.

Logan walked forward, passing by Cameron without so much as a single glance, making a beeline to where the king stood. When he was nose to nose with the man, Augustus based on his place on the steps and Logan based on his augmented physique, he spoke again, no longer yelling, but letting the dangerous growl that left his throat be heard by everyone around.

“We need to talk.”

---

The tension in the king’s office was tense as he and Logan entered. They practically marched through the entryway with loud, heavy footsteps that echoed off the surrounding walls. This was further punctuated by a loud boom that vibrated the walls as Logan slammed the door shut, his rage boiling over before the latch had even clicked.

“Are you fucking insane?!” He bellowed, staring daggers at Augustus who was matching Logan’s furious glare with one of his own. “Cause the only explanation as to why your throwing your son into a squire combat assessment has to be that you’ve lost you goddamn mind!”

“First of all,” Augustus began, speaking through gritted teeth while sitting down in a plush leather office chair. “Lower your voice. Regardless of our previous relationship, and your lack of citizenship, I am a noble of the planet Ketris and a proxy of the mother planet. I will not be shouted at like a misbehaving toddler. Second, yes, Cameron is my son. However, he is also the future Seneschal of the planet. His duty to the people, outweighs my duty as his father.”

“That’s bullshit and you know it.” Logan growled. “It takes guard cadets a year at least of study and practice before they’re ready to take a combat assessment. You know this! Throwing Cameron into one after only two weeks isn’t just incredibly harsh and shortsighted. It’s incredibly stupid as well. Hell, if you want him dead so badly, I’ll give you a rail pistol and you can go out there and do the job yourself instead of wasting everyone’s time.”

Augustus looked at Logan for a moment, studying him in silence before reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he expelled a weary sigh. “I know that you’ve been away from politics for a long time Logan. But please try to use your brain in this situation.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Logan said, looking at Augustus like he was crazy.

Augustus simply responded by motioning for Logan to take a seat. He did as requested and watched as the King reached beneath the desk and brought up a decanter of whiskey and two crystal glasses, pouring a generous amount of liquid in each. After handing one glass to Logan and taking a long drink from his own, draining nearly half of the alcohol from the glass, the king finally spoke.

“Do you know why, out of all three planets in this system currently colonized, that Ketris is the richest and most developed?”

Logan honestly couldn’t answer. He’d heard stories of the state of Makir and Amreith but had never felt the need to investigate for himself. He slowly shook his head, and watched as Augustus leaned back in his chair, exposing a window behind him, and pointing out it towards the star-port off in the distance.

“We possess the only intersystem port. Without Ketris, food, supplies, and luxury items from throughout the galaxy could not enter the system.”

Space travel had existed since the mid twenty-first century, but early pioneers were limited to staying within their own system. It was only with the invention of the Rail Engine in the 2250’s, that inter-system travel was possible. But it was a finnicky process, still within its infancy even six hundred years later, with strict classifications and rules in place regarding density and volume ratios for the engine to work properly, and as such, large ports such as the one on Ketris were few and far between.

“Without Ketris,” Augustus continued, “Three kingdoms fall. And the other rulers know this. They know how much money and luxury our port brings in, how important it is to our planet.”

“Okay? And?” Logan said, still struggling to make the connection.

Augustus sighed heavily, before giving Logan a stern look, “They also know that they don’t need a Ketrisite ruler controlling the trade.”

It clicked for Logan then, the mental puzzle pieces falling in place as his eyes went wide. He looked from the port then back to Augustus. “You tax them on every import they bring in, don’t you.”

The king nodded, “As is my right as planetary ruler. I will not be shamed for giving my people a prosperous world to call home.”

“So you’re essentially holding two planets hostage and pissing off the two people who’s egos rival your own.” Logan said, taking another sip of his drink, his eyes settling on Augustus again, who’s face was turning a bright shade of pink from irritation.

“In a manner of speaking…” Augustus growled through gritted teeth, “Yes.”

“Then that makes even less sense.” Logan shot back, cause a wave of confusion to flash across Augustus’s face.

He blinked, looking at Logan for questioningly, an eyebrow slowly raising. “Explain.”

Logan drained the rest of his whiskey, setting the crystal glass down on the desk with a heavy thud and leaned back in his chair, speaking as he stretched.

“Why don’t you simply just pull a veteran guard and make him seneschal? There’s nothing wrong with that. Unless breaking tradition is too taboo for you.”

The king had a surprised look on his face that swiftly morphed into confusion, before settling on an amused smirk. “Is that why you think I haven’t done just that? Tradition?”

Logan gave a sheepish look, raising an eyebrow. “Well… Not if it makes me sound like an idiot.”

Augustus gave what must have been the first genuine smile Logan had seen since the day he landed, then, the king gave a heartly laugh. “No, Logan. It’s not your fault. I wouldn’t expect you to think the way a royal does. That’s not an insult either. I wish I had your outlook. Strength and ability. That’s the world you live in, whereas I live in the world of perception.”

“Meaning what exactly?” Logan asked, feeling a little less embarrassed by his ignorance.

“Meaning that, in my world, as well as the world all monarchs and nobles belong to, perceived strength is just as if not more important than actual strength. If I were to simply take a veteran and promote them to seneschal, that would solve my problem of actual strength yes. But it would also be seen as a weakness. A tradition of over four hundred years, done away with just like that?” Augustus asked, snapping his fingers to emphasize the point.

“Every noble in the system would see this as a weakness. They’d assume that I have no faith in Cameron, and as such, no faith in Miranda either. My offspring would look weak in the eyes of the interplanetary stage and would be beset on all sides by aggressors and usurpers, throwing Ketris in a conflict, simply because I tried to do the right thing by son.”

Silence fell over the room, followed by a thick air of tension. Logan felt a heavy weight settle on his shoulders. A weariness that mentally exhausted him. He sighed, bring his hands to his face, running them over it and up across his bald head. “So,” He began, his voice an even, drained tone. “It’s not that you’re demanding Cameron do this because you want to punish him. It’s because you have to.”

Augustus nodded, looking sad and shameful, yet determined at the same time. “I love my son. And I wish nothing but success for him in this endeavor and throughout his life. But, he is one man on a planet of millions. One man, with a very important role to play in the coming days. I have faith that he can pull through and pass this exam. Perhaps not unscathed, but certainly pass. But should he fail… It will be in service to Ketris and her people. In short, if he dies, he dies. We will carry on with the next Seneschal down the line.

Logan ground his teeth, feeling his anger rise up again from the King’s callousness. But he couldn’t fault his old friend. He was responsible for the safety of an entire planet, and Logan believed that Augustus would do anything and sacrifice anyone including himself if it meant securing that safety. Logan on the other hand, only had one person to look out for and that was himself. Even so, he’d started to grow attached to Cameron in the past few weeks, and that meant something to him.

“Fuck this.” He said, voice cold and sharp as he turned away and walked towards the door, the gears in his head turning as he formulated a plan.

“Where are you going?” Augustus’s voice rang out behind him.

“To prep him.” Logan said flatly, turning the nob and throwing open the door. “I already taught him how to pilot a mech. Now I’m going to show him to kill with one.”

Cameron’s eyes felt like they were glued shut, refusing to open as he heard Logan’s voice breaking him from his slumber, an echoing horrible growl that brough Cameron’s thoughts back to all the time he’d spent with the lunatic. He grumbled sleepily, tossing and turning as he felt his slumber slowly drifting away after hearing Logan’s voice again. He couldn’t quite make out what the man was saying, but as far as Cameron was concerned, it could wait a few hours. After not hearing anything for a while, Cameron had figured he’d been given a reprieve and settled down, slowly drifting off to sleep once again.

Cameron had figured wrong.

Suddenly an ice cold liquid hit his face, stealing his breath in an instant and seeping down his neck and under his clothing. He shot up in an instant, murderous intent in his eyes as they locked on Logan’s form.

“What the fuck do you want?!” He bellowed, hands balled into fists.

“It’s been an hour. Nap times over,” Logan reached for a rag perched on top of his shoulder and tossed it to Cameron. “Clean yourself up as best you can. They’ll be here soon.”

Cameron shot another glare at Logan but didn’t protest, grumbling as he turned and walked away, making his way underneath the squire he’d been piloting, now lying dormant, and sitting down in a cool shaded spot, letting its massive metal leg shield him from the sun’s bright heat as he ran the rag over his oily face. The moment the cool rag hit his skin, Cameron let out a sigh of relief, he ran the rag over his bruised and battered arms and shoulders, before removing his sweat and blood stained training tunic and beginning washing the rest of his torso.

His mind wandered as he bathed, recalling the past twenty-four hours. With no preamble, Logan had burst into Cameron’s room and practically dragged him out of the palace, taking him to the training field and ran him ragged with high-intensity combat training. For ten hours straight, he’d sat in the squire's cockpit, running agility and reaction drills, and sparring with Logan’s Crusader repeatedly. Afterwards, Logan had graced him with a one hour break to eat and rest, only to do it all over again. He hadn’t taken it easy on him either, with using everything at his disposal except for his mace.

Instead, Logan simply beat the hell out of him and his squire with nothing but a shield and his fists. The culminating result was a heavily dented squire, and a badly beaten Cameron. Still, even though he ached all over and his head pounded from a lack of sleep, he felt good. A certain clarity washed over him and he could feel his muscles tighten, coiling like a spring, ready for action at any moment. He knew this feeling wouldn’t last much longer, and eventually his body would force him to sleep, yet still, he enjoyed the strange euphoria.

After taking some time to get himself situated, Cameron pulled his tattered top back on, before walking to where Logan stood at the edge of the training field, eyes fixed on the gateway leading out to the guardhouse.

“They show up yet?” Cameron asked, watching as Logan shook his head, not taking his eyes off the gate.

“Not yet. But I heard the train a few minutes ago so I can only assume.”

“Fair enough. So… what all is this assessment going to encompass? All I know is that it’s going to be a squire fight but you haven’t really given me details.”

“That’s because I don’t know.” Logan said, his tone giving the impression that this was supposed to be common knowledge.

Cameron blinked, looking over at the Logan. “What do you mean you don’t know?”

Logan shrugged, “I mean I don’t know. Every assessment is different. It’s dependent on the assessor.”

“Well, if that’s the case, then who’s the assessor?”

“Something tells me we’re about to find out.” Logan said, nodding and pointing with his chin to the gate, causing Cameron’s attention to shift to the five people now approaching them.

Three of them were familiar, with King Augustus leading the group, flanked on either side by Lendrick and Darwin. The other two were strangers to Cameron, however. They were similar in height and build, and appeared to be similar in age as well, each of them looking aged and grizzled. One of them had short cropped graying hair, faded on the sides and hard, brown eyes, while the other one had his brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, his eyes hidden behind a pair of sunglasses. They also shared a similar outfit, with both men dressed in the practical garb of brown combat pants and tight white compression shirts.

“Sorry dad. Logan’s already filled the abusive babysitter position. You’ll have to take these two dipshits back.”

Augustus didn’t even register the remark, choosing instead to let out a shocked gasp as he looked at Cameron’s sorry state. “By the stars boy what have you been doing?!”

“Training.” Logan said flatly, crossing his arms. “What does it look like we’ve been doing?”

“Was it torture training?!” Augustus asked, his gaze turning on Logan. “He looks beaten half to death! This assessment is compromised already if he can’t perform the task.”

“Oh don’t worry about me.” Cameron said, stifling a yawn, “I feel great.”

“I’m sure…” Augustus said slowly, emphasizing his skepticism. Then he remembered he wasn’t the only one there, and attempted to save his sudden shock by clearing his throat and changing the subject.

“This is Captain Merril, and Sergeant Kurs, two guards from Amreith who have graciously volunteered to be your opponents for this assessment today.”

Now it was Cameron and Logan’s turn to be surprised, each of them raising an eyebrow in confusion before looking from Augustus, to each other, then back to Augustus before Logan voice his concern.

“Is there any particular reason why his assessment needs to be done by foreign combatants?”

Before the King could respond, Lendrick stepped forward, a wolfish grin on his face as he spoke. “I can answer that. As a representative of Amreith, it is not only my duty to facilitate the supervision of Prince Caustos’s diplomatic interests, but his economic ones as well. With all of our planetary exports being received into the port of Ketris, I felt it appropriate to make sure our interests would continue to be secured for the foreseeable future. To that end, I’ve requested two of our most decorated veterans to take part in this assessment today.”

Cameron could hear the growl hanging in Logan’s throat grow louder the longer the dignitary spoke. Lendrick must have heard as well, as his grin grew, his teeth showing as he ended the explanation with, “That’s not an issue is it?”

There was a pause as everyone looked between Lendrick and Logan, expecting a response laced with expletives and at a higher volume than was appropriate. So when Cameron was the one who answered, this caught everyone by surprise.

“No problem at all.” He said flatly, eyeing Lendrick with the same look the ambassador had been giving Logan.

“Oh… er. Well.. Good.” Lendrick said, stuttering out his response as he looked at Cameron.

“I just have one request for you Lendrick.” Cameron said, taking a step forward and getting in the dignitaries personal space.

“And what’s that?” Lendrick asked, still forcing a smile onto his face, even as his eyes burned with hate and anger.

Cameron leaned down, meeting the stout man at eye level as he whispered.

“Watch carefully.”

---

A short while later, Logan and Cameron gathered around the ladder leading up to the Squires cockpit. As confident as he had been, Cameron still couldn’t help but to feel his stomach knotting up with anxiety. He reached down to clutch at his stomach involuntarily. Logan watched and pursed his lips, looking at Cameron sympathetically.

“You alright kid?” He asked softly.

Cameron nodded, pulling his hand away as he felt the knotting turn to nauseousness. He swallowed dryly, a sour taste rising in the back of his throat. “Y- Yeah. I’ll be okay. Just some nerves is all.”

“You better get over them quick.” Logan said, “After all that shit you talked, this isn’t the time to get stage fright.”

Cameron gave a soft laugh, choking down a dry heave. “Yeah, that probably wasn’t the best idea.”

“Not at all.” Logan agreed, his cheeks raising as he smiled. “But it was hilarious to watch that asshole lose his shit-eating grin.”

“Now I just need to walk the talk.” Cameron said, giving a sigh as he felt his nausea fade. He stood tall and exhaled, looking into Logan’s eyes as he asked the question that his body needed an answer too. All the nausea, the worry, the fear. They washed over him in a wave of anxiety, because he knew that for all of his blustering and false confidence, Cameron couldn’t truly believe in his abilities unless he knew the answer to his query from the only person who’s opinion mattered right now.

“Be honest with me, Logan. Can I do this? Can I win?”

“Yes.” Logan said with hesitating, his conviction iron clad.

Cameron couldn’t see a hint of doubt in his mentors eyes. A feeling of relief washed over him, building in intensity the longer he stared, his eyes failing to assess any dishonesty or deceipt. If Logan had faith enough in him, then the least Cameron could do is trust in him, therefore trusting in himself.

Cameron nodded, giving a final look before he grasped the rung of the latter beginning to climb up towards the cockpit.

“Hey kid! Wait a second!” Logan’s voice called out to him from below.

Cameron looked down and was getting ready to ask why, when he watched Logan toss a headset up to him, motioning for him to put it on, to which Cameron nodded, putting the cushioned cups over his ear, hearing his heart hammering in his ears with every rung that he ascended.

Eventually, Cameron reached the cockpit. He hopped inside, and closed the hatch before he began to flip the switches on the dash, listening to a high pitched whine begin to rise in volume as the engine cycled on.

“Kid.. Can you hear me?” Logan’s voice crackled in his ears through the headset. Cameron waited until the engine had fully cycled, the whine lowering in volume, before he flicked the microphone down and began to speak into it.

“Loud and clear Logan.” Cameron said, eyes looking forward to across the field where the two Amreith veterans and their squires stood, weapons already drawn, ready for a fight. Cameron wasn’t sure what to do from here, assuming Logan would guide him if need be, but instead, he watched as his father walked forward, raising his hands to gather their attention, and motioning for them to turn on the outer speaker on their squire units, so he could be heard. Cameron did as requested, watching his father as the king began the festivities.

“We are gathered here today, in accordance with the sacred texts of sovereignty gifted to us from the Mother Planet. Today, young Cameron Pellyn has agreed to have his combat and piloting capabilities be assessed and examined by Lord Lazarus Lendrick of Amreith, as is his right. This bout will be used to legitimize Prince Pellyn’s ascension to Seneschal as agreed by all third parties and signed off by the ruling monarch of the hosting Planet. The rules for this assessment are as follows;

1. No one but the chosen combatants will be allowed to intervene with this assessment at anytime until said assessment has reached it’s conclusion. Coaching and radio communication will be allowed.

2. This assessment will end when the assessing proctor is satisfied with the examinees result, or neither side can continue.

3. Grievous injuries will be allowed to take place without legal ramifications, in order to simulate a real-world scenario. This includes death.

Do you understand the rules as I have stated them to you now?”

Cameron could hear the two men sound off in the affirmative from across the way, and he responded as well. He pushed down a fresh wave of anxiety and fear, switching off the microphone in the cockpit for a moment as he only had words for Logan, his eyes staring intently on his father who was slowly raising his hand high into the air.

“Any last-minute advice here man?” He asked into the microphone. He heard nothing but static for a moment, but eventually Logan’s voice came over the headset, speaking with a hardened and dangerous tone that quick cut through any doubt that had settled in.

“Yeah, I do,” Logan began, “Now listen carefully. Focus up… Lock in… and put these fuckers in the dirt.”

Cameron had to stifle a chuckle as he watched his father’s arm begin to fall almost in slow motion. “Heh… Yes sir.”

He grabbed the throttle and pushed it forward, redlining it as his father’s voice boomed inside the cockpit.

“Fight!”

The cockpit shook with a thunderous crash as Cameron drove the Squire’s armored shoulder into his opponent's shield. He could hear the metal strain to hold the impact as Cameron put his thrusters on full blast, trying to barrel through Captain Merril’s guard. He looked out through the windshield to see Merril in his own cockpit, face red from pain and pressure before the man cried out and dashed back, pulling his shield arm in as Cameron careened forward, nearly toppling over while Merril brought his Squire’s sword up in a vertical slash, attempting to bury the metal slab into the underside of Cameron’s mech.

“Shit!” Cameron cursed, bringing his own sword down to meet Merril’s. A loud clang rang out, followed by a painful vibration that rattled his body as Cameron strafed to the left, raising his sword high and cutting down in a diagonal arc that clipped Merril’s mech at the shoulder joint. Sparks flew as the blade carved into electronics running through the joint, but Cameron couldn’t celebrate yet. He could tell by the way his sword had impacted, that Merril had turned away at the last second, turning a likely dismemberment into nothing but a slight inconvenience.

The pair sparred for a few moments, exchanging parries and punishes in equal measure, neither on able to land a critical blow, before they broke apart, with Cameron rapidly dashing back to create some space while he tried to come up with a new approach.

“Good way to start it off kid, keep up the pressure.” Logan’s voice crackled in the headset, reminding Cameron that he wasn’t completely alone in this fight.

“I’m trying to,” Cameron said, moving forward slowly, “But he’s fast, and he’s got an answer for all my attacks.”

“Well, there’s a reason he’s a Captain, kid. He’s not just going to stand there and let you beat on him. Dance with him till you get an opening. When you find one, exploit the hell out of it. You can do this.”

“Roger that.” Cameron said, his voice slowly dissolving into a whisper as he squared up with Merril once more. The two circled each other, their shields up and swords at the ready as the thunderous foot falls of their mechs kicked up dirt and debris, each waiting for the other to strike. Cameron jumped first, dropping the squire low and swinging its shield arm out to bash the legs of Merril’s squire. Merril reacted, swinging his own shield to block as he took a step back, planting the Squire as he braced for impact.

Exactly as Cameron had planned.

He waited until Merril’s swing had reached the apex of its arc, before using his momentum to fall forward, lunging out with his sword, and piercing the Squire’s midsection. There was a high-pitched squeal as Merril’s Squrie shuddered and jerked, before dropping to a knee. Cameron rolled, reaching his feet quickly, standing behind Merril’s Squire raising a sword to strike the cockpit. Then he heard Logan’s voice yelling in his headset.

“Kid, watch O-” Cameron didn’t hear the rest. He was too busy being tossed around the cockpit, reeling from a shield bash that hit his right side hard, sending him fly before impacting the ground with a loud crash.

“W-What the hell…” Cameron growled out through gritted teeth as he howled in pain. His head felt foggy and heavy, a not forming on the back where it had hit the ceiling when he’d taken the fall. But that wasn’t the worst part. The worst part, was when he stood back up and found out where the blow came from.

Standing thirty meters away, Sergeant Kurz had fully engaged his Squire, the unit leaning down and helping Captain Merril to his feet. Merril’s Squire was heavily damaged, with sparks flying off the chassis and midsection, stray wiring and scrap metal peeking out from inside the hole Cameron had stabbed into it, but overall it was still functional, as was its pilot, who was staring death at Cameron through a cracked windshield. Kurz mimicked the look of his superior, as both men piloted their mechs towards Cameron.

“Two on one doesn’t exactly seem fair.” Cameron said, opening the speaker on the outside of his Squire to amplify his voice.

There was a pause before Cameron could hear the feedback coming from Kurz’s Squire before the man replied. “Since when has war been fair Prince Pellyn? We’re simply taking advantage of the situation. I promise not to drag out turning that Squire in a slag heap though. That’d just be cruel.” The radio cut out with the sound of Kurz’s laughter echoing in Cameron’s mind.

“Logan… Any advice here?” Cameron called into the headset, fear welling up in his voice as the two mechs dashed at him, blades drawn. He was met with silence for the briefest of moments as he activated the boosters on his Squire, feeling the cockpit shake as his speed increased exponentially, backpedaling down the field as Kruz and Merril engaged in a tandem barrage of slashes and stabs.

Cameron weaved in between the blows, dodging the most of them with a frenzied grace, but the volume of strikes was too much, and pieces of the Squire were sheared off in quick succession. The alarm blared inside the cockpit and Cameron had to fight to remain conscious as his head bounced against the bulkhead for the third time. Blood trailed down his nostrils, and it took him a minute to focus through his double vision before he grabbed the headset from where it had been flung in the last impact, quickly putting it on his head as he screamed into the microphone like his life depended on it.

“Fuck! Logan! Help me!”

---

Logan was currently being held by a struggling Augustus and Darwin as he was reaching to strangle a cowering Lendrick.

“Two on one?! That’s how it’s going to be you fucking snake?!” He yelled, taking another few steps toward the dignitary, despite Augustus and Darwin’s best efforts.

“Logan calm down!” The king said, his face red from exertion and strain. “What’s done is done! There’s no changing it now. We all knew the risk and so did Cameron! We both know this was allowed!”

Logan growled in anger and pushed both men off of him like they were mere children, watching as they fell into a heap and looking at Augustus with fury in his eyes. “Fuck that.” He spat, saying the words as if they were a curse. He then pointed a finger at Lendrick, who was struggling to keep an impassive face, his body shaking from fear and anger, eyes wide and skin tone going pale.

“What do you want from me mercenary?” Lendrick yelled out, trying to put on a brave front.

Logan shook his head, his teeth showing as spit flew from his lips, growling in response, “I’m warning you now. If he dies, so do you.”

“Logan you can’t do that and you know it.” Augustus said, trying to catch his breath and looking between Lendrick and Logan, “That’s not part of the assessment.”

“Do I look like I care Augustus?!” Logan shouted back, a look of shame on his face as he gave Augustus a hard look, walking past him to where the headset lay, whispering in his ear as he passed, “Maybe stop being a king for a moment and be a fucking parent.”

Logan left a speechless Augustus, quickly walking to grab the headset to focus on the assessment once again. He pulled it on his head and pulled the mic to his lips, watching intently as Cameron attempted to dodge the incoming blows from the two veterans.

“Kid! I’m here, you okay?”

---

“Does it look like I’m fucking okay?!” Cameron yelled into the headset, his voice cracking from the strain, “I need some help before these guys turn me into a damn pincushion!”

He dashed down the field trying to create space where he could, with Kurz and Merril in hot pursuit. The other two squires had broken apart and flanked him on either side, trying to overwhelm him with a series of rapid slashes. He worked the twin sticks controlling the Squire’s arms with an adrenaline fueled efficiency, parrying and dodging to the best of his abilities, avoiding a majority of his opponents attacks.

“Alright Kid, listen to me,” Logan finally replied, his voice taking on a cold edge, “We’re not going to screw around here. You’re not fighting to win anymore. You’re fighting to kill. This is about survival and by the stars, I’m going to make sure you survive.”

“Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it!” Cameron yelled back, dashing backward to avoid a powerful chop on his left side from Merril’s squire. He watched as the Captain’s heavy blade hit the ground hard, cracking the earth.

“You need to isolate and attack, kid. If you can get it down to a one on one, you’ll be fine. The squire is more nimble and smaller than you think. Let them get cocky and overextend, then counter and finish them. Got it?”

“Understood…” Cameron said, his voice trailing off, as he watched Merril struggle for a fraction of a second to extract his blade from the ground. An idea formed in the back of his mind, he just needed an opening to execute, and since they weren’t going to give him one so easily, he’d have to make his own.

“Goddammit…” He said to himself, before taking a deep breath, staring down his opponents. With a deep exhale and a fortification of resolve, he gripped the throttle, slamming forward as he charged the other Squires.

Cameron barreled forward, sword glinting in the sunlight as he swung it in a wide arc. Merril and Kurz broke apart, opening a hole for Cameron to dash through, before they swung around to engage him. Cameron was already a head of the curve, spinning on a dime and leveling his shield into Kurz’s head unit, sending him sprawling as the mech ran directly into it, rebounding off the thick metal slab. He spun back around, engaging Merril in one-on-one combat while he had the chance. He rushed the Captain down, swinging and stabbing in rapid succession before dashing horizontally, smothering Merril with an oppressive flurry of strikes.

Cameron kept up the pressure, even as he heard Kurz beginning to get to his feet. He could see Merril’s face through the windshield, red and glistening with sweat, teeth bared in defiance and anger as he retaliated, meeting Cameron’s sword swings with swings of his own. Cameron’s plan was working, he just needed the right moment. He reduced the tempo of his strikes, letting control of melee shift to Merril who took full advantage of the reprieve, rallying and laying into Cameron’s sword and shield.

“Nearly there.” He said, grinding his teeth as he blocked another series of strikes.

And then he saw his chance. He saw Merril raise his sword high, before hammering down, attempting to break Cameron’s guard with one massive swing. It would be a glorious way to end the assessment as well as the prince’s life.

Unfortunately, that blow hit nothing but air.

Cameron waited till the absolute last second, before he engaged his Squire’s boosters to maximum output, dashing to the side as Merril buried his sword deep in the dirt. This was the moment Cameron had been waiting for, and he was going to take full advantage.

Before the Captain could react, and with a scream of rage, Cameron stabbed forward, directly into Merril’s cockpit. He saw the windshield splattered with the blood of a frightened man, feeling the resistance of the metal give way, replaced by the squishy soft tissue and organs of the human body. With a mighty pull, Cameron yanked the sword out, with Merril’s squire falling forward face down into the dirt.

Cameron couldn’t celebrate yet, however. He could hear the boosters firing behind him, turning to see Kurz dashing forward, murder in his eyes, and mouth opened wide in a silent scream, throwing caution to the wind as the Sergeant attempted to avenge his companion.

Cameron thought quickly, hitting a switch to have his Squire drop its shield before reaching out and gripping the late Captain’s sword. Cameron gave it a pull, relieved to see it have some give to it, likely the result of Merril trying to pull it out before Cameron had killed him. With another firm yank, he pulled the giant slab of steel from the ground, dual wielding two blades now, before he turned to face Kurz one last time.

“Come on!” Cameron yelled into the ether as he dashed forward, meeting Kurz in the middle and engaging him with a newfound vigor. With every strike Kurz attempted, Cameron made four, easily overwhelming the Sergeant. The loud clangs of clashing metal gave way to hollow shrieks as the blades bit into Kurz’s mech. His arms were the first to go, both of them being cut off at the shoulder joints. Then Cameron attacked the legs and waist, slicing into the hollow metal shell and cutting off the Sergeant’s options to escape, literally. In a flash, Cameron was standing over a Squire half its original size, looking down at Kurz through the windshield.

He could see the terror in the man’s face, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he reached to turn on his outer speaker.

“I yield Prince Pellyn!” Kurz said, desperation and pain prominent in his voice. “Do you hear me? I ye-”

He was cut off. Cameron didn’t want to hear anything the man had to say, settling instead for burying both swords through the top of Kurz’s mech, driving through the head unit and into the cockpit, more so crushing the man, turning him into a fleshy, red paste, than cutting him.

And then everything went quiet. It was an eerie silence, deafening almost. The only thing Cameron could hear was his own rapid heartbeats and shallow breathing. Compared to the sounds of battle and death before, this was almost too much for Cameron to handle right now, feeling slightly claustrophobic now in the confined space of the cockpit. Slowly, he regained his composure, catching his breath and finding his center, searching for a calm in the chaos that had just transpired.

He finally turned, looking off to the sidelines to see four men standing there, each with varying looks on their faces. His father’s mouth was hanging wide open, unblinking and in shock. Darwin shared a majority of the King’s shock, but his was more out of fear than astonishment. Logan, on the other hand stood proud and tall, hands in his pockets, his body shaking softly, likely from laughter judging by the smirk that was on his face. And then Cameron turned to look at Lendrick, seeing nothing but pure hatred in his eyes. He was practically foaming at the mouth, fists clenched tight and face a scarlet red.

Cameron couldn’t help himself, feeling a smile similar to Logan’s form on his face as he flicked the switch to broadcast his voice to the outside world, speaking directly to the dignitary as he started to lose consciousness.

“So what do you think Lendrick? Did I pass?”

When Cameron’s eyes opened once more, he was no longer inside the squire, but laying in a soft, warm bed, bundled up tightly, and unable to move. He blinked slowly, eyes focusing on the intricately carved ceiling letting him know he was back at the palace, but could not gather specifics on which particular room, when he realized he couldn’t move his head. He strained, wriggling underneath the blankets, when the sound of a creaking floorboard stopped him immediately. He waited and listened, hearing the creaking again, followed by the sound of a body shifting in a chair, standing up.

Then there was a soft knock at the door, the gentle taps echoing in the silent room, and Cameron could hear footsteps from whoever was in the room with him walking towards the door and opening it.

“How is he?” Marcus’s voice came out clearly even with his hushed tone.

“He’s got a concussion, six cracked ribs, and a punctured lung. What the fuck do you think?” Logan respond, matching the servant’s volume.

“That bad huh?” Marcus asked, his whispered tone growing louder as he stepped inside. Cameron closed his eyes pretending to still be out as the two men’s voices grew closer, trying to listen in.

“Yeah. That bad.” Logan said, “I could have killed Lendrick then and there. When was the last time you heard of a two on one assessment?”

“Two on one?” Marcus gasped out. “Never. The mortality rate would skyrocket.”

“Exactly,” Logan said, a growl beginning to rise in his voice, “Doesn’t it seem a little weird that the only time we’d ever hear about that, is a foreign dignitaries assessment of your soon-to-be Seneschal?”

“I… That…,” Marcus stuttered, trying to grasp what Logan was implying. After a moment he sighed before giving a reply, “You’re paranoid my friend. You’ve spent too much time in the corrupt chaos of free-space.”

“Have I?” Logan shot back. “Or have you spent too much time assuming your neighbors are your allies? Let’s be real here, the only reason Makir and Amreith haven’t invaded is because the last time one of them did, Augustus was so efficient and brutal he broke their offenses within the first week. Ever since then, they’ve been quiet and friendly to our faces, but don’t think for a single second they’ve forgotten that embarrassment.”

There was a long silence, and Cameron felt a sinking feeling in his stomach as he feared he’d been discovered, but his worries ceased when Markus spoke up again.

“I just…. I can’t see either of the princes’s trying anything like what you're suggesting. Especially right now with a representative from the mother planet here.”

“I wouldn’t put it past them, and neither should you. Don’t leave your fate in the hands of strangers Marcus. You know this.”

“I do Logan. I know it very well.” There was another long pause before the servant cleared his throat in an official like manner. “Erm. Well. Anyways. I was just here to check on Master Pellyn and see if you were hungry. Dinner has already been served, but I had save some for you two down in the kitchens.”

“Sounds good to me Marcus,” Logan said, “I’m starving and I doubt the kid’s gonna wake up tonight anyway. Lead the way.”

“Naturally.” Marcus said, and Cameron could envision the bow he no doubt made, before here two pairs of footsteps receded from earshot, followed by the gentle closing of his door with a click.

Cameron let out a sigh of relief before slowly sitting up and stretching, mulling over the previous conversation in his mind. There was a painful twisting in his gut as he ran his finger tips over his injured head. Had Logan been right? Were those two really there, not to test him, but to kill him? He could hear Kurz’s words ringing in his mind, how he didn’t want to drag out turning his Squire in a slag heap. In the heat of the moment, one could assume that was just some not-so-friendly trash talk, but in retrospect…

“I can’t tell if you look cute when your deep in thought… or just confused.” A breathy feminine voice broke him from his thoughts causing him to jump. He turned slowly to see Sybil Moore the Earth representative standing in the archway, leaning against the wall, with a hand on her hip.

Cameron, surprised at her presence, recovered quickly, answering her proclamation after a few seconds with a cheeky grin, “Why not both? I hear that adorable stupidity is in right now.”

She smiled as her eyes met his and giggled, before crossing the threshold and sitting at the foot of his bed. She took a moment, quietly appraising his form, before she spoke again, “How are you feeling? I heard things got a little rough out there.”

Cameron shrugged, still smiling despite the throbbing ache in his temples, “I’ve been better. I don’t think my body appreciated bouncing around a metal casket like a rag-doll, but I’ll survive.”

“A casket huh?” She asked, her lips curving into a knowing smirk. “Well isn’t that such… appropriate phrasing.”

“How do you mean?” Cameron asked, cocking an eyebrow in confusion.

“I mean,” she continued, “That from what I heard, those two officers had more of their bodies fused to the inside of their Squire’s electronics than what could be recovered. They’re sending them back to Amreith in two jars, not coffins.”

“Oh… you heard about that huh?” Cameron said, a feeling of disgust welling up inside of him, causing a sour taste to rise up in the back of his throat. He smacked his lips, trying to find the right words.

“I hear everything, sweetheart.” She said, standing up and sashaying slowly past Cameron to the far corner of the room where a liquor cart stood. She pulled out a random brown spirit sloshing around in a crystal bottle and opened the stopper. With an appraising sniff and approving nod, she poured herself a glass, looking over her shoulder as she spoke.

“The only thing I can’t figure out is why everyone’s being so weird about it. Care to illuminate the situation for me?”

Cameron chewed at his lip, trying to think of an excuse. She was different from the usual representatives that got sent their way. She seemed to read a situation like a book, seeing through all the political bullshit that seem to tie down all noble proceedings. Eventually he gave in, settling for what was probably the truth.

“I mean… Why else? They didn’t want the family to get sanctioned.”

Her inquisitive gaze slowly morphed into a raised eyebrow of confusion as she scoffed, “Sanctioned?” She asked, almost as if she was unsure she heard him properly.

He nodded slowly, not quite clear on where the loss in translation was. “Yeah? You know… Earth steps in, strips the ruling family of power and takes them back to be tried by committee?”

Her eyebrow rose higher as she let him finish his train of thought, answering his question with one of her own. “And… you thought you were going to get sanctioned… for killing two men in a combatives trial?”

“Well, erm.. yes?”

Cameron saw the outburst unfold in slow motion. First Sybil’s mouth trembled slightly, her lips quivering up and down as if trying to force down a wide grin. Then she giggled, then chuckled. Eventually she had to set her drink down and clutch her stomach as a fit of laughter overtook her. He didn’t know whether to be embarrassed or appalled. Still, he kept quiet, letting her get it all out. Eventually, she stopped and stood up straight, catching her breath, and wiped a tear from her eye.

“Ah honey, I haven’t laughed like that in a long time.” She grabbed her drink and tilted it back, draining it of its contents before shaking her head. “There’s no court on earth that would grant a sanction for some backwater system like this, for something as benign as that.”

“Oh…” Cameron said, trying to wrap his head around the situation. “That’s a relief then. Did you say backwater?”

She waved him off as she poured herself another drink. “Relax, Lendrick is a big boy. If he can’t handle the blowback from a mess he made, he’s not cut out for politics.”

Cameron opened his mouth to speak, trying to shine a light on the details of the situation, but Sybil cut him off, holding up a hand to silence him, “There’s no need for an explanation. From what I understand, it was self defense.”

“Y-Yeah,” Cameron mumbled, his mind racing with fresh memories of death and destruction. “I suppose so.”

There was a long silence, with Cameron averting his gaze, staring at the fibers of the thick blanket that he was swaddled in. After a moment, there was a warm sensation on his shoulder, causing him to look up and see Sybil’s hand resting there, her smile dropping slightly, and eyes radiating sympathy before she spoke up in a soft, calming tone.

“Hey, don’t dwell on the past. It’s not your fault. They knew the risk of what they were doing. Don’t feel sympathy for those that wouldn’t share the sentiment if the roles were reversed. Okay?”

Cameron swallowed slowly, before giving a nod and forcing a smile. “Yeah, I understand. Thank you.”

“No problem,” She said, her smile returning to its previous mischievous grin. “I can’t be taking a crybaby as a date to the coronation ball now can I?”

Cameron blinked, then looked at her, then blinked again. “I’m sorry, you mind running that by me one more time? Did you say date?”

She giggled again, a sound Cameron was finding more pleasing to the ear with every iteration

“Well, it is tradition, after all. The newly appointed Seneschal needs a piece of high-ranking arm candy during the ball, or so the tradition states. Besides, I’m not really a fan of the thought of having the pick of the two kiss-assess old enough to be my father rubbing up on me all evening. So I suppose you’ll do.” She finished with a wink and a grin that made Cameron’s bandaged face blush.

“Well if you can find in your heart to grant me such a charity,” He said sarcastically, rolling his eyes, and as he look at her, he suddenly forgot all about his aching. “Then I suppose, I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

She nodded, reaching up to pat his face gently. “You definitely will, big guy. Be sure not to disappoint me, yeah?”

With that, she turned, making her way toward the door. Just as she crossed the threshold to leave, however, she stopped, poking her head back around the corner to look at him.

“Oh, by the way… I’m glad you’re okay. And don’t worry about Lendrick. I’m sure this will all blow over.”

---

Furious was an understatement to the emotions Lendrick was feeling as he marched down the hallway to his quarters. Everything had gone wrong. Not only had the Pellyn brat survived his little ‘Assessment’, but the kingdom of Amreith had lost two experienced pilots, a group that was becoming an increasingly rare minority. In all aspects his plan had failed.

The Prince was not going to like this.

“There you are!” Darwin’s grating voice stabbed into Lendrick’s eardrums like a rusty blade, causing him to clench his teeth in frustration.

He looked up, startled, speaking to his contemporary in a sharp whisper, “What do you want Darwin? Can you not see I’m deep in thought?”

“What took you so long?” He hissed as Lendrick walked past him dismissively. “I had to keep delaying the meeting because of you.”

“Because of me?” Lendrick shot back, balling his hand into a fist. “Someone had to brief that royal bitch Miranda as to what happened, and I refuse to let it be one of the other oafs out there. I needed to save what little face I had left after that idiotic display of Kurz and Merril.”

“My apologies Lendrick,” Darwin said solemnly. “I understand how saddened you must be by their loss.”

“I could care less about their loss!” Lendrick shot back, eyes burning with fury. “If the boy hadn’t killed them I’d have made sure their days were numbered after such an embarrassing display.” He quieted somewhat as he watched Darwin turn the lock, sealing them off from the outside world. The man looked sheepish, like he was unsure how to respond to Lendrick’s callous rhetoric. Eventually, the oaf managed to form a response.

“Well, what do we do now?” Darwin asked, exasperating Lendrick even further.

“What do you mean ‘what do we do?’” Lendrick asked, “Call the task force to order. The Prince’s require an explanation.”

Inside a suite at the far end of the royal palace, six men were plotting the murder of a queen and the invasion of a world. Lazarus Lendrick and Wervil Darwin were the only flesh and blood members of the cadre, standing in front of the remaining four figures, their features outlined in a dull white as they flickered in and out of existence. The quartet mirrored each other as they positioned themselves across from the two diplomats. In the middle, two men sat in similar ornate chairs, the other two, subservient to the ones in the middle, took their places behind them, each standing behind the outer shoulder of their chosen leader.

“You’re late, Lendrick.” The man on center left spoke first, his voice a deep thundering growl. It was easy to tell he came from money and prestige. He was a large man, broad shouldered and fit. He was also massive, as evidenced by the way the throne underneath him looked almost toy-like as it held his weight. His skin was dark, and the parts of it that showed underneath an ornate flowing robe were wrapped tightly around a mass of muscle. His slanted eyes and shaggy hair styled in a comb-over shared the same bone white color and when he spoke, the glint of gold plated canines imparted a sinister warning of danger and strength.

Lendrick didn’t answer right away. Instead, he dropped to a knee and bowed his head, averting his gaze, as he dared not look upon the white-haired behemoth. When he finally opened his mouth to speak, his usual snotty and prideful tone was gone, replaced by a cautious, whispered reverence.

“My apologies, Prince Caustos. My presence was requested for a debriefing. There were… complications during the combat assessment.” Lendrick said, feeling a hole being burned into the top of his head where he knew the prince was glaring intently. Seprith didn’t like excuses. It was a fact Lendrick knew all too well. Excuses were the reason for his sudden ascension to Ambassador after his predecessor had given one too many. His torture had been hard to watch. It became even harder when the prince ordered him to join in.

“What exactly do you mean by complications?” A second voice chimed in. The growling timbre of the voice, and the wheeze cough of a lifelong smoker told Lendrick the owner without having to look up. He did anyway, meeting the gaze of General Aylim. Lendrick fought to keep his hands from balling into fists as he stared into the glassy gray eyes of a man he both respected, and despised.

“Captain Merril and Sergeant Kurz are dead. The Pellyn boy was more formidable than expected. They got overconfident, and he dispatched them with extreme prejudice.” He said, causing a silence to fall over the room.

“And the boy?” General Aylim asked, “What of his status?”

“Alive and well… unfortunately,” Lendrick said gravely.

“I see…” Aylim said slowly, drawing out the words. “Just so we’re clear, the plan that you suggested not only failed in bringing forth the death of a prince that has never seen true combat before, but in fact resulted in the deaths of two of our most decorated veteran pilots?”

Lendrick swallowed slowly and nodded, thinking of an acceptable response. “Yes General, an unfortunate circumstance due to poor execution of all involved parties.

“Don’t shift the blame you poor excuse for a man,” Aylim growled out causing Lendrick to flinch. “There were a litany of other ways to be rid of the Seneschal that wouldn’t have cost the lives of two good soldiers. Not only are you a coward, but an idiot for not dispatching him yourself.”

“Need I remind you, general,” Lendrick began, speaking through gritted teeth, trying and failing to keep his anger in check, “That myself and Darwin were supposed to be playing the roles of supportive and friendly dignitaries? I can’t exactly do that, if I’m not around to build a rapport with the target.”

“Excuses.” Aylim shot back, his image flickering further as he walked around Prince Caustos to stand, towering over a still kneeling Lendrick. He was almost as massive as Seprith was, nearly two meters tall and built bulky like the Squire units he commanded. His skin was a blackish gray mass of muscle and scar tissue, which he displayed proudly through his sleeveless tactical uniform. Iron divots dotted the length of his arms, marking him as a threaded pilot, a fact that made Lendrick hate the man even more. Two threaded pilots called the planet of Amreith home, and they were both staring daggers into his very soul.

“It’s not an excuse, General,” Lendrick said, nearly spitting out the man’s rank. “It is just, what had occurred.”

“Of course it’s an excuse Lendrick…” Aylim retorted, bringing a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose as he sighed, the sound crackling out over the speakers of the Frame Caster he was projecting through. “But I don’t blame you, not fully anyway. I blame myself. We should have never let a civilian take on this responsibility. It’s in your very nature to fail.”

Lendrick felt his anger boiling over, his body tightening with fury underneath his flabby frame as he stepped forward, looking up at the general and meeting his gaze as an equal. “Listen here you glorified cannon fodder, I will not be talked to like -“

“Enough” The prince’s voice boomed out like crackling thunder, and Lendrick could swear he felt a slight tremble coming from the ground, though that could have been an involuntary response from his own body. Both he and Aylim stopped and turned to face their ruler, their heads bowing in respectful silence as he spoke again.

“You dare to embarrass me with such child-like squabbling in front of our allies?” He asked, nodding his head toward the second pair of virtual companions. A young, pale-skinned man with dark purple bangs that hung down in front of his face was smirking as he watched the display. He wore a simple gray toga, his frail frame on full display as he watched on in amusement from a throne similar to Seprith’s. The second man behind him was similar in appearance to the first, matching the young man in facial structure, skin tone, and hair color. The only difference being where the young man was alarmingly frail in frame, the man behind him possessed a build of aged muscle, a slight paunch forming underneath his own military uniform. Prince Timas Lo’Dain and his uncle, General Gramma were watching the scene unfold with a keen, amused interest.

“Don’t mind us,” Timas said, his voice a nasally, breathy tone, barely audible when compared to the commanding presence Seprith exuded. “This is your show after all, cousin. Ma’Kir is just bankrolling the operation. Besides… I have always been a sucker for melodrama.”

Seprith sucked his teeth before nodding and turning his attention back to his men. “Aylim, get back behind the throne and know your place.”

“Yes my prince,” Aylim responded immediately in a hushed tone, walking back to his position behind the throne in an instant, before Caustos turned his gaze towards Lendrick.

“You will give your report and nothing more, Lendrick. Speak out of turn to myself of the General again, and I will flay you alive and use the skin to craft a new battle standard. Am… I… Understood?” He enunciated the last three words slowly for emphasis and Lendrick felt his knees weaken and buckle with every syllable.

“Y-Yes my lord. Understood. My report begins with the introduction of Prince Cameron, and a new variable in the operation… Logan Rake.”

Lendrick ran through his report quickly and succinctly, noting the pair of Logan and Cameron, as well as their adventures the last few weeks. He broke down the combat assessment request and the assessment itself, as well as the aftermath. When he had finally finished, both Aylim and Caustos looked slightly more appeased than they had originally been.

“Rakes planet side then?” Aylim asked, his gaze shifting slowly towards Prince Caustos, before going back to Lendrick. “That certainly puts a different perspective on things. He was formidable back during the days as a Squire pilot. I can only imagine the trouble he’d bring for us in an actual A.R.M.S. unit.”

“Indeed,” Caustos acknowledged with a nod. “Though I haven’t seen him in action myself, I heard stories of the exploits of a certain Ketrisite Captain some years past. I can only assume this was him. We must be cautious in how we proceed. Subterfuge and subtlety will get us further than brute force. But keep in mind, the port of Ketris is a veritable gold mine in both physical wealth and trade. I want it, and I grow impatient. I trust you will not fail me in this endeavor again to destabilize the Pellyn family Lendrick. Your life depends on it.”

Lendrick could only not rapidly, looking for an ounce of confidence that had long left him. “Y-Yes my lord. I will endeavor to accomplish this goal on behalf of you as well as the planet Amreith. I will not fail you again.”

“See that you don’t.”

---

Logan was well into his second glass of Makavian wine when he felt a sudden presence behind him. Acting off of reflex, he jumped up from his place in a plush lounge chair and turned, hand reaching behind his back where he kept a small blade, ready to face his would be attacker. Instead, he was met with the figure of Cameron, eyes wide and hands shooting straight into the air.

“Whoa! Hey it’s just me!” He said, his voice full of surprise and shock at Logan’s quick movement.

Logan sighed, removing his hand away from the handle of his blade, before standing up straight, looking at the prince. “You nearly gave me a heart attack kid. What the hell are you doing here?”

Cameron hands fell to his side as his heart rate settled. He chewed at his lip and looked around. The two of them were in the royal study. The walls were lined stacks of books and data tablets filling the air with a smell of parchment and dust. Chairs of various sizes and comfort were placed around the room with stylish strategy with alcohol carts were within arms reach wherever you sat. This wasn’t a room he often visited, but hearing the Logan was in here caused him to beeline it to meet with the man. Finally, all he could manage was a simple shrug, replying honestly.

“I just… I needed to come tell you thank you… you saved my life.”

Logan shook his head, a smile teasing the corners of his mouth. “No kid, you saved your life. I just helped you figure out how.

“Well… still,” Cameron said, taking a seat across from him, “I’m grateful. I know that without you in my ear I wouldn’t have made it out.”

“Nah. Give yourself some credit. You’re a fighter kid. You come by it honest.”

Cameron couldn’t help but match Logan’s grin, giving a slight nod. “Thanks Logan. For everything.”

“You don’t have to thank me kid, just make sure I get paid on time.” Logan said nonchalantly, giving a shrug. In actuality it warmed the old soldier's heart to hear Cameron’s gratitude, but he wasn’t about to give that away. He had an image to maintain.

There was silence for a while as both men shifted in their seats. Finally, Logan looked back up at Cameron, cracking a smile.

“…What?” The prince said, raising an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” Logan said, shaking his head, “I just feel like being charitable since you nearly died is all.”

“Oh?” Cameron said, “And what, pray tell are you going to bequeath your humble servant?”

“Watch it kid,” Logan shot back, his voice coming out as a growl, though his smirk still held to keep the air of levity. “Just cause your injured, don’t think for a second I won’t hesitate to drag your ass back out to run up that mesa again.”

“I feel at some point this is just hazing.” Cameron said, feigning offence.

“Of course not!” Logan said, mimicking Cameron’s tone, clutching at imaginary pearls, “It’s not hazing, its training!”

They both shared at hearty laugh at that, with Logan taking a few moments to collect himself before he spoke again. “What do you think about taking it easy today and tomorrow? We’ll pick it back up after the coronation ball.”

“You mean to tell me I can get hammered and not have to worry about a five AM hangover? Sounds like a good deal to me.”

Logan laughed again at the kids comment, before draining the rest of his whiskey, and pouring two more glasses, handing one to Cameron, “Let’s not waste any more time then.”

To say that the coronation ball was opulent would be the understatement of the century. Cameron wasn’t even inside the ball room yet, still about a hundred meters from the entrance as he watched groups of people flock inside through the large alabaster doors which were swung wide open to allow for the influx of party goers. He sighed and straightened his vest. Try as she might, the last thing he was going to let his sister do was convince him to get into the litany of frills and lace that made up the standard noble attire. After a couple hours of arguing back and forth, she finally relented, allowing him to settle for a black long sleeved dress shirt, sapphire blue vest, and matching blue slacks. He had thrown her a bone as well by tying back his long black hair into a manageable ponytail. But now, as he stood outside the crowded and bustling chamber, he couldn’t manage to get his feet to move. He sighed, looking down into a shining silver vase as he checked his stubble and teeth in its reflection for the fifth time that evening.

“Ooh that’s attractive.” The familiar breathy giggle of Sybil Moore broke Cameron from his inspection as he whirled around to face her.

“Hey I don’t judge yo-,” he stopped mid sentence as his eyes fell on Sybil and her attire. From tip to toe she was stunning. Her shoulder length platinum-blonde hair was styled in ringlets, further accentuating its usual curly manner. Her green eyes shined under a dark layer of expertly applied smoky eye shadow which complimented the dark red tinge of her lips. Her dress was nothing short of breathtaking. Simple yet elegant, it was a black, body hugging number made of silk that went all the way to the floor. A slit was opened on the right side, giving her the freedom to show her tanned and toned legs as well as the thigh high strings that wrapped around them, holding her black high heels in place.

Cameron thought his jaw might go through the floor. He had to work to close it, his eyes never leaving her figure. There was only one way he could adequately articulate his feelings on this situation.

“Holy shit…” He said in a breathless whisper.

She rolled her eyes and giggled again, striding over and patting him on the cheek as she spoke. “Careful big guy, stare too hard and you may break something.”

“Yeah, we- well I… I mean I won’t break… You’re very pretty” Cameron was practically tripping over himself as he tried to form a coherent sentence. Soon he felt his face heat up as he became distinctly aware that Sybil’s giggle of amusement wasn’t the only one to be heard in the crowd. He cut his eyes and saw a few minor nobles and even a servant or two smirking at his expense. Sybil didn’t seem to mind, staying focused on him. She snapped her fingers in his face, drawing his attention back to her.

“Don’t worry about them. For right now I just want you to focus on me.”

“Oh I’ll try my best to stay on task.” He said sarcastically, finding his humor again as his shock faded.

“Good. I’d hate to have gotten all dolled up just to be ignored because of a few snickers. ” She said with a wink, motioning for him to take the lead as they began to walk towards the ballroom. Cameron didn’t even realize she had looped her arm through his until they had passed under the archway. He wasn’t going to complain though. If anything, it made him even more confident to have a catch like her hanging off his arm as they strolled through a maze of guests.

The party was in full swing by the time they made their way through the crowd of people and found their seats next to the triplets. They welcomed Cameron with warmth, after they finished staring at his date.

“Dude… How?” Dean asked him in a whisper, once his brothers went back to discussing the politics of court. Cameron could only chuckle in amusement and shrug as if to say ‘Your guess is as good as mine’

From his place at the royal table, Cameron got a full view of the elegance on display. Dark mahogany tables were arranged in a horseshoe like pattern, facing the throne. In the open center, a crystal chandelier was purposefully shined with different colored lights, casting a kaleidoscopic rainbow down onto the currently empty dance floor. Soft music tickled Cameron’s ears, the result of the string quartet filling the air with soulful melodies. Servants glided through the mass of guests carrying trays of alcohol and food. The spectacle of such an elegant machine was surely a sight to behold. As was the way it all came to a stop when the final three guests entered.

Trumpeted fanfare quieted all conversation, causing all eyes to turn to the entrance, where Marcus stepped forward, and with a dignified yell, introduced the trio, “Announcing the arrival or the King Augustus Pellyn, Guest of Honor, Logan Rake, and Successor to the throne, Lady Miranda Pellyn!”

Logan and the king entered first side by side. Logan was wearing what seemed to be his old guard uniform, a pair of black slacks underneath a wool sapphire coat adorned with numerous medals of battles long past. Next to him, Cameron’s father strolled inside, his kingly robes trailing far behind him as the jewelry adorning his person glistened in the light. They walked confidently, neither breaking their stride or looking anywhere other than forward. Decades of tradition and decorum had trained them well. They made their way to the center of the room where they separated. They each walked the perimeter of the dance floor, coming to a stop just in front of the throne where they kept space enough apart for the last guest.

Miranda entered the ballroom with the same quiet elegance she always carried herself with. She practically glided across the floor, clad in a dignified silver gown. Her hair was straightened and pushed behind her ears. Her pale face and blue eyes looked upon the crowd of people as she walked. Her people. Cameron could see in their faces how they viewed her. The respect they held for her. The love. The hope for a bright future. He felt emotion well in his chest as he watched her. Pride in his sister. She was in her element and she played her role perfectly.

Miranda slowed as she approached Logan and the King. They parted a little more, slipping a hand through the crooks of each of her arms as they escorted her up the alabaster steps. In one smooth motion, they spun her around, where she took her seat upon the throne. Then, in a move that was uncharacteristically informal for him, Cameron watched as his father kissed his sister on the forehead before he and Logan faded into the background, leaving Miranda staring out across a sea of her subjects. She offered a sweet smile before clearing her throat, ready to address the nation for the first time.

“It may be a little premature, seeing as the coronation tomorrow, but as your future queen, I’m ordering you to drain your glasses, and get this party started in earnest.”

Sybil had already had Cameron by the arm, dragging him to the dance floor before he could even hope to protest.

---

Cameron couldn’t remember the last time he felt nervous with a woman, but dancing with Sybil brought back those butterflies in his stomach he thought were long gone. The pair had been dancing uninterrupted for the past half hour, gliding through the ballroom without a care in the world. He smiled as he felt her lean into him with every passing moment, culminating into a slow swaying waltz to the sound of a soft romantic melody.

“I got to give credit where it’s due,” Sybil whispered conspiratorially in his ear, her lips teasing his earlobe with every syllable. “You backwater people sure know how to throw a party.”

“We’ve managed to master the art of drunken revelry over the years, that’s for sure.” Cameron responded with a giggle. He pulled back to look at her, gazing into those beautiful emerald eyes that seemed to draw him in deeper with every second he spent gazing on them. He leaned in slowly, feeling the butterflies in his stomach burst into a frenzy as he realized she was doing the same. He closed his eyes anticipating the moment their lips would meet… He was answered not with a kiss, but a sharp clearing of the throat coming behind him.

He opened his eyes, feeling a familiar twitch as he sighed and turned. Standing there before him was the human embodiment of a weasel, as Wervil Darwin met his gaze, a cheeky grin creeping across his thin lips.

“Good evening, Prince Pellyn,” He begin, speaking in a dignified tone while going into a low sweeping bow, “And to you as well Ambassador Moore. Might I say you look a vision.”

“Why thank Wervil,” Sybil said, giving a nod in response. “You look rather… Dignified yourself.” She wave a hand in his direction, motioning towards his ornate purple robe, draped in multicolored silks and held down by a litany of loose jewels.

“You flatter me, my dear,” Darwin guffawed with a wheezy high pitched chuckle. “To hear such kind words, leave such sweet lips does good to an old man’s heart.”

Cameron felt the butterflies in his stomach melt into a bubbling bowl of irritability as he greeted them with what could only be described as barely concealed hostility.

“You have… amazing timing, Darwin,” Cameron said through clenched teeth.

Darwin blinked, looking between Cameron and Sybil, before his cheeks turned a soft shade of pink. “O-Oh my, I can see I’ve interrupted a rather… intimate moment,” He said, finishing with a forced cough.

“Yes, you have,” Cameron growled. “Now what do you want?”

Darwin sputtered for a moment, before finding his reason. “Yes, well… I was hoping to speak to you, your lordship. Privately if you’d grace me so.”

Cameron rolled his eyes, watching the man bow again, before turning to Sybil with an apologetic look on his face.

“Can you excuse me for just a moment?”

She pouted for a moment, before flashing him a grin and a wink. “I get it, go handle your business, just don’t make me wait too long yeah?” She asked, trailing a finger down his chest, before taking her leave, leaving the two men standing in an awkward silence.

“So…” Cameron said, looking at the diplomat with a raised eyebrow. “What’s up?”

Darwin gestured for Cameron to follow as he lead them off the dance floor, ending up at a corner by the refreshments table. It was then he turned and opened his mouth to speak, beginning with a heavy sigh.

“I just wanted to see how you were doing after your… ordeal, a few days ago.” He said, looking at Cameron sympathetically.

Cameron blinked, a look of surprise flashing across his face. This was the first time he’d said more than two words to the man, as Darwin was usually riding along Lendrick’s coattails. To hear the man was concerned about his safety came as a shock, which he voiced as he stuttered out his response.

“Oh.. erm, thanks for your concern. Yeah, I’m doing alright I suppose. A few bruises and cracks but I think I’ll be okay.” He finished, laughing nervously as he did so.

“I’m glad,” Darwin said, his smile growing slightly more wolfish as he lowered his voice. “For the new queen’s sake.”

Cameron’s laughter came to an immediate halt. He looked at Darwin with a raised eyebrow, his tone returning to a neutral, if slightly concerned state.

“What do you mean?” He asked, his voice dropping to the same octave as the diplomats.

Darwin shrugged, a glint in his eye giving away the underlying implication in his response, “Nothing! I’m just say that it would be worrisome for a woman in her position if her military general were to be wounded and out of action for a time.

Cameron felt his body beginning to heat up from the inside out, causing a fresh wave of pain to ripple through his chest as he looked around, eyes wide in shock like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He stepped into Darwin’s space, leaning down to get to eye level with the man.

“That’s not funny Darwin… Keep those thoughts out of your mind and off your tongue.”

Darwin shrugged, holding his hands up in slight surrender, but Cameron’s change of demeanor did nothing to help him hold his tongue.

“I agree Lord Pellyn. You and you alone are the shield protecting not just your planet, but your sisters safety as well. Should you falter in your duties, Lady Miranda would likely be killed, and if not-,”

“Shut your fucking mouth!” Cameron’s voice cut out across the ballroom, accompanied by the sounds of instruments coming to an abrupt halt, a large thud, and the audible straining of man fighting for air. He had pinned Darwin to the wall by his neck, growling and baring his teeth, completely overtaken by anger. The man flailed in the princes grip, trying to grasp the fingers clamped around his throat.

“M-Master… Pellyn!!” Darwin shouted as best as he could with the Princes massive hand squeezing his larynx, “P-Please! Let me go!”

“Let you go?!” Cameron shot back, spittle flying from his lips, “I ought to beat you to within an inch of your life for those not so subtle threats!”

“Th-They Weren’t..”

“Let me make this very clear for you Darwin,” Cameron said, leaning in close to the diplomats ear speaking in a low, yet dangerous tone, “If I even get a single iota of a thought you’d think about harming my family, I will fucking kill you.”

“What’s going on over here?” Lendrick’s throaty shout rang out directly behind Cameron. He turned back over his shoulder to see the Amreith dignitary’s face beet red, as he stood never to a very shocked Miranda, and a furious-looking Augustus. It was at this point, Cameron had realized. that all was quiet, save for Darwins inept struggling, as all eyes were on him. He closed his eyes, taking a breath trying to gather his calm.

“Well?!” Lendrick bellowed again, “Explain yourself?”

Cameron didn’t answer. Instead, he turned, tossing Darwin at the two men’s feet, sneering as he the frail man bounced off the floor.

“Ask him,” He said coldly, walking away from the scene he had inadvertantly created in his fury.

“Cameron Pellyn you will get back here this instant and explain yourself!” Augustus bellowed, causing Cameron to flinch, grinding his teeth. He turned and was getting ready to open his mouth to respond when he saw Lendrick pat the King’s shoulder, looking at Cameron rather… sympathetically.

“It’s alright your majesty.” Lendrick said, looking from him to Cameron. “I can imagine what was said, as I believe I’d heard a rather… uncensored version from Wervil all day today, and as much as I hesitate to say this, I believe your son was in the right for his emotions to flare, though perhaps not the actions he took.

Augustus’s eyes went wide as he looked from Cameron to Lendrick and back to Cameron again, struggling to think of a response, as was the prince himself. Lendrick on the other hand, took charge of the situation, approaching Cameron in front of everyone, holding up his hands and speaking loudly to be heard by all.

“Please don’t concern yourself with this my good people! Go on and have a good time, enjoy the Queen’s party! These little shindigs don’t come around every day, you know?”

Cameron looked around as Lendrick spoke, watching as peoples looks of worry and concern change into that of passive acceptance, as the band picked back up again, filling the air with melody as the partying continued. Lendrick waited another moment to make sure everything was returning to normal before approaching Cameron.

“I deeply apologize young Master Pellyn. Darwin is a bit inconsoleable on my behalf after the assessment. Please, allow me to make it up to you what are you drinking?”

Cameron raised an eyebrow, still on his guard, “A Malkavian whiskey.” He said, watching as Lendrick made a whinnying noise, flapping his lips.

“On a day like today? Why my boy, you deserve the finest spirits money can by.”

“I like the whiskey.” Cameron said with a huff. “I’m not much for the finer things anyways.”

Lendrick had a glint in his eyes as Cameron spoke. “Ah but that’s simply because you haven’t had the chance to enjoy them. I happen to have some alcohol in my quarters that would make that lovely whiskey taste like sheep’s piss.”

Cameron raised an eyebrow in confusion, looking around to make certain that the dignitary was talking to him. “Are… are you inviting me to your quarters to drink?”

Lendrick smiled and gave a nod. “If that would help smooth over tensions between us, I’d be honored if you would come.”

Cameron felt something in his stomach stir, twisting in pain, like his senses were telling him to avoid this at all costs. But then his thoughts went to his father, then his sister. How hard the former had worked to keep up good relations with the other two empires of the system, how hard the latter would have to work to keep up those appearances. If he could make a good impression now, he was sure it would make things so much easier for Miranda in the future. So with a shrug and a nod he looked at Lendrick, speaking with a genuine kindness.

“What the hell, lead the way Lendrick. Let’s have that drink.”

Lendrick smiled softly, his eyes glaring intently, like they were trying to discern the contents of his very soul. “Excellent.”

As Cameron stumbled away from Lendrick’s quarters, his vision swimming, and head filled with fog, he couldn’t help but think about what a good guy the diplomat was. The two of them had spent hours talking about life, with Cameron going on about his duty and responsibility as Lendrick gave him glass after glass of alcohol.

“Ah… G-Good Whizz key…” He murmured, leaning against the wall, clutching it tightly to have it guide him back to his room. He wasn’t sure where in the palace he was, but he had confidence in his abilities. Especially right now. Hell, even Lendrick had told him how amazing he was, at least on the battlefield. It was just one of the many compliments the man had paid him throughout the evening.

He stumbled hard, tripping on nothing, as he fell to the ground. He laughed and tried to put his hands out in front of him to push himself up, but it was no use. His limbs felt like rubber.

“I musta drunk m-more den I thought?” He said to no one in particular, slow rolling onto his side and undulating his body until he was sitting straight, leaning against the wall. He giggled like a child, struggling to keep his eyes open and autonomy over his body. He hiccuped and dry heaved, pushing a hand to his mouth as he tried to keep his lunch.

It was at this point Cameron knew something was wrong. Even in his inebriated state, he’d never felt like this. He wasn’t just drunk, there was…. something else. His body didn’t feel like his own. Instead, he was merely a passenger, a slave inside a meat suit. He tried to make his arm move, willing it with all of his strength to bring it towards his face. Yet, try as he might, Cameron could barely get a slight twitch.

“Something… wrong… whiff… me…” He slurred, feeling a warm sensation was over his body. Everything went numb, his arms, legs, body, and brain. It wasn’t long before Cameron Pellyn was unconscious on the floor, alone in the hallway.

He wasn’t alone for long, however. After a few minutes, two pairs of footsteps echoed throughout that hallway. They were heavy sounding, accentuated by the ruffling of expensive silks, and the jingle of jewelry. It slowly grew in volume, increasing by every second, until the cocophony came to an aburpt halt as Lendrick and Darwin rounded the corner.

“There he is,” Lendrick said, eyes downcast on the prince’s sleeping form. “To think I wasted nearly a million silver worth of alcohol getting you drunk enough to stop paying attention. Add another few thousand for a the drugs coursing through your system, and you’ve set me back quite a bit you little shit.” He finished with a sharp growl.

“Lazarus,” Darwin cried out in a high-pitched whisper. “Is now really the time to monologue on how much you hate the prince?”

“Oh shut up, Darwin. We wouldn’t be in this mess if you hadn’t thought of the idea of that stupid combat assessment. Not stop your sniveling and help me move him.”

---

Lendrick grunted as he and Darwin strained to bring Cameron’s unconscious body into the latter man’s suite. The Pellyn brat could certainly handle his alcohol well. Even if it was laced with a powerful paralytic. He had somehow managed to get three halls down, before the drug finally took full effect, which meant that Lendrick and Darwin had to practically sprint with Cameron’s body back towards the suite leaving both men out of breath as they dropped the prince onto the floor.

“I… hate him.” Lendrick said through gasping breaths. He was doubled over with his hands on his knees as he struggled to catch his breath.

“You’ve mentioned that already,” Darwin said, leaning against the wall, two fingers pressed to his neck as he tried to check his pulse, “You’re starting to sound manic my friend.”

“Manic?!” Lendrick snapped. “Manic? I’m not manic you twit. I value my life. I have one role and that is to get rid of the seneschal without it being traced back to us. Excuse me if my emotions get the better of me, but I’m a touch high strung lately if you hadn’t noticed.”

“My apologies old friend,” Darwin said, standing and trailing his eyes over the unconscious scion. He grimaced and waited until Lendrick had fully recovered, before turning to the man raising an eyebrow. “What are we going to do now?”

Lendrick shook his head, reaching down to starting moving the Pellyn boy into an awkward position. It looked almost like he had slipped before passing out. Darwin was aware that the plan was to frame the Pellyn boy. But Lendrick had been tight lipped on just how they were going to do it. Still, he trusted his friend. Lendrick had protected him for years, why would he steer him wrong now?

“All right.” Lendrick said, confidence returning to his voice once more as he stood, looking down and readjusting limbs here and there. “I think I know how to proceed.”

Darwin looked up, eyes wide with promise and hope. “Really?” He asked, approaching his friend with a conspiratorial smile. “What is it?”

“Plan B…” Lendrick said in a low and dangerous tone.

“W-What’s plan B?” Darwin asked, leaning in to better hear his plan.

He never heard it. As soon as the man was close enough to him, Lendrick unsheathed a blade that had been hidden up his sleeve, and sank the blade into Darwin’s throat. The man’s eyes went wide in shock and fear as he brought his hands up to his throat, his face contorted in a pained questioning look, as if asking ‘why’?

Lendrick didn’t oblige him with an answer, instead he tripped Darwin, causing him to fall to the floor. Blood splattered flecks across the wall and began to stain the carpet in a burgundy hue. Lendrick was careful not to get too much on himself as he stood over his former companion and stabbed him over and over. Life had left his eyes long before he had finished. But he needed to make it look like a crime of passion after all. Darwin would understand. It wasn’t personal. Well… Maybe a little.

His deed done, Lendrick stood over the body of his former ally, admiring his work.

“You’ll be far more useful this way, Wervil. Trust me.”

With that, he set to task, constructing the scene he needed to. Slipping the blade into Cameron’s hands making sure to include streaks of blood in the correct places. He moved the boy to be on top of Darwin’s body. And there it was. A crime of an angry young man. A young man who hated outsiders. A young man who had the capacity to engage in violence at the slightest provocation, and now, the young man who was capable of killing a foreign dignitary.

Lendrick couldn’t help but smirk. He looked in the mirror, making sure to accentuate his injuries. He took some time to get his story straight. Not like it would be hard to frame this fool, but he always fancied himself an actor.

When he was ready, he stood at the door and took a deep breath. One last moment of calm. This was going to work. It had to. In one frenzied motion he yanked open the door and took off down the hallway screaming in hysterical terror.

“Murder! There’s been a murder in the palace! Help! Please! Prince Cameron Pellyn has killed a diplomat!”

Cameron awoke to a warm liquid pooling around his face as the scent of iron filled his nostrils. He winced in pain and confusion as he tried to sit up pressing down on the soft fabric floor underneath him. But wait… the floor hadn’t been made of fabric, nor was it supposed to depress as he applied pressure to it. Then his eyes opened further to realize it wasn’t the floor he was pressing on, but the body of Wervil Darwin. He shot up, wide awake as the sound of horror escaped from his throat. He threw himself back, trying to scramble away from the scene grizzly before him. That was when he heard the scream behind him.

“Cameron!?!”

Miranda’s shrill shriek of a voice cut through his cloudy thoughts like a knife. He turned to see his sister standing there, eyes wide, hands covering her mouth as tears began to form. Cameron looked between her and Darwin's body, realization slowly dawning on him.

“W-Wait, Miranda! I didn’t do this!” He reached out to her and felt a pang of despair as she flinched backward. A lump formed in his throat as he struggled to form coherent words. He sputtered and fumbled, trying to make sense of the situation. He couldn’t have done this. He wouldn’t have. It was Lendrick he had been fighting, not Darwin. Right? His eyes drifted down to his hands as he became aware he was holding onto something. A knife. It was all he could do to look at the bloodstained blade, trying to force his brain to make the connection.

“I… I didn’t do it.” He said softly, more to himself than to anyone else. Certainly not to the guards who had charged through the door and surrounded him. Each carried a rail revolver which they pointed in his direction, a high pitched priming sound rising in pitch that told Cameron, they wouldn’t hesitate to open fire if he so much as flinched.

“Drop the weapon!” A voice barked at him from behind. Cameron obeyed, dropping the blade as it clattered to the floor. There was a whispering back and forth from the guards behind him, before a rough hand grabbed him by the back of the neck and pushed his face hard to the floor, causing him to wince in pain.

“Don’t hurt him!” He could hear his sister call from the doorway. But it was no use, the guard seemed to either not hear her or not care as Cameron felt a knee jammed into his back. His arms were yanked behind his back and cuffed tightly, the metal digging into his wrists when he was yanked to his feet.

His eyes locked onto Miranda’s again. So many emotions raging just below the surface of her sapphire eyes. Anger, sadness, disbelief…. Fear. Mascara ran down her cheeks as she quietly cried, trying to console herself. It was only as he was forced to walk and got closer to the doorway, that Cameron heard her struggling to contain her heaving sobs. She held up a hand, stopping the guards for just a moment, long enough for her to look into Cameron’s eyes, her voice barely audible as she spoke.

“Tell me you didn’t do this.”

“I didn’t do this, Mirry. I swear.” Cameron whispered back, emotion welling up inside him, making it hard to keep his own tears from falling as he could see her heart breaking by the second.

“Step aside, Lady Miranda. I’ve strict orders from your father, who is still acting monarch as of this moment.” The guard barked in an authoritative tone.

Miranda could only nod and step to the side, her head sunk down as the Guard pushed Cameron out through the doorway and out into the hall. It was there that he saw Miranda wasn’t the only witness to this event. Marcus was just a few feet down the hallway, standing off to the side, with Sybil and Logan standing next to him. Cameron could see that Marcus was in a similar state as Miranda. A look of shock and disbelief plastered onto his face as he looked on, mouth agape at the sight of his ward being led off in handcuffs.

Logan and Sybil were harder to read. The pair's faces were stone-like, though they did meet Cameron’s eyes. It was as if they were also finding this turn of events difficult to process, but in a different way compared to Marcus and Miranda. Sybil’s fingers reached out, brushing across Cameron’s bloodstained hand leaving several streaks. Logan simply gave a near imperceptible nod. His jaw was tight and a vein by his temples was visually pulsing. He wasn’t shocked, he was angry. And he wasn’t the only one.

“There he is your majesty! There’s the murderer!”Lendrick’s voice stirred something within Cameron as white hot rage seeped out of his pores. He turned and saw the chubby bastard, walking side by side with Augustus, coming to a stop a short ways away. Cameron snarled and instinctively tried to move towards Lendrick, straining at his shackles, but a sharp punch in the liver from one of the guards was enough to calm him down. He doubled forward, feeling the air forced out of his body. Looking up he could see his father’s gaze turn to him. He was angry too, but all hostility was turned on his son.

“Explain yourself.” The king growled. “Now.”

Cameron was desperate. He didn’t know what had happened to Darwin, but he knew that he was innocent. He caught his breath and stood tall again, if a little shaky.

“Dad… I… I don’t know what happened but I promise you. I didn’t do this.”

Cameron could hear the strain of his own voice as the damn holding back his tears was threatening to burst. His eyes stung as tears welled up and he pleaded with all his might.

“Dad I swear! You know me! I'm your son, you know I wouldn't do this!”

"I don't know what you are, Cameron, but you're no son of mine."

The dam burst as tears fell down Cameron’s cheeks. He felt sick to his stomach, his throat ached as the lump grew bigger, making it hard for him to speak. It would have been no use anyway, as Augustus simply turned his head to look away from the son he had disowned, waving a hand to have the guards take him away.

The only sound now, was the sniffling cries of a boy who had lost everything.

The intake process for the royal jail was an arduous and exhausting affair. It had taken nearly all night for Cameron to be processed, booked, and thrown into a small concrete cell. Gone were the elegant alabaster stone that ran the length of the palace that sat above him. Here, underneath a mountain of imported rock and beautiful blue gems, Cameron could only see an ocean of gray. He sighed and sniffed as he sat on a thin, uncomfortable cot, his soul feeling as muted and depressed as the color that surrounded him.

“And here I thought this was a regular experience for you,” A gruff, deep voice, that teased a hint of levity spoke out to him from the darkness beyond the bars.

Cameron looked up, gazing out into the pitch black void, squinting as he tried to make the figure standing just beyond his vision. A moment later, Logan stepped forward, coming to a stop underneath the glow of a dim, dying light. His hands were stuff inside his pockets and he stood with an air of nonchalance that left him looking more like he was trying to order a drink instead of conversing with a prisoner.

“Wh-What?” Cameron asked, sounding and looking much more like the boy he was, instead of the confident man Logan had met only a few days before.

“Being behind bars I mean,” Logan said, gesturing to the predicament Cameron presently found himself in. “Murder though? I didn’t really peg you for a killer.”

“That’s because I’m not.” Cameron said, wiping his eyes as he stood, approaching the bars. As he got closer, his ears picked up the distinct hum of an electrical current being passed through them. Just another reminder of how trapped he truly was.

“Well… I gotta say,” Logan began, leaning to the side to look past him. “You really should think about redecorating. Don’t you know gray is out of fashion this time of year?”

“What do you want Logan?” Cameron snapped. He was in no mood to play games, feeling a pang of anger bubble over inside of him. “If this is some sick joke, or taunt, then I promise to get out of this cell, find you, and I’ll actually become what they’re accusing me of.”

“Calm down.” Logan retorted in a more even tone raising his hand in a motion of appeasement. “I Just wanted to come see how you’re holding up. Figured if anyone would be able to find some humor in a situation like this it’d be you.”

Cameron scoffed, finding it hard to keep from rolling his eyes. “And what gave you that impression?”

“Well… you were still being a smarmy little asshole while I was beating the hell out of you.”

Cameron gave a short, soft chuckle as he walked away from the bars, and sat at the edge of the cot. He was quiet for a while, eyes locked on the floor.

“This is different though.”

“How?”

It was a simple question, but it still took Cameron a while before he could come up with an answer.

“Because it was only me suffering then.”

Logan nodded, letting out a sigh as he leaned against a supporting pillar. “I get that,” He said softly. “Though to be fair… it’s only Darwin. I don’t really think he’s going to be missed.”

“It’s not Darwin,” Cameron said, shaking his head. “It’s everyone else. You saw the looks on their faces. The fear… the disgust.”

The memories came rushing back to him, the smell of rust, Miranda’s screams, his father’s parting words. He ground his teeth and shut his eyes tight, hands gripping the side of the cot so hard the rusted metal let out a squeal of protest. He was trying to regain control of his emotions before they threatened to spill over a second time, but he couldn’t deny the words that had been running through his mind since the guards had ushered him away.

“They think I’m a monster.”

He could hear his voice break on the last word of that statement, as his eyes stung, tears blinding his vision. He couldn’t remember a time that he had felt so helpless in this world. So lonely and scared, so… small.

“Maybe they do. Maybe that opinion will never change” Logan’s words were as harsh as they were truthful, even though his tone was soft, and comforting. “But the question is, do you think that you’re a monster?”

Cameron shook his head, not quite ready to meet the man’s gaze yet. “No… But I know what one looks like.”

“You sure about that?”

He nodded, watching his vision clear as his tears dried, a feeling of certainty returning to him. His thoughts drifted to Lendrick, and he felt an involuntary growl echo in his throat. The man had taken everything from him. It should be him rotting in this cell, not Cameron. Better yet, he thought, Lendrick should be rotting in a ditch. A cell was too good for the likes of him.

“Cameron. Look at me.” Logan’s voice calling his name broke him from his angry reflection, putting him back into the present. He did as he was told, his eyes slowly raising to meet Logan’s gaze.

Logan said nothing for a long time. He simply looked at Cameron, his eyes assessing the man, trying to detect the hint of a lie or attempt at subversion. After a minute slowly dragged on in silence, he appeared to be satisfied with what he saw.

“You really are innocent.” Logan finally broke his silence, his tone a soft finality. Cameron could only nod, feeling a sense of hope permeate through his body.

“But why?” He asked, speaking more into the ether than directly at Cameron. “Why would Lendrick frame you? Why would he kill Darwin?”

Cameron knew the answer, his mind going back to that conversation he had overheard. “To cover his tracks. Lendrick and Darwin weren’t here on a mission of goodwill. They were ordered to be here. To make sure everything went smoothly.”

“Make sure what went smoothly?”

Cameron leaned back, resting his head against the bare concrete wall, allowing the cool stone to bring down the heat he felt rising in the back of his neck. “To kill Miranda, and invade the planet.”

“That makes sense.” Logan said flatly. It caught Cameron off guard the nonchalant tone in his voice. But when he looked over at the man, he could see it wasn’t out of callousness, but experience. He figured that when you spent so many years on the battlefield, you got a feel for just how far a lust for wealth and power could take a person. He nodded at Logan, before going into detail everything he had heard and witnessed. The prince’s who were leading the show, the desire to take over Ketris’s interstellar port, and the method of how they planned to do it.

Logan listened intently, only stopping every so often to ask a question. When Cameron was finally done, the weight of his words seem to hang there in the space between them.

“And then I got involved, and… well… here we are.”

“Here we are indeed.” Logan shot back in a grumbling whisper.

A thought occured to Cameron at that moment, which caused him to shoot up from the bed, turning to Logan with fear in his eyes. “You don’t think their still planning on -”

“No, I don’t” Logan said, finishing the thought for him. “Even with Lendrick’s efforts, he’ll still have to find a way to get that information back to his superiors. The last thing they saw was you rushing him down. Hell, they probably think he’s dead.”

This gave Cameron a small semblence of peace. Yet, still he pressed on, his worry for his family outweighing his desire to forget about the prospect of their deaths. “What happens if he does get that information back?”

Logan could only shrug. “My guess? I think they’ll probably start planning again. I think they’ll wait until Sybil leaves though. No matter how power hungry they are, they’re not stupid enough to piss off earth. But enough about that. We need to figure a way to get you out of here.”

Cameron slumped back on his cot, feeling a wave of relief wash over him, calming him just enough to feel the sharp sting of fear well up inside of him. He swallowed hard, shaking his head.

“I don’t think that’s going to happen. If I know my father, and if Lendrick get’s his way, I think their gonna want to make an example of me.”

“Meaning what exactly?”

It was Cameron’s turn to shrug, sighing in exasperation. “Life in prison, or worse. But I think they’ll probably lean towards the latter.”

“I see.”

“Yeah…” Cameron said, lowering his head in his hands. He wasn’t crying anymore. The tears wouldn’t fall even if he wanted them to. Instead, he was trying to convince himself to come to peace with his future.

Logan had other plans.

The heavy footfalls of his boots brought Cameron’s gaze up just in time to see Logan walking down the sparesly lit hallway. He felt like calling after him, Logan beat him to the punch.

“Don’t worry. I’ll be back.” He called, waving a hand dismissively

“Where are you going?” Cameron called back.

It took until Logan reached the door, his hand grasping the handle before he answered.

“Getting you another option.”

Logan took his time walking back to the royal chambers. He needed time to think, to plan. There were so many variables to this. So many things that could go wrong. He only hoped that the people he needed would do their part. His footsteps stopped their hollow ringing on the metal grating that lead down into the basement where the kid was being kept, transferring to a low echo as he transitioned to the alabaster stone floor of the palace proper.

“It’ll work.” He said to himself, passing by a pair of servants who were busy cleaning the halls. They stopped and stood, giving him a proper greeting which he reciprocated with a hasty wave.

He knew he wasn’t just doing this out of the kindness of his heart. Sure, that pudgy little fuck, Lendrick had framed Cameron, and sure, Augustus would never win father of the year, but he was getting something out of this too. Something he had been wanting to do for the past three years. Something that he couldn’t do with the caliber of alpha class pilots running around nowadays. But with Cameron, it was different. He was fresh, excitable… trainable. If Logan played his cards right, he could turn the kid into a powerful and deadly asset. And a profitable one at that. All he needed to do, was get him out.

He turned the last corner leading towards the royal chambers, where his ears picked up the unmistakable sound of an argument going on behind its closed doors. There were two guards posted outside, rail-rifles in hand, armor shining with the early morning sun the came in through a series of open air slats cut open in the rock. He stopped, taking a minute to gather himself. Looking down at his hands, he could see a slight tremble near his fingertips and for once, he wasn’t sure if it was because of the withdrawals, or just nerves concerning what he was about to do. He hated politics with a passion. A bunch of stuffy, pretentious assholes who spent their lives tip-toeing around their words, and attending parties with people who they hated, while sending people like him off to fight and die in the battles that actually mattered.

‘You can do this… You have to,’ He thought, readying himself for the fallout of what these next few minutes would bring. He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, feeling that same sense of calm he did before a drop. It was just another day at the office. His thoughts clear, and emotions calm, he marched his way towards the guards, determination clear in his authoritative bark.

“Open it.”

The argument that had been raging only a moment before had come to an abrupt stop as Logan stepped through the threshold and surveyed the scene before him. It was a large, office-like room, circular in structure and opulently decorated. A large desk made from a dark wood drew the eye, filling its role as the room’s centerpiece. Logan breathed a sigh of relief as he saw Miranda sitting behind it, a small yet ornate silver crown trimmed with sapphires perched atop her head. His relief faded as he got a look at her facial features, however. Her face was oily and swollen, likely a credit to an emotional and sleepless night. Thin lines of mascara were still present on her cheeks. The aftermath of the tears that came from her now sunken and bloodshot eyes. Her hair looked like it had been done in a hurry, with black strands peeking out from behind the crown.

She looked haggard… aged. This wasn’t the same woman he had known from his days in the guard. It wasn’t even the same woman he had met three days ago, before all of this tragedy. But she just might be the woman he needed.

“I see congratulations are in order.” He said, putting on his best attempt at a smile as he closed the door behind him, entering the room fully. She returned his smiled with a forced one of her own, a silent conversation of understanding and sympathy unfolding as Logan walked till he was a few feet in front of her, where he gave a low, respectful bow.

“Long live Queen Miranda Pellyn.”

A soft chuckle left her lips, as she gave a curt nod, though her smiled refused to raise beyond its barely noticeable lift.

“Thank you Logan. Though we missed you at the ceremony.”

“That, you did. I thought it wasn’t happening until noon.”

Her smile faltered slightly as she cleared her throat. “Y-Yes well, it was a last-minute change due to… recent events.”

“We would have told you, but you seemed to have disappeared Mr. Rake.” Lendrick’s voice off to his left drew his gaze where Logan saw the diplomat and Augustus sitting in two cushioned leather chairs, bodies rigid, and expressions far from friendly. A quick glance to his right and he saw Sybil and Marcus sharing the opposite side of the room. Sybil, face passive and neutral, was busy pouring herself a drink from the rooms liquor cabinet, while Marcus stood near the back wall, hands behind his back and looking forward, trying to mimic the earthlings unassuming look, but failing to keep what could be frustration or anger from showing on his face as he fought to keep his lips from deforming into a disgusted scowl.

‘Good’ Logan thought. Maybe there was more than just one person on his side in here. He turned back to Lendrick, aware that the man expected a proper response.

“I was caught up in something important.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. “And I don’t really believe you were looking all that hard for me now, were you?”

Lendrick returned the gesture, contempt and arrogance dripping off every word of his reply. “I’m not your keeper Mr. Rake. It’s not my fault you supposedly found something more important to do than be here for the Queens ascension. Though I will say, it’s not a good look for a supposed ‘guest of honor’.”

Lendrick gave a smirk and Logan had to fight hard to keep from bouncing the ambassadors head off of the desk. The only thing that kept him calm was the promise of his reaction, should his plan work.

“Just what exactly were you up too, if you don’t mind my asking?” Augustus chimed in, grabbing Logan’s attention. It was as good an opportunity as any to put his plan in to action, though he didn’t jump on it right away. Instead, he walked over to the liquor cabinet passing by Sybil, acutely aware the way she cut her eyes in his direction. He grabbed a glass and poured himself a drink answering as he did so.

“I was speaking with your son Augustus.”

A sharp intake of breath seemed to suck the calm from the room, replacing it with a heavy cloud of tense unease.

“Why?!” Augustus bellowed, all sense of decorum and decency forgotten in his fury.

Logan kept his cool, taking a swig from his glass of whiskey, before leaning against the, wall eyeing the two mean across the room sharing a look of shock and anger.

“Because someone needed to talk to him Augustus. Someone needed to hear his side of the story instead of just siccing the guard on him and carting him away.”

“You had no right-”

“I had every right.” Logan snapped back with a growl. “I know it’s hard to look for the truth with a boot in your mouth but the fact you’d outright believe this asshole is absurd.”

“You are out of line Rake!” Lendrick got to his feet, his face flushed red as he came to the former kings defense. “The boy had the knife in his hand, he was passed out over the body. You had best watch your tongue going forward, tourist.”

Logan blinked, his anger beginning to surge. “What the hell did you just call me?”

Lendrick scoffed, feeling confident with an audience. “Shall I say it slower for the imbecile? Tour-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish, Logan had seen to that. In the time it took him to speak the offense, Logan had shot off the wall, enhanced bone density from his threading implants causing his foot to crack the stone. He had crossed the length of the room in the blink of an eye, grabbing Lendrick by the neck, and pinned him to the wall, looking him in the eye as he squeezed his throat.

“Agh… Let. Go!” The dignitary strained to get out through gritted teeth, clawing at Logan’s grip trying to free himself. His eyes started to bulge, while his red face began to take on a shade of blue.

Logan raised him higher off the ground, unflinching even as the man kicked his dangling feet out in a fruitless attempt as an escape. He could hear the screams of the others, feel Augustus’ hand trying to pry his hand off of Lendrick. All of this, Logan ignored. Instead, he leaned in, whispering into Lendrick’s ear.

“Two things Lazarus. First, say that word again, and it will be the last to have the displeasure of gracing your lips. Secondly… I know. Make sure you give Aylim and Prince Caustos my regards.”

He pulled back to look into the man’s eyes. They were still bulging as he struggled to suck in air. But there was something else living behind the look of pain and of survival. Recognition. Logan fought back snarl, and the urge to crush the man’s windpipe. His grip loosened and Lendrick dropped like a stone, sinking to the floor with a thunderous crash. He looked down on the man, feeling a sense of glee rise up through his body. He didn’t even care when he heard the sound of a rail-rifle being primed.

“Step away from Lord Lendrick!” the guard ordered. Logan complied taking a step back, raising his hands up in the air.

“Turn around. NOW!”

Again he obeyed, turning to face the rest of the group. There was a myriad of emotions on display now. Augustus, clearly being the one who had fetched the two from outside looked livid. He was breathing heavily, his face sharing the same color as Lendrick’s before Logan had grabbed him.

Marcus was more in shock than anything. His eyes were wide, and jaw slightly agape, though he still hadn’t moved from his position before. Sybil also hadn’t left her station by the liquor cabinet, though her surprise under layered with what Logan thought looked amusement. She really was an interesting individual.

His eyes cut to Miranda and what he saw, seemed promising. She too shared the look of shock as Marcus, but unlike the servant there was a curiosity that flashed across her face. An uncertainty of why Logan had reacted the way he did. He had hoped that she would voice a question on her own, but when the lead guard started to move to make an arrest and she still had said nothing, he knew he’d have to be the one to open the dialogue. Fine with him. He always did have a love for theatrics. He opened his mouth, speaking his declaration with a conviction that could belong to a man who had nothing to lose.

“I, Logan Rake am invoking the right of forced relinquishment on behalf of Cameron Pellyn, in accordance with the Free Space Pioneering Act of 2175.”

Everything came to a complete stop the moment Logan opened his mouth. No one moved a muscle, not even the guard, who stopped mid arrest, looking at Logan with a raised eyebrow, before turning to scan the rest of the room, trying to gleam a shred of clarity on what had just been said. Luckily, he had a few options to choose from. The first, was that of a shared look of disbelief and anger on the faces of the former King and Lendrick. Then there was the earthling, Sybil, jaw agape and eyes wide like she would have never considered such a thing to be said. Finally, Queen Miranda’s reaction was one of pure confusion, as she looked between everyone else.

A veil of silent tension filled the room, and the guard felt, for lack of a better term… awkward. He turned to face the queen, clearing his throat and drawing her eye.

“Your majesty… I’m sorry, but… did you wish for me to arrest Captain Rake? I don’t mean to sound insubordinate, it’s just that his proclamation sounded rather… official? I wouldn’t want to be interfering in interspace business while in the process of performing my duties.”

Miranda blinked, then shook her head, clearing the fog of confusion that had set in.

“No, you’re fine Sarmis… Please, return to your post. And close the door behind you when you do. Do not come in unless you specifically hear my voice calling for you.”

The guard nodded, doing an about face and marching through the doorway. All eyes were on him as he grabbed the doorknob, easing it shut. Then as if the audible sound of the latch clicking into place was the primer, the room exploded into a cacophony of voices all at once.

“You can’t do that!” Lendrick bellowed “It’s his right as a free-space citizen!” Marcus said, finally speaking up as he took a step towards the rest of the group.

“Gentlemen, what’s -” Miranda began to speak, when she was cut off by the all-encompassing argument.

“Seriously Logan? You’d invoke that right on my son?” Augustus growled, mouth agape in shock.

“I thought he wasn’t your son anymore Augustus?” Logan shot back. “Why do you give a shit all of a sudden?”

“Why you little -”

“Erm… excuse me?” Miranda tried again, her voice a little louder as she tried to be heard.

“I won’t stand for this!” Lendrick shouted, his face turning red in a fury. “Prince Caustos won’t stand for this.”

“Well both you and the prince are more than welcome to sit,” Logan said, leaning in till his face was inches from the diplomat. “Because last time I checked, you don’t get a say in this!”

“How dare you!”

“HEY!” Miranda shouted, her voice going up several octaves in a screech that brought all other voices to a screeching halt. Logan, Lendrick, Augustus, and Marcus all turned to her, eyes wide in surprise, their mouths closing as they adjusted themselves back to a more dignified state.

Miranda took a moment to center herself, closing her eyes as she took a deep breath. She ran a hand through her greasy black hair, pushing it back behind her ears, before exhaling slowly, not looking up as she spoke in a soft, warning tone.

“I understand tensions are high right now. I also understand that there are… conflicting opinions in this room concerning this… invocation. But today is not only my first day as queen, but my first day hearing about something so polarizing. So do you think it all possible that one of you could stop this pissing contest for FIVE MINUTES, and tell me what Forced Relinquishment is?!”

The silence in the room was deafening. None of the occupants made a sound as Miranda scanned the room. None, except for Sybil’s faint, breathy giggling. All eyes turned in her direction, and unlike everyone else, she hadn’t moved an inch in all the commotion. There she was, lounging against the wall, a glass of whiskey in one hand that swung freely, while the other, she held up to her stomach, trying to contain her laughter.

“My my,” She said after a moment, the familiar knowing smirk on her lips as she looked out towards the faces gazing on her. “I’ll give you this, you lot are the most entertaining group of people this side of the sector. I can’t tell you the last time I’ve been so entertained.”

Miranda’s temples throbbed in frustration, though she kept her calm enough to speak in a more subdued and diplomatic tone, even if it was through clenched teeth.

“Do you know what they’re talking about Sybil? This… forced relinquishment?”

“I do…” She said cryptically, casting her eyes down to stare at her drink, which she was swirling in her palm.

Miranda felt her eye twitch and had to take another deep breath before responding. “Would you please enlighten me as to what it is?”

A smile appeared on Sybil’s face, though she stayed quiet for a time, choosing instead to drain the rest of the alcohol in her glass. She gave a satisfied sigh, setting the drink down, and just when Miranda was getting ready to truly lose her patience, was when she answered.

“Forced Relinquishment, a by-product of the Free Space Pioneering Act of 2175. Back then, Earth’s fleet was stretched thin from rapid colonization, yet they still wanted visibility in the eastern arm of the galaxy. To that end, they decided to rely on private corporations to go out and explore, promising tax breaks and relaxed government oversight. But, they still needed the bodies to fill the ships. So, using an old tactic from the ancient British Empire’s colonization of Australia, they found them.”

“British Empire? Australia? I’m not sure I follow.” Miranda said, her eyebrow raised in curiosity and confusion.

Sybil shook her head, waving away her questions.

“Not important. Just a fun little historical fact. What is important however,” She said, slowly raising her gaze to look from Miranda to Logan, her gaze a cold and powerful beam that seemed to gaze into his very being, “is that Mr. Rake here has potentially found a loophole to get Cameron out of prison.”

“What?” Miranda gasped, her mouth dropping open as she looked from Sybil to Logan. The man didn’t return her gaze, focusing instead on the slowly nodding Sybil.

“You heard me right. See, like I said, the government took inspiration from the old worlds way of doing things. So, when they needed bodies to go out on colony ships, and couldn’t find anyone up to the task, they turned to people that society wasn’t going to miss, i.e. prisoners. They set up the corporations as their own governing body and went through the various correctional facilities. They ran tests, physicals, psych evals, the whole shebang. Anyone that the companies deemed fit was, for lack of a better term, forced to relinquish their citizenship in order to join the colonization expeditions.”

“By the stars, that sounds horrible!” Miranda’s face had contorted into a grimace of disgust. Ketris had servants and a working class, but slavery had been outlawed since the planets founding. To her, the thought of forcing someone to abandon their life in order to be at the whim of another government was something so horrible she didn’t want to even think of it.

Sybil on the other hand simply shrugged, her tone nonchalant as she continued. “That depends on you prospective I suppose. But to a cut a long story short, the expeditions were a success, and the act stayed in service with a few modifications. Now, a citizen of free-space has the right to invoke a request of forced relinquishment on any prisoner under earth jurisdiction. As long as the request is approved by an Earthgov official, which in this case would be me, and the current ruling planetary official, being you, Logan can take Cameron under his custody and responsibility.

Miranda went through a gamut of emotions, internally as well as facially. Shock, disgust, curiosity all ran through her along with something else… hope. She looked at Sybil who gave her an affirming stare before looking back to Logan who now met her gaze. She saw something then, something behind cold, steel-colored eyes. It was an effort to get her tongue to form the words for the question she needed to ask.

“You… You really think he’s innocent. Don’t you?”

A slight tilt of his head told her all she needed to know. She turned back to Sybil who was watching the exchange with interest.

“So… just like that? If we both approve, Cameron goes free?”

Sybil made a face that could only have been read as ‘not exactly’.

“In a way, yes. But also no. There’s quite a few caveats that we’d need to discuss before we make it official -”

“You can’t possibly mean to go through with this!” A shout from the far end of the room broke the calm atmosphere of the moment. Lendrick, who it seemed, couldn’t contain his indignation any longer was staring daggers at Sybil.

“The Pellyn boy murdered a planetary official! Surely you don’t intend to approve such a preposterous request? You’d be a fool to do so! I don’t know how you can honestly call yourself a representative of the mother planet for even considering this!”

Sybil blinked, taking a moment, before she took a step in Lendrick’s direction. Then she took another step, her tone growing cold and dangerous as she spoke.

“I’m sorry. I think you’ve made a mistake there Lazarus. See, I think you believe that I’m someone who cares what you deem preposterous. Or perhaps you think that I actually care as to your thoughts on a matter that doesn’t concern you,”

Her voice was sharp and authoritative, dripping with venom from every syllable. As she crossed the threshold, all eyes were on her, all ears opened to understand her clearly.

“Let’s get one thing straight okay? This is my sector. Not yours. These walls, this floor, the trees outside, the blood in your veins, they all belong to me.”

Her tone deepened and dropped and octave, coming out as more of a hiss, as she backed the diplomat into a corner. No one else moved a muscle. Even Augustus, who until this moment, had backed the man since he had arrived on the planet, was silent and still.

Lendrick was visibly perspiring, his lips quivering, as he realized he had nowhere to go. He looked around, trying to find someone, anyone to help him out of this situation. When that proved useless, he changed tactics, attempting to smooth things over.

“M-My apologies for any offense Ms. Moore. I-I was simply -”

She didn’t let him finish, putting a finger to his lips to quiet him as she leaned in her lips inches from his ear, speaking at a whisper that was still loud enough for all to hear.

“Yes, we let you have your little nobilities, and give you the impression that we’re just here to make sure everything runs smoothly, but make no mistake. Critique the way I run my sector again, or continue this dialogue of acting like some entitled child, and there is no one who can save you from what I’ll do to you. I run shit around here. You just live here.”

She pulled back to gaze into his eyes and in that moment, Lendrick saw nothing but cold hard truth. He gulped, his breath a trembling shudder.

“Understood?” She asked, practically growling the word.

He nodded rapidly, not taking his eyes off the women.

“Good.” She said, her tone changing instantly, back to it’s usual cool and friendly timbre. She turned away from Lendrick, her gaze settling on Marcus, who was currently looking at her in abject terror.

“Marcus, can you be a dear and fetch my datapad from my room? I have some paperwork to draw up. That is,” She turned to look at Miranda, “If you’d wish to proceed with the process? What do you say?”

She didn’t even hesitate.

Cameron eye’s had just barely closed, when the sound of heavy footsteps on the concrete floor caused his eyes to open once again. The prison was empty, save for its only occupant, him. So when the sound continued to grow in volume he knew there could only be one reason. Something was about to happen, whether he liked it or not. He sat up on his cot and rubbed the sleep from his eyes, blinking rapidly to get them to focus. He could feel their protests of use, and felt a sharp ache in the left one, signaling a burst blood vessel. This, coupled with the oily sheen he felt on his face and his ball clothing he still wore, bloodstained and wrinkled, told him all he needed to know about how appeared. Exhausted and pathetic. Still, he managed to force a look of confidence on his face, as the footsteps came to a stop right outside his cell.

“Is it breakfast already?” He called out to the unseen person, likely a guard coming to check on him. When no one answered, he hopped up, walking towards the bars. “I don’t suppose you guys take special orders do you?”

“Unfortunately,” Logan responded, his gravelly voice giving Cameron pause, “We were a little short on time, so you’ll have to make do with what we can provide.”

Cameron took a moment, his smile dropping as he tried to find the meaning in Logan’s words.

“… What are you doing here Logan?”

“I told you. I was going to get you another option. And I did.”

“What?” Cameron’s voice came out more desperate than he had wanted, but he couldn’t help it. He reached out, wrapping his hands on the cool steel bars and squeezing them in a white knuckled grip. “What do you mean?”

There was pause, followed by a weary sigh from Logan. “I mean… I can get you out of here… I am getting you out. But, it’s not going to be in the way you expect… or approve of.”

“W-What do you mean?” Cameron asked, his voice cracking from the hope that was slowly welling up in his chest. “If you can get me out of here, I don’t care what you do! Just do it!”

Another pause. A longer one this time, with Cameron chewing his bottom lip as impatiently waited.

“Logan? Are you still there?” He asked, worry in his voice as he feared he had scared the man off.

“Just… Do me a favor.” Logan called back, breaking the silence. He was still out of sight but something in the way he was speaking didn’t sit right with Cameron. It was almost as if he was… pleading with him. Like when a parent was struggling to tell their child they pet had died. It was unsettling, but Cameron wasn’t about to let his freedom slip through his fingers just because Logan felt bad.

“Sure. Anything. What is it?” Cameron called out, pressing his face to the bar, trying to see where the man was. It couldn’t find him in the darkness but he heard his voice only a few feet off to his left.

“Promise me you’ll keep your mouth shut until I tell you it’s okay. You’re probably going to react once things are made… official. But you have a role to play in this, same as you. How I play that role depends on how you react. I have no qualms doing this the easy way or the hard way. But I’d rather do it the easy way. No I can’t tell you what’s going on right now. No one else can either. But I promise I’ll explain everything when it’s over. Understood?”

Cameron couldn’t help it, the curiosity to know outweighed his yearning for freedom in that moment.

“Logan what the hell are you -”

“Just say you understand Cameron.” Logan’s voice was flat and cold, causing a tremor of apprehension to shoot up Cameron’s spine. He wanted to know more. Needed to even. But, he resigned himself to obey Logan’s request.

“I understand.” He said, before closing his mouth.

“Good.” Logan acknowledged before stepping into Cameron’s vision for the first time. He was dressed in the same attire he had worn when Cameron first saw him; combat boots,tactical pants and a sleeveless compression shirt, his uplink threads on full display. Cameron opened his mouth to make a comment on the outfit but a warning look from Logan was enough for him to clamp down and stay silent. Logan waited a moment, before nodding and pulling a key out of his pocket.

“I told the guard I should be the one to do this.” He muttered as he put the key into the lock and unlocking the door with a low, rumbling thunk.

The door slid open, allowing Cameron to step out into the dimly lit hall. He looked around, seeing the barely furnished environment of the jail before turning back to Logan, raising an eyebrow as if to ask ‘What next?’.

Logan nodded forward, pointing with his chin to the heavy metal door, leading to the exit saying only one word. “Walk.”

---

Cameron was conflicted as he and Logan made their way through the winding hallways of the palace. On one hand he was happy, grateful even to be out of that cell, breathing clean air once again. But the mood had been soured by the foreboding mood that hung in the air. There was an unsettling silence that permeated throughout the palace, and Cameron spent a long time trying to figure out why. Then he noticed how empty the hallways were. No servants hustling and bustling throughout the complex. No minor nobility schmoozing and politicking in the various salons and gathering rooms. The whole palace was empty. At least it appeared to be.

Then Logan rounded a corner and Cameron understood. The large alabaster doors leading to the throne room were open, and the room was packed. Servants, nobles, and guards were jammed inside, filling the room on either side, leaving a space leading to the throne large enough for Cameron and Logan to walk through side by side.

“Remember what I said.” Logan said in a sharp whisper. Cameron looked over to the man to find him looking forward, jaw set and face devoid of any emotion as he clarified. “Do what you’re told and keep quiet. Don’t make me do this the hard way.”

Cameron could only nod, before swallowing hard, his throat scratchy and dry. Logan nodded back and started walking again, causing Cameron to match his gait as the pair entered the throne room eyes forward, gazing on the group waiting to recieve them.

There was Miranda, sitting on the throne, looking slightly refreshed compared to Cameron, though her red cheeks and glassy eyes told him her tear stains were fresh. Off to her right, Sybil stood, clutching a piece of parchment, her face neutral, if a little… sympathetic? Cameron’s confusion was mounting, but he stayed silent, his inner turmoil reaching a near boiling point as he felt deeper into confusion.

Of to the left, more sidelined than Sybil, but still a part of welcoming committee were Augustus and Lendrick, the Latter of which was staring daggers at Cameron, with the former doing so for Logan. Just what the hell was going on?

“Announcing Captain Logan Rake, and transferee, Cameron Pellyn!” Marcus’s voice boomed, signaling their approach properly, even though all eyes were already on the two. There was a word to his announcement that drew Cameron’s attention. Transferee. Just what did that mean?

“Approach, brother.” Miranda said flatly, snapping Cameron’s attention back to his sister. He gulped, before taking a step forward, standing front and center as Miranda turned to Sybil holding out a hand. Sybil said nothing, not taking her eyes off Cameron as she passed the parchment.

“Captain Rake,” Miranda continued, a slight sharpness to her tone as she called his name that Cameron caught. “Please approach.”

Logan obeyed, stepping next to Cameron, and the prince could see his sister’s eyes glaring at Logan for the faintest of moments before turning back to him, sighing heavily. Then she stood, unfurling the parchment, reading it in an official oration.

“To all parties concerned in the matter of one Cameron Pellyn of the planet Ketris, ordained by EarthGov, Southern Arm, Sector 5 Let it be known that a request for Forced Relinquishment has been made on behalf of the stated party above, by one Logan Rake, Free-Space citizen and current acting ambassador. Request has been acknowledged and approved by one Sybil Moore of EarthGov and one Miranda Pellyn, ruling monarch of previously stated planet. Effective immediately you are hearby stripped of your citizenship -”

“What?!” Cameron exclaimed, forgetting his promise in his confusion. What did she mean stripped of citizenship? A sharp elbow to his ribs followed by warning glare of Logan caused him to quiet once again. He looked to Logan, the man giving an imperceptible shake of the head, before they both turned to look at Miranda. Cameron could see her eyes tearing up once again, but she managed to clear her throat and continued to read aloud.

“Effective Immediately you are hearby stripped of your citizenship, and placed into the care and custody of stated Free-Space citizen, Logan Rake. Should you hold any noble titles or claims you are stripped of those as well. Additionally, the name Cameron Pellyn will be unlisted from the galactic census. Going forward, you’re name as having been assigned by one Logan Rake is the name Cam Ket.”

“W-Wait! Miranda! What’s going -” Cameron exclaimed once again, his mind racing with information and fear induced anxiety. Before he could finish however, a fist had impacted his stomach with a force hard enough to lift him off his feet. In the blink of an eye, Logan had turned and delivered the blow, hitting Cameron with the force of a bullet. His eyes went wide as his breath left his lungs, knees buckling as he collapsed to the floor. His body convulsed, shaking from shock as he fought for air, while Logan knelt over him, his voice coming out as a quiet growl.

“Shut. The fuck. Up.” He said, slowly enunciating each word. “Let her finish reading, before they come to their senses and decide to keep you here.”

Cameron eyes watered from the pain, confusion and despair running rampant in his mind, as Logan grabbed him, getting him back on his feet. He sniffled, his gasps quieting as he found oxygen once again.

“Miranda had turned away, audibly sniffling as she wiped her face, before turning back, looking at Logan as she struggled to piece together what she wanted to say.

“K-Keep control of your transferee Mr. Rake. For all our sakes.”

Logan simply nodded, waving with his hand. “Please continue, your majesty.

She cleared her throat one more time, not opening the parchment again, seemingly having memorized the last passage as she looked into Cameron’s eyes, with tears of sadness, and… relief falling freely now.

“You have three hours to gather any possessions that you can carry, and leave planetary orbit. You are forbidden from returning to Ketris. Do you have any questions?”

Cameron had many, but he had learned his lesson, meeting her question with a pitiful silence.

---

The next few hours went by in a flash. Once Miranda had finished her Edict, Cam was escorted off by the guards and taken to his old quarters. There, he was given a duffel bag and a half hour to fill it with his belongings, being supervised the whole time. He packed in silence, his mind cluttered with racing thoughts and emotional turmoil.

How could they do this to him? Strip him of everything and throw him out like trash? His heart ached with pangs of loss and rage. In less than twenty-four hours he had went from having everything, to nothing. He was no one now. A ghost that Ketris would forget the minute he left it.

“They should have just killed me.”

He didn’t waste too much time packing, there was only so much he could carry after all. So he kept it simple. A few changes of clothes, a bottle of whiskey he had stowed away for a special occaision, and a photograph that sat on his dresser collecting dust. He must of passed it thousands of times without giving it a second thought. But today… things were different. He grabbed it off the dresser and looked it. It was an old picture, showing him and his family. The triplets couldn’t have been more than six, Liam bearing a gap toothed grin as Ian and Dean looked to be in the middle of an argument. Miranda was off to the right, standing next to their mother, both women bearing a similar regal demeanor. And then there was Cam, standing next to his father who was seated at the throne, his face contorted into a warm smile, his hand resting on a young Cam’s shoulder.

Those were better days. Days that he could look back on fondly. Days that he could never return to. A bitter taste entered from the back of his throat as his stomach lurched with an empty pain. He felt a sneer tug at his lips, and became aware that he’d been grinding his teeth. It was too much for him bear. These people weren’t his family. They were strangers. And this wasn’t a memory. It was a lie.

“Fuck this.” He growled as he reached up ripped the photo down the middle, tossing it to the ground like old garbage. If they could just remove him so easily from their lives, then he could do the same. He looked around one last time before walking out, not giving that room, nor his old life a second thought.

“Take me to the dock.” He mumbled to the guards as he passed. “Now.”

---

If Cam had to describe Logan’s ship, Cerberus in two words, it would ‘Non-Descript’. It wasn’t huge, like any of the tankers, ferrying supplies from neighboring sectors, easily a kilometer long from one end to the other. Nor was it small, like the shuttles used to transport people from planet to planet roughly the same size as one of the ancient automobiles that littered Earth hundreds of years. It was simply the size it needed to be. A metal hull, 500 meters long and 50 meters wide floated gently on the gravdoc, with a hatch roughly 50 meters high looming over him as he sat down next to the gangplank, waiting for his new ‘Master’ to show up.

He didn’t have to wait long. As after only ten minutes, Cam spotted the familiar faces of Logan and Marcus walking toward him. Seeing their faces caused a fresh wave of rage to was over him and he had to stop himself from lunging at them the second they got close enough, settling instead for gripping the edges of his seat so tight he could hear the wood crack in protest.

Logan was the first the speak, already do damage control as he held his hands up in surrender. “Look kid, I know you’re probably pissed. But trust me -”

“Trust you?!” Cam snapped in response. His anger had boiled over in such a force that he couldn’t contain even if he wanted to.

“I did trust you! And look where it got me! I have no home Logan. No name. I’m the equivalent of a slave! THIS is what I got for trusting you!” He shouted, spit flying from his lip as the dam broke and a flood of emotions came spewing forth.

“Cameron I-” Marcus tried to cut in, but was cut off by Cam’s continued tirade.

“It’s not Cameron anymore, Marcus. It’s Cam. And you’re not responsible for me anymore so why the FUCK are you here?!”

Marcus didn’t raise his voice in return. He simply allowed Cam to continue yelling, letting him get everything out he had been bottling since this morning. Then he took a breath and spoke in a gentle, warm tone.

“I… Don’t have a home anymore either, Master Cam. I relinquished my post shortly after you were escorted away.”

This got Cam’s attention. He stopped, stunned for a moment, his anger replaced by a sense of confusion. “What do you mean, Marcus?” He asked, slightly more aggressive than he had intended.

“He’s coming with us,” Logan said matter-of-factly, looking at Cameron with a look that radiated both irritation and understanding. “It was a part of the deal. A stipulation on Miranda’s part that Marcus volunteered for. I was getting ready to explain it to you before you decided to throw a temper tantrum.”

“Because you bought me Logan! Like fucking livestock!”

“No! I saved your life!” Logan was shouting back now, taking a step forward as both men invade the other’s personal space. “You and I both know that you would have died or had been left to rot if Lendrick got his way!”

“Then what am I supposed to do now?!” Cam shot back, practically foaming at the mouth.

“Live!” Logan bellowed, drawing out the word until his face turned purple from exertion.

A heavy silence fell over the three of them, the only sounds being the grinding metal of heavy machinery, and Logan’s breathing. It took him a minute to gather himself, though somehow, he managed. He sighed heavily and looked Cameron in the eye, his anger and irritation replaced by something else, regret.

“I’m sorry Cam.” He said, his voice slightly raspy and tinged with exhaustion. “Really, I am. But I wasn’t about to let that happen to you. I wish that I could have done it a different way, but this is all I could think to do.”

Cam was taken aback at this display of vulnerability from the man. Something in him clicked in that moment. Like before, it hadn’t felt real enough for him yet. But seeing Logan look at him with such… pity was enough. His mask of bravery that had been sustained by anger and distraction was shattered in that instant. He wanted to cry. Wanted to wish that this was all a bad dream and wake up like nothing had ever happened. But he couldn’t. This was his reality now. Cameron Pellyn had died today, and left of husk of his being behind. How that husk was filled was now left up to him. Was this really how he wanted to begin this new life, regardless if it was his choice to live it?

No.

Cam took a moment to collect himself, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. He took in the fresh air through his nostrils, letting it fill his lungs, before slowly exhaling. He imagined that with every breath he was pushing a piece of his old self out. His anger, his arrogance, his apathy, all were products of his old life and there was no room for them now. When he opened his eyes and looked back at Logan, he still felt the anger that had overtaken him a moment ago, but it was a mere ember, when compared to the raging inferno from before. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever stop feeling this heat that burned inside of him, for now, he could focus on another feeling… clarity.

“Look…” He began, chewing at his lip as he searched for the right words. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get over this.”

Logan nodded slowly, opening his mouth as if getting ready to reply, but Cam wasn’t done just yet.

“However…” He said, steeling himself as he continued. “What’s done is done. I can’t change the past no matter how badly I want to. I’m don’t want to be angry all the time. I don’t want to be wallowing in a past life that I’ll never return to.”

“So what do you want then?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow in appraisal.

“I want to do what you told me to. I want to live. Whatever that looks like out there in Free-Space, I want to live.”

A small smile slowly crept onto Logan’s face teasing the corners of his mouth as he nodded. “I think we can do that. Free-Space is a pretty big place. Shouldn’t be too hard to do that out there.”

“Then tell me what I need to do.” Cam said. His eyes set in a determined glare as he held out a hand towards Logan.

Logan looked at the outstretched hand, then at Marcus, the two of them sharing a widening grin. He then turned back to meet Cam’s gaze as he reached out as well, taking the offered hand in a firm grasp.

“First things first Kid. We got some homework to do.”

On a dwarf planet in the Cawlim system, Cam Ket had crashed his Squire for the third time that day.

“Damn it!” He cried as he saw CRITICAL DAMAGE TO COCKPIT flash on the cracked windshield that was currently giving him a very picturesque view of a large pine tree. He wiped the blood currently dripping from his nose and picked up the headset that had been flung in the sudden impact. Even before he put it on he could hear the high-pitched shrieking that told him Aurora was not happy.

“Did you wreck again?!” She shrilly shouted, her voice cracking in her frustration, causing Cam to wince.

“It’s not my fault,” He said weakly, lacking any excuse. “That tree came out of nowhere.”

Aurora was having none of it, sighing before responding in a mocking tone, “Oh it just came out of nowhere? Oh yeah, that makes total sen- shut the hell up and get your ass back here! I need to do some repairs before you hit the course again and even with two suns, we’re still burning daylight.”

Cam sighed, biting his tongue as he listened to Aurora’s continued chastising, “En route now.” He said in a defeated tone before turning off the channel, tossing his headset against the wall and angrily shouting out “Fuck!”

---

It took Logan a good fifteen minutes to navigate his Squire from the dense forest of trees back to base camp. It wasn’t much to look at, as Logan valued simplicity over comfort. The Fenris had landed inside a heavily wooded valley, with storage containers strewn about, containing everything from sleeping quarters, a kitchen, a med bay, and a mechanic's shop situated at the back of the compound.

It was here where Cameron piloted his Squire, bringing the mech to a halt outside a large garage door which was slowly rising, granting him entry. He didn’t have the time to guide it inside however, before seeing a tuft of blue hair bouncing quickly out of his vision, before hearing the metallic echoes of someone rapidly climb up the rungs leading from the legs to the top hatch. He barely had time to put his hands up in a gesture of surrender before Aurora had opened the hatch, staring daggers at him as he offered a cheesy grin.

“Aurora… May I say, you’re looking beautiful today.” He said, his tone warm and friendly.

“Get the fuck out of my mech.” She growled back in response.

“Yep, okay that’s fair. Getting out.”

He climbed out of the cockpit, bringing himself to stand over the open hatch at the top of the Squire as he looked out to see two blood orange suns hanging low in the horizon, perched atop a nearby mountain range. He let his thoughts run wild, reflecting on the past few months that had brought him to this strange world, and the stranger circumstances he’d found himself in.

There had been little fanfare when Cameron had departed Ketris. Instead of tears and heartfelt goodbyes, he’d been met with hard alcohol and bureaucratic red tape. Ironically enough, the process to make someone cease to exist came with quite the paper trail. From forfeiture of all his prospective assets, to the changing of his name from Cameron Pellyn, to Cam Ket, the process took ages before it was finally complete. They had spent nearly a month in Earth controlled space, waiting for the confirmation, most of that time spent on wallowing in self pity and despair. So long he’d spent in a drunk and depressed stupor, he didn’t once stop to think about memorizing the image of his homeworld. Once Sybil had relayed that Earth’s part of the process was complete, Logan had slipped them from the Pirou system faster than Cameron could take one last look at the planet he’d called home all his life, and say goodbye.

And now, after further time spent waiting in anxious concern, he was here. Free space. The part of the galaxy where many dreamed of, but few dared to go. He had to take a deep breath, inhaling fresh air from a planet that wasn’t his own, as a sliver of excitement surfaced from the bile of despair and hate that had festered inside of him these last few weeks. It warmed him, and for the first time in a long while, he felt something he was worried he’d never be able to feel again… optimism. That optimism was swiftly replaced by annoyance as he heard Aurora clear hear throat and speak, snapping him away from his romanticized reflection.

“You gonna keep standing there like an asshole all day?” She asked, hands on her hips and an eyebrow raised, “Or are you gonna climb off so I can actually get to work?”

Cameron felt his eye twitch, and he had to fight the urge to push the little shithead off the ten meter tall mech, grinding his teeth as he replied. “You, are a very mean mechanic.”

“And you’re a shit pilot,” She shot back without missing a beat, “Any other informed tid bits you care to share or are we just going to stand here stating facts all day?”

“Why do you hate me Aurora? What did I ever do to you?”

“You keep wrecking my Squire.”

“This a hostile work environment,” He said, walking past her and descending down the ladder rungs, marching off to a nearby container situated at the corner of the compound. He flung open the door where his eyes settled on Logan and Marcus who were huddled over a digital topography display, speaking in a hushed tone. Their heads turned in unison, meeting Cameron’s gaze.

“Do we really need that little asshole?” Cameron asked, thumbing the direction where Aurora and his Squire currently stood. “I mean really, we can’t find another A.R.M.S. mechanic in Free Space who isn’t so verbally abusive?”

Logan chuckled, his lips curling into an impish grin. “Did you wreck again?”

“That’s not the point.” Cameron said quickly, his cheeks heating in embarrassment. “Besides, the turning radius on that thing is way too soft, it feels like I’m nearly going to topple over anytime I need to make a sharp turn, which is practically constant in a forest that dense.”

“Still?” Logan asked, straightening his posture as he stood upright, “Even after Aurora’s adjustments? How many times you ran the course?”

“Three.”

Logan whistled audibly and looked past Cameron to view the Mech outside, as well as Aurora who was loudly cursing as she sparked a welding torch. His eyes drifted back to Cameron as he gave a simple shrug. “It’s probably the unit itself if I’m being honest with you. Squire’s are cheap and easy to maintain, but they lack the full spectrum of Modification options that more advanced units have.”

Cameron audibly groaned in frustration, looking exasperated as he spoke again, “So what do we do about it then?”

“That is currently what we’re trying to figure out Master Cameron.” Marcus spoke up, drawing both Cameron’s and Logan. His eyes widened suddenly as his own words registered with him, sputtering as he tried to correct himself. “I- I mean-”

Cameron cut him off, holding up a hand. There was a look of sympathy on the older man’s face, a twinge of melancholy that Cameron supposed was due to the fact he’d inadvertanly brought up the recent past, and the fresh would of pain that still lingered within all of them.

“It’s alright Marcus. Old habits die hard yeah?” Cameron said, offering a genuine smile before continuing. “But I’m no one’s master anymore. I’m no one’s noble. Just say Cameron from now on. Or Cam if you want to be proper about it.”

Marucs nodded in understanding, before swiftly and expertly changing the subject. “As I was saying, we’re currently working on a solution to your… Squire problem.”

“Oh?” Cameron asked, looking slightly confused. “How do you mean?”

“It’s a three step process kid. Logan said, jumping back into the conversation. “Step one, secure some extra cash. Step two, get you threaded. And step three, get you into an actual A.R.M.S. unit. From there we can start doing actual contracts instead of having to scrape the bottom of the barrel for the scraps even Alpha Classes won’t touch.”

“Alpha Classes?” Cameron asked, but Logan waved him off.

“Not important right now, we’ll go over that down the line.” He said, walking back tto the table to pick up a stack of four manilla folders. “For now, just know that these are the jobs available to us right now, and it’s only just barely, because of there’s a threaded pilot amongst us, that being me. Now I know you’re still getting your feet wet here, and as such I’ve been working with Marcus to pick one that we feel is appropriate for your skill level, and is worth the time to actually do it.”

“Okay…” Cameron said, looking between the two men. “So what do you need me to do?”

“Right now I need you to wait until Aurora is finished fixing that squire,” Logan said, pointing out to where the mechanic was. “After that, I need to you run this obstacle course without crashing. If you can’t avoid a tree in an enclosed space at high speed, then how can I expect you to operate when we’re chasing down bogey’s trying to use cover to wear you down?”

Cameron sighed heavily, his body already aching at the prospect of going back out again, “Alright, fair enough.”

“We’ll be out there soon,” Logan assured him, patting his shoulder. “Once I see you can do the boring stuff, then we can get to the fun shit and start making some money.”

Cameron nodded, turning away to hide him rolling his eyes. He stepped once again, offering a wave behind him as he mentally prepared for failing once again.

“I can hardly wait boss.”

---

Cameron took his time piloting the Squire up the steep ridge slope towards the start of the agility course. Frustrations aside, the ascension part of the process was something he genuinely enjoyed. Looking out about the pine trees from the windshield of his mech, Cameron could get a bird's-eye view of the Ru’Dan’s forested landscape. The planet itself was small, nearly a quarter the size of Ketris, and had been terraformed only a century ago, leaving a tiny patch of land of around one thousand kilometers as the habitable land among the rolling waves of black ocean water. The air was engineered to be cooler, and a thick fog was permanently rolling through the area of the valley they were camped out in, surrounded in all directions by tall craggy mountains and insulated by blackwood pines.

This was a place straight out of a piece of art. A breathtaking landscape so few had ever laid eyes on. It was a shame that its beauty only lasted until Cameron reached the peak of the ride, turning the Squire to look down a steep drop off leading into the forest below. He sighed heavily, before flicking the mic down on the headset, tuning the frequency to broadcast to Logan’s audiocaster.

“Alright. I’m here,” He said wearily. “Let me know when you have visual.”

There was a few moments of dead air before the merc’s gruff voice crackled into Cameron’s headset. “Alright kid, I got eyes on. Let’s see what you got. Here’s hoping you don’t kiss a tree branch going eighty.”

“Yeah… Here’s hoping.”

Cameron took a moment, gathering himself, imagining the long path leading down from where he currently stood, to the finish line. His wrecks had be around the same area every time, around the halfway mark, so if he made it past that section, he still had a few kilometers to go before reaching the finish line.

“But that's a problem for future me,” he whispered to himself, as ready as he could be. With a sigh, he gripped both steering yokes, pushing the throttle to its limit as the Squire burst forth off its high perch, rocketing down the embankment at nearly a hundred kilometers an hour. He felt the metallic rumbling of the mech’s pounding feet even out into a smooth vibration as the boosters on the bottom of its feet switched on, transitioning into a high-speed skating glide as he broke into the treeline.

“Well, there’s your issue,” Logan’s voice crackled over the headset, fighting to be heard above the high-pitched hum of Squire’s boosters, “You’re coming in like a bat out of hell into the treeline. How do you expect to dodge shit when you’re full throttle like that?”

Cameron didn’t respond verbally, instead, Logan receieved his answer by watching the kid go to work, looking through a set of high-powered binoculars to see Cameron beginning to weave in and out between the trees with ease. He didn’t avoid the obstacles as much he seemed to glide around them, flexing and molding the Squire’s usually uncompromising size to suit his needs, keeping his speed up while dipping left and right through the smallest of openings. Logan’s jaw dropped open in shock, going to switch his headset off, and turning to Marcus who had a similar look on his face as he too watched through his own set of binoculars.

“Are you seeing this shit?” Logan asked the former servant, unable to take his eyes off Cameron’s prodigious piloting skill.

“He’s fast,” Marcus said under his breath, barely above a whisper. “H-How in the world…”

“I’m just as confused as you are… He’s treating that squire like a scout class,” Logan said, continuing to watching, unblinking as Cameron approached a large pine, beset on both sides by a series of giant boulders. If he had to guess, this was the spot where he’d wrecked so many times, evident by the streaks of paint on the bark, and the splintered cracks at the base. He could feel his mouth go dry as he realized the kid wasn’t letting up. In fact, he seemed to increase his speed. Logan was sure Cameron was redlining the Squire now, flicking his headset down to speak into it.

“Cameron you need to slow it down, you’re not going to have time to-”

He stopped, mid-sentence, unable to continue his coaching as he saw the Squire leap into the air, turning sideways as it slid between to opening of the tree and the boulder. The ten meter tall mech landed with a thunderous rumble, the boosters in its feet already going full blast, allowing Cameron to slide down the mountain reminiscent of the snowboards from the classical Earth sport.

It was silent then, save for Cameron whose voice came out clearly over the headset for all to hear.

“Hell yeah! Finally!”

Logan and Marcus looked at each other, expressions of shock on both of their faces, before Logan cleared his throat finally finding his voice.

“Kid… get your ass back to base. Now.”

---

Cameron was all smiles as he pulled to a stop outside of the garage, not even letting the Squire fully power down before he’d popped up from the top hatch, watching Logan and Marcus hurry over to him at a brisk jog. He smiled wild, holding his arms up triumphantly.

“Did you see that?! Please tell me you saw that.” He said, looking at Logan.

“I saw you treat a giant four ton mass of steel and hydraulics like it was a hover racer,” Logan said, his tone chastising, though even he couldn’t hide the grin the stretched itself across his face. “When the hell did you learn to do that?”

Cameron shrugged, before climbing down the rungs towards solid ground, speaking as he descended. “I watched the booster activate a few weeks ago, while Aurora was testing their output. Figured if I could navigate the course while going full tilt, then I should have no problem doing it without. All my wrecks happened while I was trying to navigate that tree and boulder section, but as you can see, I’ve found a viable solution.”

Logan turned to see a clearly irritated Aurora, staring daggers at Cameron. “So this is your fault eh?”

“My fault?!” She shouted in response, looking incredulous. “He’s the one running the boosters so hot, they’re likely fused to the feet, and this is my fault?”

Logan shrugged pointing in Cameron’s direction, “Yeah but he did something awesome so I can forgive that.”

Aurora’s mouth dropped open as she made a shrill squeak of disbelief, before storming off in a huff muttering to herself. “Idiots. I am surrounded by idiots.”

Cameron watched the mechanic go before looking back at Logan, who was shaking with laughter. There was an electricity that went through him, making it hard to keep his happiness hidden, as his body remembered the excitement of the course. “So I take it I did well?”

Logan wiped a tear from his eye as he nodded, turning his gaze to look at Cameron. “Kid, in all my years, I’ve never seen someone pilot a Squire like that. If you’re half as good in an actual A.R.M.S. unit, then… by the stars. I can’t even fathom it. Especially at Alpha class? Forget about it.”

Cameron watched as Logan practically salivated at the prospect of the high-paying jobs they could pull off in the future, leaving it up to Cameron to be the one to stay on topic for once. “Speaking of which, didn’t I hear you say that if I could clear that course, then we could take a job?”

Logan’s eyes went wide for a moment, before he nodded. “Oh, yeah, that’s right. Let me just -” He looked around his person, searching for something before the clearing of a throat drew both his and Cameron’s gaze to Marcus, who was standing before them holding up a manilla folder.

“I believe you’re looking for this,” He said, handing the folder to Logan, “You left it on the observatory when he came in.”

“Is that it?” Cameron asked pointing at the folder, to which Logan nodded with a smirk.

“Yes it is kid. You’re first contract,” He walked over and handed Cameron the folder before continuing to speak, “We already called it in and agreed to take it. We’re gonna pack up the essentials tonight and meet the client planet side in two days.”

Cameron raised an eyebrow in surprise. “Really? Damn, you move quick. You sure this is something I can do?”

Logan nodded definitively, “Absolutely. It’s an easy job, with decent pay and a promise of relatively simple combat to get your feet wet. Besides, Ill be right there next to you should things go south.”

“Seems to good to be true,” Cameron said, leafing through the opening briefing. “What exactly are we doing?”

Logan’s grin widened, “Pest control.”

Cameron didn’t get a good look at the planet Qal’Gar when the Fenris pulled into the system from slip space. Nor did he have time to take in the landscape when they landed planet side, before he and Logan were escorted from the ship into a docking tube that led into the Syl-Tech Biotechnical Research Laboratory. Even as the guards ushered them and a few other pairs of pilots into a sterile conference room, illuminated by a bright white light, he was dissapointed to see there were no windows in the room, only three milk white walls, and a large black screen that functioned as the fourth. The only evidence he used to get a grasp of the area of operation was from the briefing packed he’d read on the trip to the planet describing a lush tropical rainforest and the attire of the other pilots, all of which were wearing clothing similar to Logan, a mixture of combat fatigues or cargo pants with compression shirts.

It was at that point, that he realized the eyes on him now, as more than a handful of people were observing his strange attire of a tunic and trousers, looking out of place and out of time amongst the hardened soldiers.

“I really need to get a change of wardrobe…” He said softly, loud enough that only Logan could hear as he spied a gaggle of pilots pointing in his direction, chuckling with amusement. He sighed and turned to look at Logan who’s nose was deep inside of the briefing packet for what must have been the third time today.

“Are you listening?” He asked, to which Logan replied with a nod.

“Yes…” Logan said drolly, not looking up from the packet, “I heard you clearly. You want to look like a pilot and not some backwater bumpkin.”

Cameron’s eye twitched in annoyance, and he ground his teeth, letting out an annoyed grumble, his eyes trailing down to the packet where Logan had it flipped to the initial overview with the words containment breach circled in red ink. He raised any eyebrow, speaking up voice his curiosity, “Why are you reading that, anyway? We’ve been over it like five times before coming here.”

Logan slowly looked up, his face passive as responded, “I’m trying to formulate a plan.”

“You don’t think the person who put this all together has a plan?” Cameron shot back, looking incredulous.

“I’m sure they do,” Logan said, skepticism evident in his voice, “But, I’m also sure it’s a shit plan.”

“And what makes you think that?” Cameron asked, looking around the room. “I mean, this place seems pretty high tech, I’m going to assume they’re smart enough to put a tactical plan together.”

“Yes, they are,” Logan began, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But they’re going to plan on getting back what they want, not making sure we survive. To them that just means they have to pay us. Why the hell would they care what happens to a bunch of mercs as long as the job gets done?”

Cameron’s eyes go wide in understand as he nodded, following along, “So you’re making an exit strategy in case things go south.”

Logan nodded in confirmation, before his eyes went back to looking at the packet, his voice rising back to its usual volume. “I just can’t figure out what the hell it is that breached containment.”

“Perhaps I can be of use in answering that question.” A tinny metallic voice, devoid of emotion rang out behind them, drawing all eyes to the doorway where… something stood. It was humanoid, that much was for certain, with a masculine voice and silhouette that remained hidden underneath a series of flowing white robes, sterile in appearance and devoid of dust or stains. But that was where the similarities ended. Its head and hands, being the only body parts visible, appeared to be made of an opaque gray plastic. The head was bald and smooth, lacking any facial features, replaced instead with a series of colorful lights blinking periodically underneath the casing, as copper circuitry pulsed rhythmically around the head and neck.

All was silent as everyone stared at the figure, to which it responded with a silence of its own, its head turning as it slowly scanned the room. After several awkward moments it spoke again, the lights inside of it pulsing in tandem with every syllable.

“You seem… shocked,” It said, cocking its head to the side as if to study the group, “Does my appearance frighten you? Or is it mere confusion?”

“I think a little of both,” A nasally voice rang out from Cameron’s left, and the figure nodded curtly.

“Understandable. I assume you were expecting someone more… biological?” The being asked, as Cameron and everyone else nodded in answer. It gave another curt nod, stepping through the threshold and causing the door to slide shut with a low-toned hiss.

“Acknowledged. I apologize for any confusion… allow me to introduce myself,” It said, walking across the room and approaching the wall screen, all eyes following it as it did so.

“My name is PR-04X1, but you may call me ‘Proxy’. I am here as a representative of the Syl-Tech Corporation. None of our directors were available to speak with you at this time, so I have been assigned as your… proxy. Heh.” It’s blinking light flashed yellow as it made an attempt at a joke.

“Hold on a second now,” A gruff, bear of a man with matted, wild, neon red hair chimed in, leaning forward in his chair, speaking in a rumbling baritone. “I’ve read the briefing front and back, and everything points to yall’s fault for this… containment breach. Yet Syl-Tech can even bother to show up here in person, instead making us do business with a glorified calculator?”

“You must be new,” Another man responded to the red heads outburst. He was lean and toned, with shoulder-length blonde hair hiding half of his face and spoke in an amused and pompous tone, “To think a company listed on the galactic fortune five hundred is going to send a chairman down here for a few Alpha classes and a bunch of Squires. Absurd.”

The red head sat back for a moment and crossed his arms muttering to himself something that sounded like, “I was just asking…” before Proxy held up its hands to silence the murmurs, it’s glow taking on a calming baby blue.

“Gentlemen, allow me to assure you that my presence here does not a lack of understanding as to the severity of this situation on Syl-Tech’s part. It is quite the opposite. In actuality, the fact you are all gathered here is proof that we at Syl-Tech will take every precaution necessary to write a wrong caused in one of our labs. Allow me to also note, that Syl-Tech does not claim responsibility for this breach and in fact places all blame with the ex-employee who was present at the time of the breach. Syl-Tech has acted in good faith to handle this incident after said ex-employee was unable or unwilling to do so, due to physical expiration.”

Cameron leaned over, eyes still on Proxy as he whispered into Logan’s ear. “What the hell does physical exp-”

“They killed him,” Logan shot back in a hushed growl, answering Cameron’s question before he could finish.

“Oh.”

“Now, if there are no more questions,” Proxy said, clapping its hands together as the wall screen glowed to life. “Allow me to start with a presentation.”

---

As the lights dimmed and the wall screen hummed to life, the once corporate and serene environment was replaced with one of anxiety and a twinge of fear, when a monster appeared on the monitor. It was a still image of a creature in a high walled enclosure, with height lines marking the walls. It was a solid mass of bulging muscle underneath a coat of shiny black fur. The beast was hunched over, supporting its weight on its knuckles, its head cresting at the seven meter line. Four large tusks protruded from a maw of jagged teeth as it stared death into the camera with blood-red eyes. But the worst part for Cameron, was that he could swear the creature was… smiling.

“May I present to you Simiiformes Stygius,” Proxy began, speaking in a tone devoid of all emotion, “Or as we here at Syl-Tech call it; The Stygian Silverback.”

The screen dimmed before brightening once again, showing another slide, this one of the Silverback’s anatomy with side-by-side figures depicting, bones as wide as an adult human, and overlapping suite of a fibrous taught muscle, respectively.

“An amalgamation of the Silverback Gorilla from earth and cocktail of local predatory fauna,” Proxy continued, “These creatures were the result of genetic engineering seeking to fill a need, primarily, how can poorer planets who can’t afford A.R.M.S. pilots protect themselves? We at Syl-Tech sought to solve that issue and in our search, we settled on the concept of a biological A.R.M.S. unit so to speak.”

Another slide transition came in dead silence as most were too shocked to speak. The new slide depicted certain organs and steroids that were used in creating the beasts, as Proxy continued his spiel, the concept sounding more absurd and terrifying with every item listed.

“Its hide is fireproof, plasma proof, resistant to all forms of bladed instruments, and houses bodily fluids that are toxic to human touch. It’s grip strength is strong enough to crush diamonds, and has enough bite force to chew through tungsten. Lastly, it has been engineered to function without brain activity for up to two minutes, meaning that even if it were to be decapitated, the creature could theoretically take vengeance on it’s killer before fully expiring.”

“By the stars,” One of the mercs off to Cameron’s left said, loud enough for all to hear. “Can the fuckers breath underwater?”

“That was a planned feature for after beta testing,” Proxy said matter-of-factly, looking back toward the screen that showed a series of graphs and pie charts.

“If you’ll look here, you’ll see the average cost of your standard Alpha class A.R.M.S. pilot. Naturally this is just a standard rate, but variations can apply depending on contract length or complexity. If you’ll look over here, you’ll see that because of production costs and sustainability thanks to cryogenics, we can offer our product at a thirty percent discount while maintaining a sixty percent higher profit margin when compared to your standard mechanical units. At least, that was the plan, until about two days ago.”

There was one final slide that appeared, this one showing a large hole in the creature’s enclosure, leading to the outside world. Blood splatter coated various spots along the wall, staining its white color to a sickly scarlet hue.

“One of our monitors, the people in charge of keeping the creature fed and contained, accidentally opened the barrier, revealing the outside world. Now up till this point, the Silverback had only seen the inside of it’s enclosure from birth till now. It wasn’t aware of anywhere else, we can only assume that seeing the outside for even the briefest of moments caused it to go into a confused tantrum, as only a few moments after the mistake had been rectified, it was banging on the walls, attempting to get out. We sent in a team of animal experts to hopefully tranquilize the beast, but as you can see, the results were… unsatisfactory.”

The slide show ended, with the final image fading to a dark black as the lights came back on, and Cameron looked around, seeing a myriad of emotions on display. There was shock, trepidation, anxiousness, and a cold, calloused, calm that was shared by a few pilots, one of them being Logan who leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, speaking aloud for the first time since Proxy had entered the room.

“So, just so I understand this correctly,” He began, his deep growl of a voice sounding even more annoyed than usual, “You and your organization decided to undercut the fleet and Alpha class pilots by creating a giant fucking demon gorilla, and whore it out to poor free space planets, but before you could do that, one of your employees screwed up and showed the abomination that its little terrarium wasn’t the only place around, and it decided to go for a little stroll. You all tried to tranq it, but instead of just having a giant hole in your building, you have a giant hole and five corpses. So now, you call in the very people you were trying to undercut in the first place to clean up the mess that was made in the process of trying to steal our livelihood. Am I missing anything?”

“Only that there is a time limit on this contract,” Proxy said, not bothering to correct Logan’s statements. “The government of Qal’Gar has done us a favor by keeping news of the containment breach out of the local media due to the fact that the island is uninhabited as far as we are aware. But the warned us that this would only last so long before they would intervene with their own forces. Should that happen and Syl-Tech’s involvement become known, our credibility in this sector will be non-existent as will be your pay. As of this very moment, you have approximately twelve hours to find and terminate the creature in order to complete the contract in full.”

A series of groans and jeers erupted from the crowd, but Logan simply stared at the faceless representative, before, with a shrug, he stood and stretched with Cameron following his lead.

“Sounds about right,” Logan said unenthusiastically, grabbing the briefing packet and pushing his chair in. “Well we ain’t got all day. Let’s go hunt us a monkey.”

“Gorilla,” Proxy said in a casual neutrality.

It was around an hour later that Cameron finally laid eyes on the Qal’Gari landscape, studying the lush tropical environment of thick foliage as he piloted the mech into the rainforest. It took only a few steps before the pink dawn sky was muted into a gray dusk filled with a precipitous mist, dripping off the high canopy of trees onto the windshield of his Squire. The air was hot and humid, fogging up the edges of Cameron’s only view port, while he wiped away the sweat practically pouring down his neck, paying careful attention not to topple over on the uneven and slippery terrain of the soggy, lichen covered earthen floor.

“Man,” Cameron said, his voice sounding breathless from the heavy heat, “You’d figure the mechanical geniuses who made these mechs would have had enough foresight to put a fucking air conditioner in here.”

“Preachin’ to the choir Cam,” A foreign voice, laced heavily with the accent of Earth’s North American continent crackled into Cameron’s headset, “Feels like I’m roasting alive like a thanksgiving turkey,”

“Royce… what the hell’s a turkey?” Another voice came across the radio, this one a nasally, annoyed timbre, reminiscent of the Noble accent of Ketris, but spoken at a much faster tempo.

“What you talkin’ bout, Cayde?” Royce asked, his drawl coming out slow and slurred. “Y’all aint got turkeys on Tsorias?”

“Obviously not, you drunken bumpkin!” The voice known as Cayde shouted back, his high-strung, aggressive rhetoric a stark contrast to Royce’s easy-going speech. He quickly recovered, with a sigh before speaking again, “I agree though Cam, it’s bullshit that we don’t. I feel like I’m gonna die from heatstroke before we even find this thing.”

“The sounds like a ‘you’ problem,” Logan’s familiar growl finally chimed in over the radio, “I feel completely fine, though that could be because threaded pilots have their body temperature regulated by their unit. I could stand over an active volcano, and I’d still feel cool and comfortable.”

“So it’s pilot privilege then,” Cayde said, “We just have to suck it up till we can afford to be threaded and get our own unit.”

“Exactly,” Logan said, matter-of-factly, “Now stop your bitch and clear comms. We’re getting deeper into the bush and I want your eyes peeled until we rendezvous.”

“Roger,” Cameron said,

“Fine,” Cayde sighed out,

“You got it Bossman,” Royce expounded,

To Cameron’s surprise, the rest of the mercs, while argumentative amongst each other, were fairly concerned with safety. They took a good half hour to discuss a plan of attack. It turned out that there were three threaded pilots on hand, two alpha classes and Logan who was a Beta class, all of which confused Cameron who was ignorant to the details and meanings of classes. What he could tell from context however, primarily the ooh’s and ah’s of the other pilots was that a Beta class like Logan demanded respect, to which the other pilots provided. They quickly deferred planning to him, allowing to make up the tactical approach and formations they would do as a group. This ended up being a rather simple endeavor; Each threaded pilot would be in charge of two Squire pilots while Logan, being the highest class would take three. The team who found and killed the beast would be the one to share he reward. This last part was met with a series of groans and exclamations, but seeing the other threaded pilots stand with Logan on this endeavor shut the other Squire’s up real quick as the group set to work.

Teams were quickly made and Cameron and Logan were joined by two men who couldn’t have been more different. Royce Carter, the tall, bear like red-head Cameron had seen during the briefing, was an Earthling and proud of it, particularly the North American continent he called him. His squire reflected this pride, being painted in red, white, and blue tiger stripes, while Cayde Tremayne, a twitchy mouse of a man was more subtle, his unit being a flat gunmetal gray. The pair had operated for the past several months, setting out together after, as per Royce’s words, they ‘ran into a little trouble down in Venus’ and had to leave for free space, absconding with a couple of ‘borrowed’ Squire’s attempting to strike their fortune.

Though partners in battle, the two of them had argued like an old married couple since the moment their comm channels were linked. Cameron would have thought it annoying if it wasn’t for the fact that the two of them were completely nice and courteous guys to everyone around except for each other. But now the fun part of the journey was over, the team carrying out the operation in silence, save for the humming vibrations and hissing hydraulics of their Squire units.

That was until, Cayde’s voice crackled out over the radio, sounding more like a hushed whisper than his usual nasally annoyance.

“Guys,” He said, “I think I found something… or rather… something found me,”

“What do you mean?” Logan asked, and it was silent for a few moments until Cayde felt brave enough to respond, barely audible over the static in the headset.

“I mean… something is following me. It’s trying to match the pace of my squire, muffling its movement by timing its steps with mine. The only reason I noticed anything is cause I sent out a thermal scan and got pinged twenty-five meters off to my right. The think was looking directly at me through the bush, and it was mimicking my pace.”

Cameron felt his stomach knot with fear. There was something unsettling in Cayde’s words. The Silverback was frightening enough from the briefing, but knowing that it was smart enough to think of something so peculiar, yet effective, made him feel… small. Vulnerable. A chill crept up the lower part of his spine, despite the sweltering heat in the cockpit, and he had to force himself to get it together, shaking his head to clear it before speaking into the headset.

“Cayde, ping your location while maintaining your pace. We don’t want the thing to realize it’s been discovered and freak out.”

“Roger,” Cayde said quickly, before a translucent, blinking red dot appeared on the bottom of Cameron’s windshield, with an arrow above it indicating to him to turn in that direction. Doing so, the arrow quickly faded, replaced instead by the numbers two, six, and zero, with the last number increasing by one after a few moments.

“I’m about two-sixty out,” Cameron said, slowly pushing the throttle forward to increase his speed. “I’m en route now,”

“I’m only one-fifty,” Royce chimed in, “Hold on buddy, we’ll be there soon.”

“I’m nearly a klick out,” Logan said with a grumbling sigh, “Y’all will be on your own for a couple minutes while I navigate over, try not to get yourselves killed.”

All of these statements were answered, not over the radio, but through the outside ambience as a thunderous, earth-shaking roar rang out from Cayde’s direction, so powerful it vibrated the glass of Cameron’s squire.

“Guys!” Cayde called out, his voice cracking from fear, “I think he’s freaking out!”

“Shit,” The other three said in unison.

---

It didn’t take long for Cameron to reach full speed, even within the choking confines of the rainforest. Within seconds, he felt the familiar rumble of the boost jets kicking on, whipping him through the forest floor at a blistering speed, gliding on or around obstacles with natural fluid motions. He rapidly closed the distance between himself and Cayde, who seemed to be situated in an open glade, judging by the sunlight breaking through the treeline, and the sound of a roaring waterfall filling the dead air between the sounds of claws scraping on metal and frustrated animalistic grunts. With a flare of his boost jets he burst through the treeline, having to squint as bright light hit his eyes, leaving him squinting away stars as he took in his surroundings.

There was Cayde, a mere twenty meters away, on his back and straddled by a black furred beast. It’s jaw was opened unnaturally wide, chipped and jagged teeth trying to find purchase on the shield Cayde had shoved into it, while the beast unloaded a salvo of crazed, primal strikes to Squire’s torso.

“Cayde!” Royce called, crashing through an outcropping of trees off to Cameron’s right only a second after he arrived, likely uncomfortable with moving as fast as Cameron had to get there.

“L-Little help… here.. guys?!” Cayde shouted into the headset through gritted teeth, straining as the Silverback howled out a cry of pain and hunger, redoubling its efforts and inching its jaw closer, the hydraulics in Cayde’s shield arm squealing in protest as they compressed against their will.

Cameron didn’t hesitate, redlining the throttle and putting his jets on full blast, rocketing forward at a blistering speed. He dropped low and drew back on his sword, waiting until he was mere inches away, the body of the beast appearing more like a black furred mountain than the torso of an animal, before he struck. His sword arm shot out like a piston, burying the blade halfway into the Silverback’s side under the ribcage. The beast howled in pain and anger, but Cameron wasn’t done yet, redlining the throttle and leaning into his shoulder to drive the creature off of Cayde’s Squire, sending it sprawling.

Royce didn’t question Cameron’s technique, deciding instead to follow up on the opening his new comrade had created. He dashed forward, leaping high into the air thanks the lift provided by the boost jets on the back of the squire. He rose to nearly to nearly twenty meters before leaning back, pulling a foot up high and plummeting to the ground like the four ton stone he was, slamming into the creatures back with his foot.

The hollow crack of ribs being broken followed by the groans of an injured animal filled the air along with a spray of dirt and blood. Royce’s twang filled Cameron’s ears as the earthling stomped on the beasts back while peppering in a few shallow stabs from his sword.

“How’s… that… dirt…taste…you…overgrown…monkey?!” He said, emphasizing every word with another vicious stomp.

A thin smile dared to slowly spread across Cameron’s lips. Had they really done it? Just like that? He lowered his power output, feeling the hum of his boost jets settle into their low-power mode, and stated to walk over, and help Cayde to his feet before heading over to where Royce stood over the body of the twitching Silverback.

“Damn,” Cameron said into the headset, excitement evident in his voice. “That was easier than I thou-,”

A loud clang echoed through the air, cutting Cameron off and dropping his smile in an instant. Royce had stopped stomping on the creature, but it wasn’t of his own volition. A large part of it had to do with the giant, black furred fist that gripped his foot. With a roar and a hard yank, the beast had switched places with the earthling, toppling his Squire over and standing above him, gripping the foot of his mech tight in vice like fingers, like a child would a safety blanket.

All was quiet for a moment as the creature looked around, eyes burning with confusion, pain, and hatred. It looked at Cayde and Cameron, snarling, before focusing its attention on Royce as he struggled to free himself from the beast’s clutches. It bellowed, pounding its chest with its free fist while pulling higher up on the leg, dragging the mech through the sodden dirt like it weighed nothing.

“Oh you just had to fucking say that didn’t yo-” Royce, didn’t a chance to finish question before the Silverback had turned and in one swift motion, slammed him down hard, planting him into the ground with such strength, the impact made a crater outlining Royce’s now out of comission Squire.

The beast turned back focusing on the other two units, red eyes blazing with an anger so deep and primal that Cameron felt as if he was staring directly into the eyes. As if it could read his mind, the Silverback hunched low, leaping forward faster than Cameron could react. He could have sworn his life was going to flash before him, but before he could reach the point of self-reflection, a flash of white and red broke through his periphery. Logan’s towershield connected with the creature’s face at nearly two hundred kilometers per hour, flying into a nearby treeline, turning the once might giants of the forest into splintered stumps.

“Y’know kid…” Logan said nonchalantly, his voice oozing confidence even over the radio, “Why does it always seem like I have to be the one to save your ass?”

Cameron sputtered for a second, finally finding his bearings, “Look, it wasn’t my fault,”

“Yes it was…” Royce said in a pain induced whimper.

“He’s right,” Logan said, “You did say the one thing you’re never supposed to say.”

“Look can we talk about blame later?!” Cameron shouted, more annoyed than anything, now that he know Royce was alive. “We’re still on the job if you hadn’t fucking noticed.”

“Oh I noticed,” Logan said, pointing with his mace into the now demolished treeline where the Silverback had struggled to its feet, before leaning back and howling in anger, pounding its chest with two massive fists.

“Alright, Logan,” Cameron said, flaring his throttle wide open, “What’s the plan?”

He could hear the smile in Logan’s voice as the Crusader walked in front of his Squire, cutting line of sight between Cameron and the beast.

“The plan is you’re going to stay out of my way, and watch me go to work. It’s been a minute since I got a decent workout in.”

Logan felt the familiar rush of adrenaline creep up his spine as he stared down the Stygian Silverback. He flexed his arms back and forth, feeling the familiar pull of the tether spikes tugging gently through his threads. He felt like a coiled spring ready to burst forth at any moment. Hunching low and positioning the now dented tower shield between himself and the animal, Logan cut off the radio feed between himself and the others with a thought, speaking aloud only when he was sure that it was just Vic who could hear him.

“Give me an x-ray scan, Vic,” he said, not taking his eyes off the Silverback, “I wanna see if these amateurs actually did anything useful.”

“Right away, Sir,” The posh V.I. exclaimed, and Logan felt a strange sensation at the back of his eyes before the beast suddenly turned transparent, its skeleton now visible to him.

The bones themselves were thick and dense, and incredibly resilient as far as he could tell. There were a few openings he could see though. Five ribs were cracked on the left side, compressing on the beast’s organs, and It’s spine had stress fractures, running the length of the discs. The one thing that made Logan smile though, was a series of cracks, snaking their way along the right side of the beasts pelvic bone, converging into an epicenter that was just dying to meet his mace.

“Alright… let’s do the damn thing.” He said, relaxing his grip on the Physilight rod controlling his shield arm and banging the flanges of his mace on its surface, attempting to goad the creature into making the first move.

The beast growled, resting its weight on its knuckles as it hunched low, snorting a blast of hot air out of its nostrils. It seemed confused at first, turning its head side to side in a manner of innocent query. But after a while it’s lips pulled back showing off a row of jagged teeth, before making a series of grunting shrieks, like a challenge.

“That’s it you big bastard,” Logan whispered to himself, banging on his shield at a faster pace, meeting the creatures sound of challenge, “Come on over and say hi,”

The creature had had enough, as it leaned back on its two powerful legs, before, with a mighty roar it leaped high in the air, shooting through the open space between it and Logan like a bullet leaving a chamber.

“That’s right! Come get me!” Logan growled with glee, back boosters on his crusader firing on full blast as he rushed to meet the beast halfway. As he calculated, he reached the Silverback faster than the creature expected, as it was still outstretching its hands and opening its maw, when Logan cracked it in the face with the flangers of his mace, grunting with an effort as he powered through, guiding the beast to crash into the ground.

That wasn’t enough to put the thing down however, as it rolled into the impact, popping up directly in front of Logan and wrapping its massive arms around the Crusader’s body, keeping him place as it fell on its side, pulling Logan with it, with both man and beast hitting the ground like two felled trees. Logan tried to free himself, but the ape squeezed him hard before opening its maw and sinking its massive fangs into the Crusader’s collarbone, spraying oil and hydraulic fluid everywhere.

“Gah! Fuck!” He cried, the synaptic feedback causing a spike of pain to erupt in the exact location where the beast had taken a chunk out of his armor. He tried struggling again to free himself but it was no use, and the beast turned, deciding to take an equal chunk out of the other side of Crusader’s chassis sending another hot flash of pain into Logan’s right shoulder.

Logan tasted iron in the back of his throat as he screamed again, “Fuck this!” He bellowed before delivering a bone cracking headbutt directly to the creatures temple. There was a low howl of pain that escaped the beasts throat and Logan could feel a slight weakening on his right side where the Silverback had pulled back on its arm to paw at its head. Logan took his chance, rolling out of the things grasp and scrambling to his feet, looking down as the creature continued to hold its head in its hands whimpering in pain.

“That sympathy shit ain’t gonna work on me,” Logan spat, taking his opening and swinging down in a wide arc to hit the creature’s pelvic bone full force. There was a crack, followed by a dull crunch, with the beast lifted off the ground by several meters due to the impact, before crashing back down, laying prostrate, its legs twitching uselessly.

The creature howled out again in a low whimpering bray as Logan walked around to the front, looking down at it. Blood leaked from every orifice as the thing tried to paw away from danger, seeing the true predator standing before it.

There was a feeling of pity that settled in Logan’s heart at the sight as his battle lust faded. It wasn’t this things fault for being created, nor was it at fault for escaping. It simply wanted to do what every other creature that drew breath wanted to do. Live. Be in a world bigger than itself, feel the dirt beneath it’s feet and the wind through it’s hair. But it didn’t get that. It wasn’t allowed to experience that peace. Instead, it had been hunted down, forcing it to fight for it’s life against beings it had never seen before in a fit of anger, confusion, and fear. And in the end, it had failed. Now it lay dying, suffering in unimagninable agony at the feet of a being that was probably as horrific to it, as it was to them. It wasn’t right and it wasn’t fair, but it was the way things were.

“I’m sorry big guy…” Logan said, his voice leaving the speakers in a soft, gentle tone. The creature looked up at him, eyes squiting through trails of tears and blood, trying to make sense of the sounds it had just heard.

Logan raised his mace, the spiked ball blocking out the sun, as he watched the creature coo in painful acceptance.

“I’ll make it quick.”

He brought the mace down hard, impacting with creature’s skull like meteor striking a planet. He didn’t look at the face as he raised the mace again, bringing it down in another heavy crash. Again and again he brough the mace down until even the Phyislight rod in his hand felt heavy and cumbersome, and the sounds of the dying beast had been silenced forever. He waited a few minutes longer, watching the creature’s body spasm to life again, it’s upper body flailing and pawing at anything around it to get away, before going still for the last time. The one might Stygian Silverback, reduced to nothing but a corpse on the forest floor.

Logan stood there, taking in the sight for a long while, getting his breathing under control. Finally, with a heavy sigh he sent a mental command and heard the celebrating chatter of the rest of his team as they congratulated him on a job well done.

---

The journey back to Syl-Techs research lab was quicker than Logan had hoped it would be. When the group had first set off to hunt down the Silverback, it seemed like an hour had passed before they’d actually found it. But now, it felt like they made it back before the blood could dry on Crusaders mace. For some reason, his mind kept replaying that look the creature had given him before Logan had bashed its brains out over and over. It was a unique condition for him, especially after having spent so long in the cockpit. He’d stopped trying to remember the units, or names of pilots he’d killed years ago. Hell, most of the time he didn’t even bother to remember the colors of a mechs paint scheme, or the planet he was on when he took a life. It didn’t matter. They weren’t people. They were faceless enemies hidden behind a wall of steel and hydraulics that wanted him dead. That, he could handle all day.

But this was different. Looking someone in the eyes as you take their life, was an act that stuck with you long after the event was over, even if that someone was a giant, genetically engineered killing machine.

“You alright man?” Cameron’s hushed voice of concern broke Logan from his thoughts. He looked up, realizing he’d been walking in silence for the past few minutes, locked in quiet contemplation as he and the rest of team left the docking bay and made their way through the maze of sterile white hallways, escorted by a pair of orderlies in similar white uniforms.

“Hm? Oh. Yeah, I’m good. Just trying to do some mental math is all.” He lied, flashing a grin as he changed the subject, “Need to make sure we get you threaded and a unit of your own without breaking the bank.”

A whistle came from the pairs right, as Logan turned to see Royce looking in their direction, his eyes wide in surprise.

“Damn, threaded and his own unit? You a sugar daddy or something? Cause I mean hey, I’ve been told I give great back rubs.”

Before Logan could even respond, Cayde had leveled a firm smack at the back of his partners head, looking equal parts annoyed and embarrassed, as Royce yelped in pain, “Ah, shit! What the hell man?!”

“Don’t mind Royce,” Cayde said, looking over at Logan, completely ignoring the cries of his companion, as he continued, “He’s got a bad habit of thinking he’s funny.”

“Fuck you I am funny.” Royce shot back, rubbing the back of his head where Cayde’s palm had struck.

“Sure you are,” Cayde said, “Like a lamp is funny, or a venereal disease.”

“What’s venereal mean?”

“You know… I’m not surprised you don’t know.”

“Look, I don’t know alot -”

“We know. This has been well established.”

“But I know an insult when I hear one!” Royce said, his voice rising as he took a step towards the mousy looking Cayde.

Cayde, to his credit matched the step with one of his own, making sure he got the last word in, “Really? What gave it away?”

Logan couldn’t help but laugh as the two continued to argue, hurling insults and swears back and forth so fast, it was impossible to follow who was actually winning. Naturally, he let the confrontation escalate just to the point when punches were getting ready to be thrown before he spoke up, stepping in between the two and separating them.

“Easy fellas, there’s no need for this to come to blows,” He began, his laughter finally dying down to a soft chuckle, “Cam is just a new employee of mine. My first one to be specific. Can’t exactly expect to be taken seriously as a GAC if I have my guys slumming it in a Squire now can I? The way I see it, it’s an investment, and I expect him to pay me back ten times over if things go as planned.”

“GAC?” Royce and Cameron asked in unison.

“Galactic A.R.M.S. Contractor,” Logan and Cayde answered together. They shared a look of amusement before Logan continued, “Anyways, yeah, long story short Cam works for me and because of that, an investment in his future is in investment in mine.”

“That makes sense,” Cayde acknowledged. There was a momentary silence as the four of them continued walking before he posed a question, “So, if you don’t mind my asking, you wouldn’t happen to have any more openings for pilots would you?”

Logan shook his head, offering a sympathetic look to the man, “Not right now I’m afraid. Me and the kid here have a previous arrangement so it makes sense. But I can’t afford to take on anyone else right now.”

Cayde frowned, looking dejected as his eyes turned to focus on the floor. Seeing this, Logan offered him a friendly nudge with his elbow, having the man meet his eyes as he offered a smile, “Ask me again in a couple of months when I actually have the GAC made and had us run a couple of ops. You have our radio frequency and I’ll give you my Captain’s Code so we can keep in contact.”

“Really?!” Cayde and Royce said in unison, excitement clearly heard in their tone, causing Logan to chuckle again with a nod.

“Sure thing. Good fighters are hard to find.”

“I couldn’t agree more, Mr. Rake,” A neutral, layered, robotic voice cut through the air like a knife, bleeding all the amusement and levity out in an instant.

The group turned to see Proxy standing there, hands clasped together in front of them, hidden underneath the baggy folds of its robes. Two more orderlies, each of which held two small purses in outstretched hands accompanied it on either side.

Logan’s smile dropped, his voice taking on its standard low growl, “I’m sure you do Proxy. Shame we had to put yours down.”

“A perfectly understandable consequence of an unfortunate situation,” Proxy said matter-of-factly. “However, there was indeed a silver lining I was able to scrape together thanks to you.”

“Thanks to me?” Logan asked, skepticism evident in his voice.

“Indeed,” Proxy confirmed with a nod, “Thanks to you mainly attacking the Silverbacks head, the body was left mainly intact, I’m confident in the ability of Syl-Techs genetic engineering team, that we can create a new prototype that will outstrip the previous asset in every way. More sensitive twitch muscles, denser bone structure, and a focus on obedience conditioning that we should never have this incident again.”

Logan felt his nose twitch as he tried not to snarl, having to stop himself from cracking his teeth with how hard he was grinding them. “It wasn’t an asset Proxy. It was a living creature, capable of feeling fear. Capable of cowering. I didn’t kill an asset. I killed a creature.”

Proxy shrugged, apathetic to Logan’s statement, “That’s something we can condition out, with enough experimentation I’m sure. But I wouldn’t wish to bore you with all the scientific details. I have your payment here, one lockbox of silver for each member of your team. Please accept this with the heartfelt thanks of the Syl-Tech corporation.”

Logan didn’t respond. He wanted to. He wanted to scream, to grab proxy and melt him down into a new chassis part to weld onto Crusader. He wanted to kill someone that deserved it. But he didn’t do any of those things. There was no point, and he knew that. So instead, he settled for the next best thing, snatching two of the purses, before tossing one to Cameron, calling out to him over his shoulder as he turned and made his way back to the docking bay.

“Come on Kid, let’s get the hell out of here.”

It was a day like any other. Cameron awoke with a start, bathed in a cold sweat from the nightmares that had ran through his mind the night before. He couldn’t remember which one it had been to jolt him awake, as there had been a revolving selection of past regrets and twisted memories these last few months since he’d left Ketris. He shook his head, clearing it of the fog that sleep brought on, and looked out the porthole to see if he could tell just where in the galaxy they were. His eyes widened as they were met not with the lonely void of deep space, but with the bright lights of spaceships. Thousands of them, from the smallest shuttle to the giant, city sized colony ships from the mother planet, all converged onto a single Asteroid that was about half as big as a standard planet, and wrapped tightly with a shield of shimmering purple energy.

“Woah…” He said breathlessly, watching the comings and goings of the various spacecraft as they docked at the asteroid, dipping inside the purple energy shield before a long tube rose from the rocky surface, likely functioning as an airlock or transport system. He continued to gaze for a few moments longer before a knock at his cabin door pulled his attention away, looking up just in time to be greeted by Logan, offering a slight smirk and pointing out the porthole.

“Well, what do you think?” He asked, taking a few steps inside the room.

“I'm still trying to figure out just what the hell it is,” Cameron said, his gaze returning to the asteroid once again. “Is it some kind of spaceport?”

“Not just a spaceport, Kid,” Logan said, clapping Cameron on his shoulder as he came to join him at the porthole. “That’s Arsius Station. It’s the largest port in Free-Space and the seat of power for the biggest GACs in the galaxy.”

This gave Cameron pause. He blinked and shook his head, almost as if he was unable to understand what he’d just heard. Then he turned to Logan, raising in eyebrow, “Wait, I thought there wasn’t any ruling power in Free-Space. Isn’t that kind of the point of planets being free?”

Logan’s smirk grew wider, and he shook his head, chuckling as he did so. “You got a lot to learn, kid. Which means I have a lot to teach you. Get your clothes on, we’re going shopping.”

---

It took a while before they could get the Fenris docked high above the asteroid and inspected by Arsius Station’s port authority, but soon enough, Cameron along with Logan and Aurora were allowed to exit the craft. Sure enough, one of the tubes Cameron had seen before rose up from one of the many craters on the surface and connected with their ship. There was a whiny hiss that echoed throughout the interior of the tube, and after a moment, a series of steps jutted out from the bottom, slowly lowering themselves like the escalators of ancient earth. The trio stepped on, allowing the gentle sloping descent to usher them down while Logan finally explained to Cameron the ins and outs of Free-Space.

“So, here’s the breakdown,” He began, leaning against the railing, “Free-Space came to be a long time ago, when corporations from Earth ventured out here, laid down roots in their respective systems and used prisoners as early colonizers right?”

“Yeah…” Cameron said slowly, unsure of where the man was going with the history lesson.

“Well,” Logan continued, “Seeing as how it’s basically human nature to fight and die over the dumbest shit, A.R.M.S. manufactures grew the most out of every type of corp out here. Dealing death was their business and business was ‘a-boomin’. However, while they had the method, they didn’t necessarily have the means. See, there was a time when threaded pilots weren’t as rare or… independent as they are today.”

“What do you mean?” Cameron asked, looking back at Logan as they slow approached the bottom the moving staircase, stepping into a long tunnel of stone, dimly lit by a series of wall lights drilled into the wall on either side, and spaced out every few meters.

“I mean,” Logan said, stepping off and taking the lead next to Aurora, looking over his shoulder as they walked down the tunnel, heading to entrance for the station proper, “That being a pilot used to not be a choice. Corps would often take the youngest and most fit of their workforce, graft uplink threads on them, and send them off to fight… casualty rates be damned.”

“What the fuck?” Cameron said, unable to stop himself. “That’s horrible!”

Logan simply nodded, speaking louder as the sounds of conversation and trade met their ears the closer they got to the end of the tunnel. “Yeah, the pilots thought so too. So, they unionized. Now at first the Corps didn’t care. Demands for better pay and working conditions were met with laughter and feet-dragging. So, finally having enough, the pilots left. They became the very first GACs.”

“But wait a second,” Aurora said, chiming in for the first time since they left the ship, “The companies just let the leave? Just like that? With all those suits?”

Logan shrugged, “I don’t think ‘let’ is the right word here. They didn’t really have a choice. When I say shit was bad for pilots, I mean bad. You really think they were going to run the risk of making more units and pilots to try and get their shit back, just for those same guys to leave too?”

“Fair point..” She said.

“Indeed. So now you had a bunch of freelance pilots running around, pulling jobs for the highest bidder. No shit pay or corporate fuckery to deal with, no decade long contracts of work, and no lack of mental of physical health services. Pretty soon, the remaining Corp pilots wanted a piece of the action, so they left too. Cue a couple decades of negotiations and contracts between the GACs, Corps, and EarthGov, and now you have this…”

The tunnel finally ended and opened up into what could only be described as a mech utopia. The first thing that Cameron noticed was just how massive and populated the interior was. Repair shops and parts merchants lined the walls, going up what must have been a dozen levels and wrapping around a slow-moving sidewalk, stretching far off into that distance which must have been kilometers away. Neon lights bathed the space in a series of pinks, purples, blues, and yellows, and Cameron couldn’t tell if it was from the storefront signage or from the twinkling artificial stars that hung suspended in the middle of the space, slowly drifting up and down a large shaft that was the centerpiece of station itself.

Words had left him at this point, he could only stare out in slack-jawed wonder.

Logan, on the hand, had no such qualms with speaking, clapping Cameron on the shoulder and proclaiming in a proud, grandiose tone, “Welcome home.”

---

There was a generous reprieve of about thirty seconds, at which Logan allowed Cameron to take in the grandeur that was Arsius Station, before enough was enough.

“Alright enough gawking,” He said, grabbing Cameron by the sleeve and pushing in off towards one of the branching pathways off to the right. “Let’s get going. We have an appointment to keep.”

A short while later,after crossing through a maze of back alleys and through unused retail spaces, the trio came to a stop at what looked to be a simple two story clinic. It sat in the far back of an alley, situated snuggly between two dilapidated warehouses, and provided the only illumination, save for the gentle glow of the main street a few hundred meters behind them. The sign that hung above was worn and flickering with neon light, with a few letters not illuminated at all. Even still, Cameron was able to read the name with relative ease.

“Marco’s clinic?” He asked, turning towards Logan, who nodded in the affirmative.

“The only place I trust with my medical issues. Which now includes your medical issues.”

“What medical issues?” Cameron asked, raising an eyebrow. “Last time I checked I was healthy.”

“You sure about that?” Logan said, “Nothing wrong whatsoever?”

“Uh… Yeah? What are you getting - Ow!” He exclaimed, feeling Aurora’s hand meet the back of his head as she walked past the two of them.

“You’re here to get threaded, you idiot.” She said, without hardly a glance back. She made her way all the way to the front door, opening it as the sound of a welcome bell sounded, before she looked back at Cameron with expectantly raised eyebrows. “Now are you gonna stand there or head inside so we can get this shit over with?”

Cameron blinked then turned to Logan tossing a thumb in Aurora's direction, “Did we really need to bring her?”

Logan couldn't help but to laugh and shake his head, clapping Cameron on the back before making his way to join the young mechanic, “Come on, it's gonna be a long process and the faster this is done the faster we can get to the fun stuff.”

---

It was surprising how streamlined the intake process was. Within only a half hour since the trio had walked into the clinic, a sleepy eyed nurse wearing too short a skirt and too much makeup had taken Cameron in, ran a basic physical, and ushered back into a room lined with bandages, sharp instruments, and a table cut out in the shape of a person which was situated in the middle of the room. There were several cut outs where one could rest their arms and legs, as well as a headrest, tilted slightly up and possessing a hole just under the nape of the neck.

“If you would be so kind, as to strip down to your underwear and climb onto the threading board. The doctor will be in shortly.” The nurse said, giving cute little giggle, before taking her leave.

Cameron looked at the table, running his hand over the cracked, worn leather that would support his body. Three holes were spaced equidistant away from each other, around the level of where his spine would be. His eyes fell on the cut outs where his appendages would go. They were boxy, coffin-like constructs made of steel and possessed three holes that ran the length of each. He gulped silently, feeling a sour taste building in the back of his throat.

“I… Didn’t realize how many uplink points there were.” He said softly, not taking his eye off of the slab.

“Yeah,” Logan said, matching Cameron’s muted tone, “But luckily the arms and legs are smaller threads so they go by pretty quick. The spine and the neural uplink are the ones that take the longest.”

Cameron chewed the inside of his lip, looking over his shoulder to where Logan was standing, leaning against the wall next to the door, arms crossed, and staring intently at him.

“Does it hurt?” He asked, sounding more like a scared child than he expected too.

“Anything in this world worth having hurts, kid.” Logan said, not taking his eyes off the boy, “But to be blunt, yes. When I got threaded, it was one of the most painful experiences of my life.”

“Oh… great.” Cameron said sarcastically, before taking a deep breath to try and psych himself up. He stripped, removing a white tunic and black trousers he’d taken with him from Ketris, and tossing them to the floor. Aurora, uncharacteristic of her usual standoffishness, reached down and gently picked up the heap of clothes, folding them neatly and pulling them up under her arm.

“Hey what are you doing?” Cameron asked, but she ignored him, turning to Logan and speaking in a rather subdued tone.

“I’ll get a hotel over in the rust-belt district. Nothing fancy but it’ll be close to where we’ll be looking. Might make it easier on him anyway.”

“Hello? Aurora?” Cameron asked again, and again it was like he was invisible with Logan responding to the girl with a shallow nod.

“Sounds good. Make sure you grab Marcus from the ship and show him around. Take some silver out of the safe to grab some food and him some new clothes. I got Cam.”

“Roger that. Keep me posted.” She said with a nod turning to walk out of the room.

“Hey fucker I’m talking to you! Where are you taking my shit?” Cameron said, shouting now in irritation at Aurora.

She stopped, her hand still hovering over the door knob and turned to look at Cameron. There was no animostiy in her eyes, no irritation or annoyance. If anything, the look she gave him could have best been described as… pity.

“Good luck Cam,” She said, turning the knob and stepping out, “Remember… It won’t last forever.” With that, she closed the door behind her leaving only the two men in the room.

Cameron blinked once, twice, turning back to Logan with a raised eyebrow. “What the hell was that about?” He asked, slightly concerned.

Logan merely shrugged, looking at him. “Don’t worry about it. You’re not gonna need your clothes for while. Now, hop up on the table and get comfy.”

“But I-”

“HOP UP… and get comfy,” Logan interrupted, raising his voice to tell Cameron this wasn’t a request.

Cameron shut his mouth, eyeing his mentor for a hard while, before complying. He climbed onto the table, positioning his arms, leg, spine, and head into their proper places just as a knock came from the door, opening before either man could speak.

“Ah! Logan!” An elderly male voice said, though Cameron couldn’t see who it was.

“Hey they Marco,” Logan replied with a chuckle, “Long time no see.”

“Indeed, and for such a special occasion as this,” The man known as Marco said. “And just who might this young man be?”

The voice got closer and finally, Cameron was able to get a look at what was presumably the man who was going to thread him.

He was small, his head barely peeking over the table, and bald. His wrinkled forehead creased further as he smiled at Cameron, eyeing him through a pair of thick gold-rimmed glasses.

“Hello there, young man.” He said, a thick white curly-q mustache bouncing with every syllable, “My name is Marco Correra, but you may call me Marco, Mr. Correra, or simply Doctor. Whichever is more comfortable for you.”

“Umm… I think I’ll just go wtih Marco.” Cameron said, looking at the doctor with a raised eyebrow. He came off slightly… odd. Not concerningly so, but enough to give him pause. It was slightly unnerving to see someone so polite and warm in a place such as Arsius Station. Despite that, he kept quiet and let the man continue speaking.

“Wonderful. Well, I’ll be performing your surgery today. I will make sixteen incisions into your arms, legs, spine, and brainstem. From there, I will implant fifteen threaded divots and a synaptic uplink module. This process will take around four hours, and I need you to be as still as you possibly can during the procedure. I’m telling you all this because once I begin I will not be able to stop. Do you have any questions for me?”

“Um… no?” Cameron said, feeling a sharp tingle of apprehension creep up his spine.

The doctor nodded giving another warm smile, before pulling out a small button from inside his coat and pressing it. Before Cameron could react, restraints popped up from the table, wrapping around his wrists, ankles, and waist, much to his rapidly increasing panic.

“W-What the hell?!” Cameron exclaimed, struggling at his shackles, but a gently touch from the doctor helped to calm him slightly.

“Easy my boy. They’re for protection and to further facilitate your stillness during the procedure. A simple precaution. That’s all.”

“Oh… okay…” Cameron said, laughing nervously, “Any other surprises I should know about?” He asked jokingly.

The doctor looked off in the distance as if he was trying to remember, “Oh yes. This process will need to be done without anesthetic.”

Cameron’s face dropped instantly, “Wait what?”

“Let’s begin.”

Hot searing pain. That is all Cameron felt as Marco went to work on his body. Fire shot through his arm as the doctor took a small high-powered drill and slowly drove it into the meat of his forearm. The smell of singed flesh and fresh blood filled the air and Cameron thought he was going to break his teeth with how hard he was squeezing them. His body jerky at the metal restraints, unconsciously trying to shrink away from whatever was causing it so much discomfort. Then the doctor hit the bone and Cameron couldn’t take it in silence anymore.

“Gah! Fuck!” He cried, tears streaming down his face as the ceiling above him spun in his vision. The burning smell was stronger now, and it felt like his bone itself was vibrating rapidly, trailing up his body and causing his teeth to chatter through shouts of anguish.

“That’s it my boy,” Marco said, his calm, warm tone unchanging from how it had been before the ordeal started. If anything, he sounded almost bored as he mutilated Cameron’s arm. “Just let it all out.”

The drilling stopped, and Cameron gasped, feeling a slight reprieve as he alternated between groaning in agony and sobbing while gasping for breath. It wasn’t to last, however, as with a slight hum and crackling arc of blue plasma, Marco began to cauterize the wound. Cameron’s screams increased in intensity and octave, blood vessels popping in the back of his throat as he felt his eyes start to roll back, a black cone forming in his periphery.

“Logan…” Marco said, “If you would be so kind,” Cameron could barely hear him, his voice sounding like a distant echo as his mind reached its limit, swiftly lulling him into unconsciousness.

Smack

A firm hand struck Cameron’s face, pulling him back to the waking world, and the hellish pain that came with it. He was staring up at Logan, his features tight and calloused, save for the eyes that shined with an unspoken pain and sympathy.

“Stay awake, Kid,” He said softly, speaking in between Cameron’s screaming gasps.

“Fuck you!” Cameron shouted, spittle and blood flying up from his lips as his pain was now accented with a white hot fury.

“That’s it…” Logan continued, “Scream at me to your heart's content. Focus that anger on me. But don’t you dare pass out.”

Cameron had stopped speaking now, looking into Logan’s eyes with a violent glare, his body shaking and twitching, his screams reduced to a manic, low growling. There was a scraping sound, followed by a tugging sensation on his arm, as Marco shaved the outer rim of the incision. Then, he reached somewhere outside of Cameron’s vision and pulled out a small iron thimble-like piece of metal.

“Inserting thread,” Marco said, and Cameron felt a sharp, frozen sensation seeping deep into the muscle and bone of his forearm numbing the area. Compared to the horrific trauma he’d endured so far, this was nearly enough to make him coo with delight. Another tease of relief before Marco spoke again.

“Beginning flash bonding,” As quick as the cold set in, it rapidly morphed into a searing heat, causing Cameron to lurch, his growls growling louder. It felt like his arm had been dipped in lava, melting into molten slag. The scent of cooked meat filled his nostrils as a high-pitched whine met his ears, increasing further in volume by the second, until, with a bright flash of light, the pain lessened, dropping from a sharp agony filled heat, into a gentle tender throb.

Cameron felt like he could breathe for the first time in forever. He sucked in air, blinking and looking around, trying to stay conscious.

“Is… is it over?” He asked in a soft, raspy voice.

Logan grimaced looking away for a moment before looking back down at Cameron, “Not exactly, kid.”

“One thread down,” Marco said, as if he’d been signaled. “Beginning threading procedure on the right bicep now.”

Before Cameron could register what had been said, he was screaming once again.

---

Cameron had been lied to. The procedure had not finished in four hours. In fact, they were nearing the sixth hour of this hellish torture when Marco finally spoke with something other than a calm impassiveness.

“Alright, preparing for Synaptic Uplink installation now. Nearly done my boy . How are you faring down there?”

There wasn’t a verbal response, as Cameron had lost the will to speak hours ago. Instead, he made a low droning groan that barely reached the surgeons ears. He had remained conscious as ordered, just barely, but damn it he had pulled through, partially through sheer will, and partially through the sting of Logan’s heavy palms. And how was he rewarded for his effort? He had been flipped over on the movable table like a pig on a spit, facing the bloodstained floor, suspended by the restraints that still bound him, his eyes possessing barely a flicker of their usual fire as he watched a thin line of his drool seep into the pores of the concrete.

Logan, who had dropped to the floor to keep Cameron company looked up at him, his own eyes hollow and exhausted. Drained physically, mentally, and emotionally as he snapped his fingers in the kid’s face. A slow, delayed blink in response caused Logan to sigh, looking up at Marco and give a curt nod.

“Go ahead, doc. Let’s see what happens.”

“Understood, beginning Uplink procedure.”

Cameron felt the drill pierce his skin. He felt his muscles burn and blacken under the heat of a torch. He felt… everything. But he couldn’t scream. His body didn’t have the strength to. Instead the sounds that emanated from his tightly clenched lips were the strained, choking, quiet grunts of a wounded animal. His body lurched and arched as much as it could bear to do, barely moving a muscle. Even is eyes, though wide and bloodshot, slowly started to dim, his once brilliant pools of oceanic sapphires dulling into a smoky gray.

He could feel the cool metal of the divot inserted into his neck, quickly heating as it fused to his body, but… something else was added as well. Another piece of metal, so surmised because of the small clinks and clangs it made against his threads was inserted as far back in as it could go into the Uplink module, clicking into place with a loud snap.

“That should do it.” Marco said with a weary sigh. Cameron heard a button click before the table slowly rotated back around, and he was staring at the surgeon’s elderly smiling face once again.

“Can you hear me boy?” He said, raising his voice in volume as if Cameron were deaf.

“Blink if you can hear me.”

He blinked. Marco nodded, his smile growing wider.

“Good. Then the procedure was a success. Congratulations young man. You survived a surgery with a forty percent mortality rate. You may count yourself among the very, very few. Be proud.”

Cameron blinked again and Marco nodded, clapping his hands together, before turning his back to him as he rifled through a series of drawers. With an exclamation of triumph, he turned back around, holding what looked to be a small metal lid, with wiring dangling from the underside of it.

“This, is what is known as an Uplink Primer.” He said, pressing a button on the side of the table, raising Cameron up vertically as he spoke, “Now that your hardware has been installed, you will need to be registered. This device, using a central database of both Earthgov and Free-Space birth repositories, will record your basic information, as well as any additional pilot information that is of note. It will then report that information to another database containing the records of all active and deceased threaded pilots. Think of this as your… operational passport. This is how people will know you, it will be how prospective employers may verify who you are, and it will be how you can track your accomplishments, pilot rating, and other such accolades.

Cameron heard the words that came out of the doctors mouth, but he didn’t really understand what they meant. Sensing that very sentiment, Marco sucked his teeth and nodded.

“Right. Still a lot to take I’m afraid… Just be aware that this will cause a… biological reset, if you will. Once you wake up, everything will be much clearer I assure you.”

Cameron’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion but the doctor simply smiled and walked out of his vision, moving to be behind him, and leaving him there to look at Logan. The man was smiling wider than Cameron had ever seen, and he could have sworn he was a tad misty-eyed.

“Good job, Kid,” He said softly, “I’ll see you when you wake up.”

Before Cameron could question the thought, a high-pitched whir had caused his body to slump, his once tense and rigid muscles going limp as his consciousness turned out like a light. The only saving grace, was a translucent blue screen that appeared in the center of blackness, white script running across invisible lines in real time.

Beginning Pilot Registration Sequence.

Name: [REDACTED] AKA: Cam Ket Pilot Registration Number: 1128212 Pilot Rank: Alpha (Logos) Co-Pilot: N/A Company: N/A Unit Type: N/A

Registration Accepted. Welcome Pilot.

On a planet at the edge of the Pirou system, Sabitha Lendrick let out an anxiety riddled howl of frustration. She looked at the screen again, hoping against hope that her eyes had deceived her in their exhaustion. Yet, it wasn’t to be. Even in her fear and a wish that she hadn’t read what she had, the words still scrolled across the screen, tiny white symbols on a black background that taunted her every time she gazed on them.

“Cam Ket,” She said in a hushed whisper, reading it aloud from her datapad. It was one name of many, all which made up the Free-Space documentation for the newest batch of registered pilots. It was also name whose significance she knew very well. Ever since her husband had returned from Ketris, it was a name that had never seemed to leave his lips. Even in the dead quiet and solitude of their most intimate moments, she knew that name was never far from his mind.

“Oh Lazarus, you absolute fool,” She hissed, pacing the room, deep in thought. She knew who that name belonged too. Even if Lazarus hadn’t told her, she was the Chief Information Officer for Amreith’s military affairs, she would have learned about the fate of the Pellyn boy, eventually.

She also knew, that the Prince was unhappy with the outcome. A ‘Mismanagement in every sense of the word’ he’d called it. Lazarus was lucky he wasn’t in one the penal legions, piloting a squire with a bomb strapped to its chassis, or worse. And now the Pellyn brat had been threaded. Even if Prince Caustos was a higher class of pilot at beta, this was bad. She gulped, her eyes drifting back towards the screen, up towards a red button marked with the word ‘Delete’ in the far right corner. Could she really do this? Would she really do this?

She would. This was her husband after all. The love of her life, the father of their children. She wouldn’t offer him up like a lamb to slaughter, Amreith be damned. Slowly her hand reached up, hovering over the button.

“I wouldn’t do that if were you, Sabitha.” A deep, refined voice, dripping with venom and cold as the winter night cause her to jump in her place. She whirled around, where she was to face, or rather, face to sternum with a massive blackish-gray mass of muscle and scar tissue.

“G-General Aylim!” She exclaimed, dropped her datapad on the desk and clasping her hands behind her back, bowing slightly at the waist in a show of respect. “W-What are you doing here?!”

“You don’t get to ask those questions Sabitha. I go where I please.” He said, walking past her and gazing around the empty office space that belonged to her and her team.

Her heart dropped into her stomach at his harsh words, she swallowed hard, putting on her friendliest smile and nodded, bowing lower, “Y-You’re absolutely right General, I forgot my place. It is an honor to have you grace our section.”

“Indeed,” He said, tone imperceptible as he ran a finger along the spines of several binders situated on a bookshelf in the back corner. They all had dates and names signifying different operations Sabitha and her team had undertake in the past. Whether it was the hedonistic gluttons of the Ma’Kirian empire, or the glorified harbormasters that was the Ketris nobility, Amreith requested information and analysis on all interplanetary assets friend or foe. Aylim, however, demanded it.

“Do you enjoy your job, Sabitha?” He asked, not looking back at her, choosing instead to continue touring the room.

This question gave her pause. She rose slowly from her deep bow and turned back to look at him. “S-Sir?” She asked.

“It’s a simple question,” He said in response, his eyes slow rising up to meet hers, “Do you enjoy working for the planet of Amreith, more specifically, do you enjoy working for his majesty, Prince Caustos?”

“Y-Yes, of course!” She said, forcing excitement through her tone to help better convey her conviction to the crown, regardless of how disingenuous it truly was, “I… Love my world. I would give anything to protect it.”

“Would you die for it?” Aylim asked, his eyes boring holes into hers. The cold neutral expression even more menacing than a violent sneer could ever hope to be.

Her eyes went wide, her pale skin, growing even paler as she ran a trembling hand through her graying chestnut colored hair. “I… I don’t like to think about something like that.”

She clearing her throat, her heart hammering in her chest as she mustered up all the courage she could to hold his gaze and respond with the answer she knew he wanted to hear. “But if it came down to it… Absolutely I would, General.”

Aylim simply stared at her, and Sabitha wasn’t sure if he was taking her measure, or guaging her honesty. She eventually got her answer when, without breaking contact, he reached behind his back and pulled out a datapad, similar to hers.

“That’s good to hear Sabitha,” He said, looking down as he unlocked the pad, swiping through a series of pictures with his finger as he spoke. “Though, there is a distinction I need you to be aware of.”

“W-What’s that?” She said, her voice trembling, and her stomach knotting. She felt a cold sweat break out on her neck as the tension grew heavier with ever second that passed in dead silence. Finally, his eyes looked up, catching hers and she could see that the once cold gaze radiated fury, though his voice maintained it’s calm.

“There is a difference, between a martyr and a liability,” He said, turning the slate around to show the same screen she had been staring at for the last few hours. And there, right in the middle, circled with red e-ink, was the name she had longed to never see.

“Don’t be a liability Sabitha,”

---

The maze of hallways ran the length of Amreith’s royal palace were dim and cold, much like the rest of the kingdoms architecture. On a planet so close to its systems sun, very few places on Amreith were habitable, and even those were inhospitable deserts filled with rolling sandstorms, temperatures in the triple digits in winter, and large fire-spitting centipedes the size of a Squire. Most of their populace resided in a massive, continent spanning cave system, where at its heart, lay the Obsidian Palace. It was a massive, pyramid shaped structure, floating above the waves of an underground Ocean, it’s sleek black stone seeming to morph and shift with the very waves that rolled off it.

It was an imposing structure, one of a power and strength. At least that’s what the nobility believe. To the rest of the planets citizens, it was a constant reminder in their hearts that like the stone from which it was carved, their Prince’s heart shared the same hue. To them, it was a place of fear. And as Sabitha walked its halls, she felt that fear for the first time. Her feet clacked rapidly on the stone floor, accented by the thunderous foot falls of Aylim’s boots as he followed behind her, guiding her to their destination with a low-toned growl of either left or right.

“Left,” He said, his voice booming and deep, easily rising over the echoing sounds of their footsteps.

That was when the crying wails of a man reached her ears. Sobbing soliloquies of apology and pain the reached inside her and squeeze her heart until she felt it may burst. She knew that voice, even through the gasping sobs leaving his lips. Lazarus.

She faltered in her step, losing balance in her shock and nearly crashing to the floor as one of her stiletto heels lost it’s placing. Instinctively, Sabitha reached out and grasped the wall, trying to take what little time she could in that moment to compose herself.

“Keep walking Sabitha,” Aylim ordered softly, “We’re nearly there.”

“Y-Yes… General,” She said, daring to look over her shoulder and steal a glance at the man. In his eyes, she that same fire of fury that had burned when he first showed up at her office and ‘requested’ she accompany him here. Red flames of anger danced behind his eyes of gold and she quickly looked away, not wanting to be the focus of his rage. With another breath, she kept walking, trying her best to hide her horror as the wails grew louder, accented by the unmistakable sounds of a fist connecting with a face.

“Stop here,” Aylim said, as the pair reached the end of a long hallway, arriving at a door that would have nearly blended in seamlessly with the black wall, if it weren’t for the gold trim and doorknob. That, and the overwhelming cries of agony coming from the other side.

Sabitha tried to hold her emotions in check. Tried to keep the tears from falling and her body from trembling. But hearing her husband crying out for mercy was enough to cause even an experience officer like her to break.

“Open it,” Aylim commanded.

She complied, her heart breaking with every inch that opened.

There was Lazarus. The same chubby little man who won her heart so many years ago. Back when she was young and beautiful, and he was happier and full of hope. Hope for a brighter future for a lowborn man such as himself. A hope that lit a fire of passion and love in her own heart that caused her to marry him and raise his station. That’s how she wanted to remember her love. Happy and hopeful, not the pitiful creature that stood before her now.

He was chained to a post, his clothes tattered and stained with blood and sweat. His hair hung down in front of two swollen, blackened eyes, as his body slumped against it’s bindings. He didn’t look up as she entered. How could he? He was to busy reeling from the powerful blows Prince Caustos had pistoned into his face.

“You said everything would be fine,” The prince said, his tone calm and quiet yet still dripping with a deadly venom as he drove a fist in her husband’s jaw, spittle and bloody teeth flying as he recoiled in pain.

“You said… not to worry about it,” Another blow landed, this time rocketing up into Lazarus’s stomach, the impact sounding like a gunshot as he was lifted off his feet, gasping for breath as Caustos reached up and gripped his hair, yanking his face up so Lazarus’s eyes would meet his.

“This. Is. Worrying!” Caustos growled, his gold plated canines glinting in the light as he leered at the former diplomat.

“Your… Majesty, I” Lazarus tried to speak, but the Prince quickly cut him off, capturing his throat in a vice like grip and pushing the man back against the wall, augmented strength due to his threads causing the stone to crack from the force of the impact.

“Silence worm!” Seprith bellowed, “Did you even stop and think about the ramifications of letting a royal scion leave for Free-Space?! And with a pilot no less?! Of course he was going to get threaded! And now, if word reaches him about our plans, he can simply sell off favors of the Pellyn name in exchange for Beta, Gamma, or stars forbid even Sigma class pilots to come here and rip our empire apart! Even if me and Aylim are Gamma class, it wouldn’t take many to devastate our national military. And it’s all your fault!”

He was practically foaming at the mouth now, his teeth bared in a savage display of anger as Sabitha watched her ruler choke the life out of her husband, powerless to do anything.

“Your Majesty,” Aylim said, clearing his throat to get his nephews attention.

Caustos looked up, his eyes meeting his uncle’s before they slowly dropped and met Sabitha’s frightened gaze.

“Ah…” He said, clearing his own throat and backing away from Lazarus, removing his grip from the man’s throat, causing him to gasp audibly.

“Thank you for coming Sabitha,” He said, his booming voice once more under a calm and collected control.

“M-My Prince,” Sabitha said, dropping to her knees and prostrating herself before her prince, “Please Prince Caustos, spare my husband. I… Whatever you wish of me to do, I will do it. But please don’t kill him. I beg of you.”

Sabitha couldn’t see, as her forehead was currently touching the floor, but there was mistaking the sound of a soft chuckle rising from the lips of her ruler as she begged for her husbands life.

“Rise, Sabitha,” The prince said, with Sabitha instantly obeying. He looked at her for a long while, cocking his head to the side, seemingly deep in thought. After what felt like an eternity, he opened his mouth to speak, malice still dripping off every word.

“I have three tasks, that I request of, Sabitha Lendrick,”

She gulped, her stomach twisting in knots as she slowly nodded, “A-Anything, My Prince.”

“First,” He began, holding up a single finger to denote the number, “I want you to recall all of Amretih’s scouting units. I want their Squires outfitted for battle and formed into quick reaction forces. I want them loaded onto our ships and I want every available pilot at the ready.”

She nodded slowly, her anxiety stalling somewhat from the rather mundane tasking.

“Yes, My Prince.”

“Second,” He continued, raising another finger to join the first, “I want you to get me the Captains Code of one Killian Gray. You will find him in the Gamma class pilot listings. While you’re at it, I want you to move 500,000 silver bars from the royal treasury into a Free-Space escrow account.

“A-And the third request?” She asked, gulping as she realized she had spoken out of turn.

That didn’t seem to bother the prince though, he simply smiled, and walked up to her, reaching behind his back as he did so.

“Third,” He said, pulling a loaded rail pistol from behind his back, placing it into Sabitha’s trembling hand, before stepping aside, and pointing at her husband.

“I want you to finish the job,”

Sabitha’s eyes went wide with horror as she looked at the Prince, then back to her husband. Her heart felt like it was going to leap from her throat, and she couldn’t stop herself from shaking her head vehemently, her voice cracking from desperation as she spoke.

“P-Prince Caustos, please. No. I can’t! He’s my everything… Please… Please don’t make me do this!” She cried, tears stinging her face as she looked at the impassive, slightly irritated white’s of Seprith’s golden eyes, watching them roll with annoyance.

“Oh by the stars woman!” He said, “Grow a backbone! You’ll die for this country but you won’t kill for it?”

“Please,” She said again, her voice soft like a midnight whisper, “I… I can’t lose him.”

A heavy sigh left the Prince’s lips as he brought a hand up, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“I’m going to make this a very simple choice for you, Sabitha,” He said slowly, like he was talking to a child, “Your husband, or your children.”

Her eyes went wide, as her heart fell through her stomach, dropping the rail pistol with trembling hands, as she dropped to her knees once again, reaching out to grip the hem of the Prince’s regal robes.

“Please My Prince!” She sobbed, “Please!”

“Make a choice,” He growled, “Or I’ll take them all.”

Her heart shattered at this, a hard lump forming in her throat as she wailed in emotional agony. She sobbed loudly for a long time, curling up into a ball, wishing and hoping against hope that she’d simply wake up from this nightmare, find her love laying next to her, as her children ran in their room, tiny feet padding on the floor to come rouse them like they’d always done. He couldn’t make he choose this. If there was any justice in the universe, then he couldn’t do this.

“My love…” A soft, trembling voice called out to her, causing her to look up with tear-filled eyes.

“Lazarus?” She said, her voice shaking. She tried to scramble over to him, to hold him tight, to have him kiss her in the way he would that would let her know everything was alright.

But everything wasn’t alright. Caustos, held up a massive leg blocking her path, as her husband spoke again.

“It’s alright my love. You know the right choice.”

She closed her eyes, wiping away the tears as she shook her head, desperation giving way to hysteria, “No… No.. I won’t do it. I can’t kill you.”

“You must,” He said weakly, “For the children. My purpose here is over, regardless. Please my love. Do this one last thing for me.”

She swallowed hard, meeting her love’s eyes as he gazed at her through strands of sweat-stained hair, and then he… smiled. That damned smile. The one that he saved for her, because he knew it worked on her when he wanted his way. And as more tears fell, the damn bursting fully now, he got his way, one last time.

“Okay,” She whispered, wiping her eyes, as she grabbed the rail pistol, and stood on trembling legs. Slowly, she brought it up, the barrel pointed directly between the eyes. She was a good shot. She had to be in her line of work. And at this range, there was no chance she could miss.

“I love you, Sabitha,” Lazarus said, that same smile etched on his face, as his details became blurry through a fresh set of tears.

“I love you too,”

Bang

Cameron awoke with a start, shooting up straight in his bed eyes wide, and gasping for breath. That was until the numbness of his slumber faded, quickly replaced by a deep throbbing pain that forced him to lie back with a pitiful pained cry.

“Ow…” He groaned, his voice weak and raspy. He slowly turned his head to the side, spying a bedside table with a glass of water resting on the edge. Immediately aware of how dry his mouth was, he smacked his cracked lips trying to wet them with a tongue that was the same consistency as sandpaper. He tried to will his hand to move, tried to lift his arm just a few inches in order to claim his prize. It was all for naught though, as a wave of stiff, throbbing pain lanced up his arm, putting a stop to his attempts at moving.

“Hello?!” He called, voice cracking from un-use and barely managing to rise above the din of a whisper, “I’m up! And… Alive… I think.”

Silence was the only response he received, causing him to give a defeated sigh. Doing his best to inchworm his way to sit up, he figured that whoever was around would come to check on him eventually, and looked around, trying to figure out exactly where he was.

It was a safe bet to figure that he was in a hotel room, likely the same room Logan had asked Aurora to pick out before his surgery. It wasn’t an opulent room by the standards of a prince, but by the standards of a mech pilot it was pretty damn swanky. It was a large room, furnished completely with a chaise lounge, dresser, and a large king-sized bed. A full sized kitchen was off to his left, plastic dishware still dripping as if having been recently washed. Thick blackout curtains were pulled closed, letting only the smallest sliver of iridescent neon light dance along the edge of the bed. There was a table off to his right, with enough space to accommodate three chairs. It was the only part of the space that could be described as dirty, littered with beer bottles, an ashtray, and playing cards.

‘So while I was getting turned into a human battery, these fuckers were out here playing poker?’ He thought to himself, a warm throb of fresh pain washing over him almost on cue to remind him of his harrowing ordeal.

A commotion from the hallway broke him from his thoughts, as somewhere where he couldn’t see, a door opened. There was a quiet shuffling, as two large bags stuffed high with supplies entered the room, held by a tiny figure with a tuft of bright blue hair.

“Oh, hey Aurora,” He said soft and raspy, but it was enough to scare the girl, causing her to jump and drop the bags she was carrying, both of them hitting the ground with a dense thud.

“Ahh! Damn it!” She shouted, turning to face him with a scowl, “Need to put a goddamn bell on you!”

“Well it’s not like I was going anywhere…” Cameron said, feeling his eye starting to twitch. “Had I known I’d have woken up to you I think I would have rather stayed comatose.”

“That can still be arranged if you wanna keep being a smart ass.” She said, sighing as she picked up the items that tumbled out from when Cameron had startled her. Cameron watched her pick up the bags and set them on the card table, pulling out a multitude of canned or flash frozen food and, oddly enough, clothing.

“What’s with the wardrobe?” He asked, nodding with his chin at the folded pair of cargo pants and a litany of compression shirts, both sleeved and sleeveless.”

“Logan, wanted me to grab you some new clothes while you were out,” She said, a smile forming at the corner of her mouth as she did. “I think he was tired of you walking around looking like some kind of tourist.”

“Well, I’m not gonna say no to free clothes, I suppose. Even if they do make me look like a douchebag.” Cameron said, watching as Aurora chuckled, raising her head to look up at him with an amused smirk.

“I don’t think you needed a change of clothes to check that box.”

“Whatever,” He said, rolling his eyes before settling in to watch her work in silence.

“How are you feeling?” She asked after a while, not looking up as she organized the contents on the table.

Cameron tried to shrug, but the stiffness in his shoulders only allowed him to wince in pain, hissing quietly through his teeth.

“I’ve… been better…” He said through clinched teeth.

“Oh, who’d of thought that?” She said, rolling her eyes as she started to clean up the table and surrounding area., “Almost like you haven’t moved in two weeks.”

Cameron balked at her statement, his eyes growing wide, “Two weeks?! I’ve been out for two weeks?”

Aurora looked up and blinked, her face blank and neutral, as if this wasn’t some sort of shock, “Uh… yeah?”

“How are you so calm about this?!?” Cameron shouted, wincing in pain as he tried to sit up only to be pushed back against the headboard from a fresh wave of pain. “Gah! Fuck!”

She watched him cry out in pain, her eyebrow shooting up into a look of confusion as she opened her mouth to speak, then closed, then opened it again, finally putting a voice to her thoughts.

“Cameron… you realize the extent as to what happened to you, don’t you?”

This gave him pause, cutting his whinging off prematurely as his face took on a sheepish look.

“…Maybe.”

She sighed in frustration, running her hand slowly down her face, as her voice took on a more annoyed tone. “So your body gets tired when experiencing trauma right? That’s why everyone says you need to rest when your sick or injured.”

“Yeah.” He said, his sheepish look becoming more prominent as she continued to explain.

“So what do you think happens when we, oh I don’t know, SURGICALLY GRAFT METAL ONTO YOUR FUCKING SKELETON WITHOUT ANESTHETIC?!” She shouted, looking at him like he was an idiot.

“It… gets tired?” He asked, his voice barely above an embarrassed whisper.

“Yes… it gets tired,” she said in mocking baby voice, “Someone learned something today didn’t he?” She gave another sigh, grabbing the foodstuffs and carting them over to the kitchen, continuing her rant as she walked.

“You’re body needing that time to recover and build up calcium deposits to further seal in the thread links. Muscles atrophy when they’re not used. Couple that with a lack of actual nutrients and it’s no wonder you’re all locked up.”

“Since when did you become a doctor?”

“Since I took basic health ed in grade school.”

There was an air of one sided hostility that permeated throughout the room as Cameron stared into Aurora’s apathetic eyes.

“So what do I need to do to do?” He asked, the sound of impatience clear in his tone.

“It’s simple,” She said with a shrug, “I just need to stretch you out.”

“Can you at least buy me dinner first?”

She rolled her eyes and groaned, but Cameron could see the beginnings of a smile forming on her delicate features before she spoke.

“Shut up and try not to scream so loud.”

He blinked, unable to restrain himself, “Typically I charge extra for that.”

---

It took a few hours full of pained swearing and non-consensual yoga, but eventually, Cameron was able to stand and stretch, the waves of sharp pain now reduced to a dull throb. He groaned with relief as he massaged his thighs, working the knots of atrophy out, feeling the warm tingle of blood beginning to flow through his legs once again.

“Ah, that’s better,” he said with a sigh, looking up just in time to see a pile of black fabric hit him in the face.

“Put those on,” Aurora said, “I’m gonna go find Logan and let him know your up and at em.”

“Will do,” Cameron said, already fitting his head through the neck hole of a thin, black, long-sleeve fleece. Pushing his arms through the sleeves, Cameron felt a slight tugging sensation and looked down to see the glint of metal through a small hole in the fabric.

“What the…” He said softly, reaching down to pull at the fabric. As he did so however, Aurora reached over and swatted his hand away.

“Leave it alone and keep getting dressed,” She said softly.

Cameron eyed her for a moment, his brow shooting up in confusion, before eventually, he complied. Upon fully donning the fleece, he turned to face Aurora, holding his arms out wide as if to ask ‘now what?’

She answered, not with her words, but with her actions as she reached up to where Cameron’s collar was, pinching one on the flaps in a spot where Cameron heard as distinct click. Within an instant, the fabric shifted, holes lining up with his uplink threads before they compressed, snuggly hugging his thread divots, providing a seal from the breeze while keeping his threads gleaming and visible, shining in the room's light.

“Whoa…” He said softly, in awe of the machinations of the apparently not so simple fabric.

“It’s called smart-weave. It’s a type of clothing specifically made for pilots so you can wear them while inside your units,” She said, taking a step back and handing him a pair of coyote brown cargo pants, “These kinda function the same way but… well… you’ll see.”

Another raised eyebrow appeared on Cameron’s face. He looked at Aurora for a long while before, with a shake of his head, he grabbed the pants and put them on, bending and stretch to get himself comfortable.

“They’re a little… stiff.” He said, grimacing as he reached down to tug at the nylon clinging to the outer sides of his legs.

“Push the fastener button,” she said, pointing towards a brass button situated above his zipper.

He looked down and pressed it, hearing a satisfying click before he felt tightening sensation around his thighs and calves as pieces of fabric shot out and wrapped around his legs, clamping down tightly and slowly adjusting their position until, like his top, the gleaming metal divots of his lower body glinted softly in the room's light as he took in his profile in a standing mirror.

“Cool…” he said softly, his eyes trailing up and down his body taking in not just his new attire, but a new… him.

A wolf whistle came from behind, and the pair turned to see Logan, leaning against the wall, his face fighting to contain the wide grin that threatened to split his cheeks.

“Awe look at that,” he said in a teasing tone, “It’s babies first uniform.”

Cameron’s eye twitched as he felt his ears beginning to burn from embarrassment.

“Y’know if you’re gonna be a jackass, I’ll just go back to sleep.”

Logan let out a soft chuckle, and shook his head, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “Easy, kid. I’m just fucking with you. You’ve earned some levity after what you went through.”

“Where the hell have you been?” Aurora asked, raising an eyebrow as Logan’s smirk grew wider.

“Window shopping,” He said, his voice falling into a conspiratorial tone.

“Window shopping for what?” Cameron asked, realization dawning the moment Aurora’s hand connected to the back of his head.

“Why do you think we’re here dumbass? We’re getting you a mech. You think you just sat through six hours of torture because gunmetal screw holes are fashionable?”

“Okay I’m gonna need you to stop hitting me!” Cameron bellowed, rubbing his hand at the back of his head.

“Being stupid should be painful,” Aurora said, not skipping a beat. She turned back to Logan, her tone turning inquisitive as she probed Logan for more details.

“How many did you find?” she asked.

“Only six,” He said, shrugging as he turned to face her, “There’s not many Alpha class units that fit his… proclivities.”

“Proclivities?” Cameron asked, turning his head to look between the two of them.

“You know,” Logan began, searching for the right words, “How you…”

“Redline the engine and abuse the boost jets so you can fly around the battlefield like some sort of fucked up bumblebee,” Aurora finished for him.

“Yeah that,” Logan said, nodding in agreement.

Cameron blinked, looking between the two of them, “So I fight like a bumblebee?”

“But a very tough bumblebee,” Logan affirmed, clapping Cameron on the shoulder with a smile.

“Y’know,” Cameron said, “It doesn’t exactly feel good to have your fighting style compared to a fucking pollinator.”

“Do you really want to argue about this? Or do you want to go test drive a bunch of giant mechs?” Logan retorted, raising an eyebrow.

Cameron blinked and looked between Aurora and Logan, both of whom watched him, awaiting his answer.

“Well buzz buzz fuckers, let’s go shopping!”

“Alright, run me through this again, and go slow cause this shit is confusing,” Cameron said, keeping his eyes focused on the path forward as his voice rose to be heard over the din of haggling merchants and laughing mercs, “So, classes are based on the pilot and not the mech?”

Logan sighed, running his hands through his hair in frustration as he looked at Cameron incredulously, “Okay… one more time,” He said, slowing his pace in order to focus before breaking into his spiel.

“The fleet and pilot kind as a whole has a ranking system set in place in order to control the saturation of contracts, mechs, and money. There’s five ranks; Alpha, Beta, Gamma, Sigma, and Omega. The ranking system applies to the three major components of the Fleet, being Companies, A.R.M.S. units, and pilots. The only distinction is with the pilot ranking as each of these ranks in turn have three sub ranks that reside within them. Those sub ranks are Legos, Sirius, and Primus.”

“And I take it that an Alpha Primus is stronger than an Alpha Sirius, right?” Cameron asked, speaking slowly as he attempted to take it all in.

Logan nodded, “Exactly, and a Beta Legos is stronger than an Alpha Primus.”

“Just how much stronger?” Cameron asked.

Logan contemplated for a moment, bringing a finger up to stroke the wisps of gray hair that were peppered throughout his goatee, “It fluctuates dependent on the overall ranking. An Alpha Legos pilot can still handedly defeat an Alpha Primus, if the former is skilled enough. But wouldn’t have a snowball's chance in hell when pitted against a Beta Sirirus. Rule of thumb is this; The higher the overall rank, the larger the gap in skill between that pilot and all others underneath them.”

“And what determines a pilot's skill?” Cameron asked, following closely behind as Logan approached a moving sidewalk, its long black pavement-like floors slowly guiding them deeper into Arisus station, so far off into the distance that Cameron couldn’t even see where it ended. They boarded together as Logan leaned against the right handrail, resting his weight on his elbows, before looking over a Cameron like the answer was obvious.

“Missions, of course,” He said, “That and confirmed kills. Your unit records these metrics, and confirms there validity through logs that are kept in your synaptic uplink port. Once enough of these metrics are met, you’ll recieve an alert that says your approved for a promotion.

“Okay…” Cameron said with a slow nod. His head felt groggy and dumb as it tried to process all this information. He felt like he was understanding, but not to the extent that he needed to, which in turn lead to further questions.

“So that’s pilot rating, but why do the mechs have ratings? Aren’t they all based around the similar level of ability? Shouldn’t their rank come from the pilots and not their own? Why do they need one?”

“Upgrades dumbass,” Aurora said to his left causing his graze to turn and focus on her. She, like Logan was also leaning against the railing, but her gaze seemed to be focused on peering into the relatives mechanics shops that slowly went by.

“Upgrades?” He asked, this time pulling her attention to him. She sighed and slowly nodded, speaking in a tone that reminded Cameron of how a mother would explain something to a toddler.

“Yes. Upgrades. All enhancements that can be added onto your chassis whether it be Hardware or Software are rank locked.”

Before Cameron could pose his follow up question, Logan had jumped in to offer a better explanation, “Think of it like this, if you had all the money on Ketris, you could theoretically buy whatever mech you wanted, kit it out to your hearts content, and boom, you got the only Sigma class mech in your sector. But you have no time put inside of it, you’re not used to it’s idiosyncrasies and are just generally unfamiliar with the unit as a whole. Now you essentially just spent perhaps trillions of silver to have a very shiny, very large, and very deadly paperweight. The ranking system keeps snot-nosed nobles or diplomats from trying to play soldier where the could get themselves, or more importantly, their teammates killed.”

It was starting to click into place for Cameron, and he felt a swelling on confidence the longer Logan spoke.

“I gotcha. So it plays hand in hand with the pilot ranking. The more missions you complete, the more confirmed kills you get, justifies to the system that you’re competent enough to handle being faster, stronger, whatever.”

“Exactly,” Logan said, nodding in approval, “Now you’re getting it.”

Cameron could feel a smile forming at the corners of his mouth, when suddenly, another question came to him, causing him to look at Logan with an even more confused gaze.

“Hold up. In that scenario, you said I’d have the only Sigma unit in the sector. Are Sigmas really that rare?”

Logan scoffed, looking over at Cameron like he couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth, “Uh… Yeah kid. They’re that rare.”

“Really?” Cameron probed, his eyes widening as he tried to pry out further details from his mentor. “I mean, if there’s this many people in Arisus Station,” He motioned to the open space around them, filled with people shopping, walking, and conversing with one another, “Just how rare can they be?”

“Around Five percent of the total population,” Logan said, his tone neutral and deadpanned.

Cameron felt like his jaw was going to hit the floor, “Five percent? That’s it?”

Logan nodded, looking around at the undulating mob of Pilots and mechanics. “Yeah. And that’s being generous if I’m being honest. Once you hit Gamma class, I’m told it slows down to a crawl. At that point, the money is amazing, but the risk is so high that people either retire, die, or open up their own GACs. Past that, the only people left are in it for the love of the game.”

“I figured you were already Gamma class.” Cameron said, watch as Logan shook his head, his eyes taking on a more reflective nature.

“Not yet, I would have been if certain events hadn’t transpired like they did. But they did, and now I’m only a Beta Primus pilot.”

“Only, my ass,” Aurora chimed in, glaring at Logan, “That’s still the top twenty percent of the population. Be proud of that.”

Logan couldn’t help but chuckle, flashing the girl a shiny smile. “Thanks Aurora, I appreciate you.”

“So…” Cameron said, looking between the two of them. “If Logan’s in the top twenty percent, and a Sigma class is only five percent, at best… What about Omega classes?”

There wasn’t an answer right away from either party. Instead, Aurora and Logan simply looked at Cameron, then at each other, before offering him a shrug.

“That’s it?!” Cameron asked, irritation apparent in his tone, “All I get is a half-assed shrug?”

“I can’t tell you what no one knows Cam,” Aurora said matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean no one knows?” Cameron asked, scoffing with incredulity. He turned to look at Logan to see if he could help shine some light on the situation, but he too was unable to give a firm answer.

“She’s telling the truth kid. Omegas are the great big mystery of The Fleet.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Cameron asked. He felt a peculiar sensation in the pit of his stomach as he voiced his question. Some sense of uneasiness that bubbled up inside of him, like he was looking for some taboo knowledge that no one was supposed to know. Nevertheless, Logan obliged his curiosity with the best answer he could muster.

“I’ve been in The Fleet for fifteen years kid, and I’ve only seen two Omega class pilots. And even then, it was because I was attached as reserve unit with a team of Gammas. I…” He chewed at his lip, searching for the right words, “I don’t know how to describe them kid, but they’re not human. They can’t be.”

“Why do you say that?” Cameron probed, eyes wide and ears open, ready to recieve any information he could gleam from Logan’s memories, grateful that as he looked past the man, the end of their path was still far off in the distance.

“Because no human could survive what these guys put themselves through,” Logan said, his voice hushed slightly, “There’s a certain point where technology becomes so advanced it’s indistinguishable from magic and when I watched these two fight… magical was the only way to describe it. At base Alpha class, if you can hit a hundred miles an hour, then you can count yourself lucky that you got one of the fastest A.R.M.S. fresh off the assembly line. At Beta class, the average movement is closer to two hundred miles an hour. And it only goes up from there.

“So what, they were moving at like 1000 miles an hour or something?” Cameron asked, still trying to grasp the gravity of power these pilots supposedly held.

Logan shook his head, looking directly into Cameron’s eyes, speaking softly, as if his words were meant only for him.

“That’s the thing kid. I can’t tell you how fast they were going because I didn’t see them. None of us did. One minute they were standing there sizing each other up, the next, they were gone. But we heard them. For half a minute, it sounded like the sky itself was being split open. They were moving so fast, that our eyes, and those of our units sensors couldn’t track them. There was some weird… pressure the built up in the air around us, and it nearly pinned my Crusader to the ground. I thought I was gonna die. But just as quick as it started. It was over,” He said, snapping his fingers to emphasize the swift conclusion, “And suddenly, we were looking at one badly damaged Mech, and one heap of melted slag.”

“Holy shit…” Cameron said, under his breath.

“Took the words out of my mouth, kid.” Logan said, nodding slowly. “I can remember when it was over, the other mech had turned to look at us. And then, it simply turned and walked away. There were thirty of us there kid. Twenty Gammas and ten Betas and that pilot could have cared less. We weren’t worth it. But we were lucky that day.”

There was a silence among the trio as they seemed to absorb the gravity of Logan’s words. It was only when they fully stepped off the platform and onto the non-moving ground, that Cameron spoke up.

“I’m not gonna lie… That sounds pretty fucking awesome.”

“Right?!” Aurora said, causing Cameron to do a double take from the fact they had actually agreed on something.

Logan couldn’t hide his amusement, quietly chuckling and shaking his head, “I guess you had to have been there,” Then he shrugged, and nodded his head towards a large opening in the stations center wall, strewn with a series of flashing neon lights that spelled out “Monty’s Mech Mart” in bright flashing letters.

“We’re here kids,” He said, raising his voice to be heard over Aurora’s aggravated groan.

“Ugh! Why are we here? I hate dealing with Monty!” She cried out, glaring daggers at Logan.

“What’s wrong with Monty?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Shall I list my grievances alphabetically or chronologically?” She asked, not giving Logan a chance to reply before diving into her rant, raising a finger for every issue she voiced, “He smells, he’s cheap, he sells second hand parts at wholesale prices, he once tried to hawk an oxygen recycling system that had cracked valves which I spent a month and a half trying to fix so you wouldn’t suffocate when out on a contract, AND he shamelessly checks me out every time he sees me.”

Cameron was speechless as he watched Logan take Aurora’s ranting full force, letting her get everything off her chest before finally responding.

“Two things,” He began, “First of all, I didn’t know he made you uncomfortable because you don’t tell me these things. If you want me to, next time he does it, I’ll drag him out into the street and hit him with so many rights, he’ll be begging me for a left,”

Cameron could see a tinge of blush appear on Aurora’s cheeks as Logan gave his proclamation, quietly huffing out “You’re not my dad,” under her breath.

“Second,” He continued, ignoring her comment, “He’s the only that has the units I found for Cameron.”

Aurora rolled her eyes, scrunched her nose, and crossed her arms, thumping her foot in a way that reminded Cameron of a pissed off bunny. If he hadn’t heard some of the things that left her mouth in the short time of him knowing her, he’d almost think it was cute.

“Fine,” Aurora said after a moment, causing Logan to crack a smile. The man turned to Cameron then and raised an eyebrow.

“Ready to find your soulmate?”

The first thing that hit Cameron’s nostrils as he stepped into Monty’s Mechs was tangy stench of oil and hydraulic fluid. The smell filled his nose, as the whir of pneumatic drills and buzz of welding torches hit his ears, creating a symphony of a mechanical masterpiece. Then the trio rounded a corner to enter the shop proper, and his eyes took in the full scope the space, understanding intimately why Logan wanted to come here.

“Woah…” he said under his breath, looking around in all directions, experiencing a visual overload.

The space was large, about the size of any of the port warehouses from back home, and practically filled to the broom with various machinery and A.R.M.S. parts. Crates were stacked neatly on both sides, markings burned onto their wooden exteriors with labels such as ENGINES, CHASSIS, FLARES, and other such things. In the middle, with an open floor that was double the size of the Fenris when stacked side by side, various tables and platforms sat spread out and littered with tubing, scrap-metal, and various mech parts being worked on by a platoon of automated worker drones that flew back and forth silently save for the high-pitched hum of their hover jets.

But the one thing that drew Cameron's attention above all others, was what could be seen at the far back wall. A massive conveyer belt that ran the width of the structure and beyond, slowly pulling in various A.R.M.S. units through to be displayed momentarily as they swung from the large metal hooks that suspended them.

“Like what ya see kid?” Logan asked, giving Cameron an elbow into his side to rouse him from his enamored gawking.

“Oh hell yeah,” He said, flashing Logan a smile, before taking a step out into the warehouse floor, looking around at the various projects being overseen by the army of drones currently working. He had made it about halfway, before a wet hacking cough caught his attention, followed in turn by the oily voice of a practiced salesman.

“Welcome to Monty’s young man!” The voice said, fake exuberance evident in the tone. Still, Cameron put on his practiced friendly, easy-going grin and turned to greet the man, having the fight hard to keep that expression as he laid eyes on him.

The only way to describe the guy was… wet. From the balding head dripping with sweat that the man dabbed with a rag that was more oil than cloth, to the various stains the stood prominent on his jumpsuit, either the guy was allergic to soap, or simply thought that “Mechanic” and “Hobo” were the same thing. He was short and stocky with a slight pudge, though Cameron figured it was most likely due from age, as his shoulders, chest, and arms looked like they were cut from granite.

“I take it your Monty?” Cameron asked, forcing his smile wider as he walked up to meet the man.

“Yep, that’s me!” The man said, guffawing with a with hoarse laughter as he took Cameron’s hand with an iron like grip and shook it profusely, “Mortimer McCrag, but my friends call me Morty, and you my good sir, I count as one of them.”

“Save the speech Morty,” Logan’s voice rang out causing both Cameron and Morty to turn and watch as he and Aurora approached, “The kid’s with me.”

Morty’s smile drastically drew back from a wide toothy gleam, to a slight near-imperceptible smirk, “Logan… Last I heard, you’d ended up smeared across the pavement on some shithole in the Loriya System.”

“And you believed that?” Logan said, scoffing as he looked at him.

Monty shrugged, “Eh, you can’t blame a guy for hoping.”

The two then broke out into laughter from that, with Monty reaching out an arm for Logan to clasp.

“Eh, I’m just messing with ya rake. Good to see you’re still up and kicking. What can I do for you?”

“Wanted to take a look at those assault-variants you have in the back collecting dust. Especially the black one.”

Morty narrowed his eyes, his grin growing more wry and conspiratorial by the second, “And what makes you think I still have em?”

“Don’t bullshit me Morty, you and I both know they’re still back there. There’s not many people who can operate something with that much speed, and if they can, they don’t like having the protection of a wet paper bag.”

“Alright, alright, keep your pants on,” Morty said, waving his hand dismissively, before turning and walking past Cameron to make his way towards the back of the factory, while the trio fell into step behind them.

As they walked, Cameron felt a question beginning the form in the back of his head and couldn’t help himself from inquiring.

“So…” He began, worming his way between the space of Logan and Morty, “When you say ‘Assault-Variant’… is that different from say your Crusader?”

“Hm?” Logan said, looking up as Morty started to cackle, looking back over his shoulder at Cameron.

“Oh you’re new new ain’t ya kid?”

“I mean… Not that new,” Cameron said, feeling his ears heat up from embarrassment and regretting ever opening his mouth. Luckily, Logan was of the mind to actually answer his question instead of finding amusement from his ignorance.

“Yeah kid, there’s a difference,” He began, “My A.R.M.S. is a Crusader type, and a Denfender variant. Think of a type like a model and a variant like a classification. A type can be anything that a manufacturer will name a mech, but, special use cases aside, there’s only four variants; Defender, Support, Heavy, and Assault.”

“Alright,” Cameron said, nodding slowly, “I’m following ya. So what’s the difference.”

“Four things,” Logan said, holding up four fingers, “Speed, agility, output, and armor.”

“Two of those sound like the same thing,” Cameron said, highlighting the similarities between the first and third metric.

“You wanna keep interrupting or do you wanna shut up and listen?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow.

“… The latter.” Cameron said sheepishly.

Logan nodded, “Good. ANYWAYS,” He continued, “While two of these metrics sound similar, they’re not. Speed is the metric gauged by how fast a mech can move when in a straight line, while agility is just how much control the pilot will have at top speed. If you’re still confused think about it like this, if I shoot you with a rail rifle, it doesn’t matter how fast you run in straight line, but if you can run fast and flip around, suddenly you’re much harder to hit.”

“We should test that,” Aurora chimed in for the first time since the three of them entered the warehouse, “What do you say Cam?,” she said, cackling.

“What about output?” Cameron asked in an irritated growl, ignoring his mechanics prodding.

Logan chuckled, looking back at Aurora with a wry smile before focusing back on Cameron, “Output, is a metric that guages a unit’s offensive capabilities. It’s ability to slash, stab, or swing in rapid succession, when measured against the overall weight of a units armaments.”

“I thought that was determined on my own strength and stamina within the suit?” Cameron said, confusion evident in his tone.

“Well yes, but also no, and additionally kinda,” Logan said, offerring a sympathetic smile.

Cameron could feel his eye twitch as he looked at Logan like he had two heads, “Why are you making this so fucking complicated?”

“Why are you asking complicated questions?” Logan shot back, raising in eyebrow. Cameron had opened his mouth to speak, but Logan cut him off, doing his damndest to break it down into a more digestable format.

“Think about it like this; I can swing Crusaders mace around until my arm goes numb. Right now, I’m good for about one hundred swings before I’ve hit my limit, and need to release the weight. But that’s because Crusader’s output rating is low as hell. There’s barely any assistance, whether that be pneumatic, hydraulic, or boosted. It’s all pure strength and stamina on my part, the mech just mimics it on a massive scale. Following?”

“Barely,” Cameron said, reaching his hands up to rub the temples of his head as he felt his brain throb from from information overload.

“Good enough,” Logan said, continuing his educating rhetoric, “Now imagine if there was a boost jet in Crusaders elbow joint, or a hydraulic piston that engaged whenever my arm bent at a designated angle, to where, now instead of having to heave a massive, fuck-off mace up and down in combat, I only have to move it unassisted in one direction, before the mech steps in to guide the attack on the downswing, now suddenly that one hundred swings increases to two hundred swings. Now say, there’s a system of a boost jets that engages on said downswing… double that number again to four hundred.”

Realization was beginning to dawn on Cameron as he let out a quiet “Ohh… I get it.”

Logan smiled with a nod, “Yeah? Good. In closing, output summed up in a single sentence is this; The metric on how fast and hard a unit can hit.”

“So now where do these variants come in?” Cameron asked, looking forward to see Morty had raised a hand, silently halting their movement while he sauntered over to a control panel on the far right hand side, and began loudly typing on a keypad.

Logan turned to face Cameron fully, making use of his hands to emphasize his point, “Variants come in when we guage the pros and cons of each type of A.R.M.S. unit. Again, take Crusader,” He said, throwing a thumb back towards the direction of the ship bay, “It’s a defender unit, which means high Armor, decent speed, but shit output and agility. It can take a licking and keep on ticking, but it ain’t gonna win many races. That means my combat needs to center around blocking, parrying, and short dodges. But if I can’t dodge in time, at least I got giant fucking wall of steel between me and whoever is trying to turn me into a grease stain.”

“Fair enough,” Cameron said with a nod, “But what about the other three?”

Logan didn’t skip a beat, “Heavies are high output and high armor, with middling speed and a low top speed. They ain’t getting anywhere fast, but god help you if you let them touch you. Even if I take a hit from a unit like a Blacksmith with their giant hammers or a Wardens slab-sword, my shield is gonna do fuck all. Supports on the other hand are high agility, decent speed, with middling armor and low output. These are your Archer units, Slingers, Lancers, et cetera. Their whole deal is about evasive maneuvers and distracting the opponent long enough for the big boys to come in and put a guy down. They’re not often seen at these low ratings, and the ones that are, are snatched up quick.”

Cameron was practically humming with excitement. Listening to Logan describe the intricate gradings and classifications of A.R.M.S. units had gone from sounding like rocket science, to that of chess or poker. Every unit had their role to play and now he was ready to find out what his role was, “What about assault classes?” He asked, bouncing on his feet, ignoring their painful protests as he watched Logan look at him with a smirk.

“What about them indeed,” he said, chuckling softly, before taking a moment to ponder the question, “If I had to describe assaults, I’d say that they’re all gas and no breaks. High speed, amazing agility, and enough output to rival a god of war.”

“But.” Aurora said, raising her brow to look at Logan expectantly. He looked back at her, then to Cameron before he nodded with a sigh, continuing her train of thought.

“But,” He said, “Their armor is practically non-existent, if you get sneezed on by a heavy, you’re going into the ground. They’re cool and fast and fun, but you make one mistake and you’re dead.”

Cameron’s smile dropped instantly, his eyes narrowing as he looked at Logan, taking a while to respond, “And you want me, for my first time learning to work an A.R.M.S. unit, pilot something where if I’m not perfect one hundred pecent of the time, may as well be a dead man walking?”

Logan looked sheepish and looked away, rubbing the back of his neck and mumbling something under his breath. Aurora on the other hand was nonplussed, throwing an arm around Cameron and pulling him in close with a giggle.

“Look on the brightside Cam… either you win, or it’s suddenly no longer your problem.”

Cameron forced her away from him with a shove, looking between the pilot and the mechanic he up to this point considered his friends. “You guys are fucking insane.”

“No… we’re experienced, now stop your bitching and turn around,” Aurora said, point behind Cameron, causing him to turn and see Monty making a waving motion with his arm, whistling to get their attention as he spoke up.

“While I love a good lecture, are y’all ready to look at these things or not?”

“No!” Cameron called,

“Yes!” Aurora and Logan said in unison.

“Fuck.”

With the low rumble of heavy machinery and the rattling of chains, the conveyor belt came to life, inching its way across the width of the warehouse, and after a few moments, allowed Cameron to lay his eyes on the first of his six prospects.

It was a deep glossy red, the same hue of a dying star, paired with thick lines of black onyx that ran the trim of its layered armor plating that ran from the shoulders to the waist, and billowing out around the hips. Its arms and legs were sleek and thin, as a thick, sleeveless field of fabric fashioned into a knee-length coat that fluttered softly as the massive mech swung on two large hooks. A high collar came up to where the cheeks would be on a human face, as two high prongs the shape of antlers rose an additional meter above the head unit, held in place with a black plate bolted onto the forehead. On its hip, a seven meter Katana gleamed in the light, its thin blade so sharp it looked like it could make even the air bleed.

“Meet the Ronin,” Morty said, gesturing with a hand to the mech that pulled to a stop in front of them. He waited until the chains that held it suspended stopped their rusty squealing, and once they did, he began his sales pitch.

“Manufactured by the Tadakatsu Syndicate in the early 2700’s, the crowning jewel of this beauty is its high-frequency Katana that vibrates at such a high frequency it weakens the structural bonds of solid, allowing it to cut deeper than most other blades in its class. On top of that, with a reinforced frame and fifty-six boost jets spread across the chassis, you’re not going to have a problem with speed.”

As he spoke, Morty had turned on a screen positioned directly at the bottom of the Ronin. All at once, a series of numeric values scrolled rapidly across the screen. Eventually, the values settled onto a series of bar graphs that Cameron had to squint to see while Morty spoke again.

“Don’t take my word for it though, here’s the initial Alpha class metrics straight from the proving grounds,” He said, pointing towards the screen and motioning for them to approach. As they did, Cameron’s settled on what looked to be a stat page.

Model: AX2Y-Ronin Manufacturer: Tadakatsu Syndicate Height: 9.23 Meters Weight: 111.92 Tons Variant: Assault

Proving Scores;

Armor: 2.3 Speed: 5.6 Agility: 7.4 Output: 8.2

Cameron’s eyes scanned over the information multiple times, trying to take it all in, as Morty’s voice rang in his ear, offering insight into the information that Cameron was consuming.

“The higher the score, the better. Ten is the absolute peak a unit can perform. One being the absolute worst.”

“Damn,” Logan said, his voice coming from the other side as he was seemingly looking over Cameron’s shoulder, “Those stats ain’t bad. What do you think Aurora?”

“I think if we’re gonna come all the way out here,” Aurora chimed in, “we’re gonna get the best. And I don’t think this is it.”

Cameron could hear Morty beginning to sputter in offence, but before he got a word out, Aurora had reached over and pressed her finger to a flashing arrow on the right-hand side of the screen. Suddenly, the conveyor belt groaned to life, chains rattling loudly as they began to move, slowly pulling the Ronin from where it was in the center wall, to the open hole on the right side, ushering it out of sight.

“Hey!” Cameron called, looking back over his shoulder to his stone faced mechanic, “I was looking at that!”

“Was and are are two different things,” She said, shrugging nonchalantly, “Now stop fucking pouting you primadonna, we’re shopping for you remember? At least take a look at all there is to offer.”

Cameron rolled his eyes, but did as she ordered, turning back to watch as the short, boxy build of a berseker slowly came into view, twin hand axes dangling from the hips, painted a chocolate brown with green accents.

“Indigo Industries Berseker unit,” Morty started to explain as the mech was slowly ushered into view,“Dual wield ax user, with a focus on boost jumping. It’s got some slight modifications to it, so now you can get a hundred meter vertical and and thousand meter long jump from a running start.”

Cameron whistled, impressed and was in the process of looking down to study the units stats, when it was Logan’s turn to jump in, pressing the button to drag it out of view before it even got a chance to settle.

“What the fuck?!” Cameron exclaimed, shooting a glare at the other pilot, “Why not?!”

“Weak gyroscope in melee,” Logan said with a shrug, “You’re already having to dodge all the melee weapons, a fist or shoulder tackle shouldn’t match the list of potentially fatal blows,”

“Who’s picking the fucking mech?!” Cameron said, veins peeking out on the side of his neck in frustration.

“Who’s paying for it?” Logan shot back, eyebrow raised expectantly.

The quip instantly exstinguished Cameron’s anger, and he quickly looked away, speaking to Morty after a sharp clearing of his throat, “Ahem… what’s next?”

For the next half hour the trio stood, watching as mech after mech was dragged out from storage and presented to them while Morty gave a synopsis as to their history and features. So far, they’d seen an Apache, a unit specializing in short range fighting with a self returning tomahawk axe, a Fencer with it’s long and thin rapier that was built on short, swift dodges and parries, and a Turbine, it’s dual scimitar sword style perfect for skirmishing with multiple enemies at once. One by one, each unit had been passed over, either from Aurora’s issues with quality, or Logan’s first hand experience facing said unit in combat. In the end, as the Turbine was hauled away, another victim of the pairs reluctance, Cameron was barely holding his anger in check.

“Guys…” He said, tapping his forehead against the railing, the cold metal vibrating with a hollow thud with every self-inflicted strike, “Please… work with me here. All of these units have been perfectly fine! It’s not like there’s something out there that’s going to be such a perfect fit that we need to keep passing up these cool ass units!”

“First of all,” Logan said, his tone sounding as irritated as Cameron felt, “If I’m buything this thing, I’m getting my fucking monies worth, I’m not going to drop all this silver for a mech that you can swing a dead cat and hit ten people that pilot one. Second, how do you know we’re not gonna find one that’s a perfect fit for you?”

“Because this isn’t a fucking fairy tale dude!” Cameron said, shooting up straight and turning to look at Logan, “I can make due with whatever! Just fucking pick one already so I can acutally pilot something!”

“Good things come to those who wait,” Aurora said in a sing song voice.

“I will hit a child!”

“Can everyone please just calm down?” Morty said, hands raised in an attempt to placate the bickering trio, “I’m trying to run a business here and you three screaming like a bunch of psychos aren’t exactly helping to draw in customers.”

“Did… did he just call us crazy?” Aurora said, jerking a thumb into the mech merchant’s direction.

“And you’re going to gloss over the fact your new pilot just threatened to hit you?” Morty asked in response.

“Alright! Alright! Enough!” Logan called out, instantly causing a hush to fall over the room, save for the industrial hum of heavy machinery in the background. He looked around, meeting the eyes of all present, before he let out a heavy sigh, closing his while he slowly massaged his temples. After a moment, he spoke, his tone soft and calm despite the irritation that existed between all of them.

“Morty… do you have any other assault variants? Or were those all there was to see?”

“Let me check,” Morty said, bringing out a data-pad from somewhere on his person as he began to tap and swipe away on the surface. After a few moments he stopped and grimaced slightly, before responding in an unsure tone, “I got one left but it’s a little… weird,” he said, looking up from the screen for a brief moment to meet Logan’s questioning gaze.

“Weird how?” Logan asked, voicing what was on the other’s minds.

“Well,” Morty said, sighing as he swiped back and forther on the screen, “It’s not a production model. Limited release, only a few hundred were made. Hell, the companies not even operating anymore. On top of that,” He trailed off, his eyes scrolling down the screen, seemingly reading something that had appeared relavent. “This thing had some custom order shit tacked onto it. I have it here in my records that it was dropped off about five years ago, for some reason though, they never came back,”

“Well that’s not creepy at all,” Aurora said sarcastically.

“Who was the pilot?” Logan asked, intrigue evident on his features.

There was another long silence as Morty checked his records, eventually looking up with a shrug, “Not sure, all that the files say is REDACTED,”

“Oh great,” Aurora said, throwing her hands up in irritation, “Act now and you can be the proud owners of a dead man’s prototype.”

Morty shrugged, looking nonplussed, as he stared at Logan, “It’s the last one I got, you wanna take a look at it, or not?”

It took him a few moments to come to a decision, spending the time in silent contemplation as he looked between Cameron and Aurora, before offering a shrug and a shake of the head, “Fuck it, go ahead and bring it out,”

“You got it,” Morty said, pressing a button on his data-pad as the familiar rattling of the chains started up again.

The group gathered together in the center, heads craned towards the storage entrance, waiting to be the first to catch a look at this mysterious mech.

“So what’s it called anyways?” Cameron asked, looking back over his shoulder towards Morty.

The man smirked, flashing a toothy grin as the a shadow began to form at the entrance.

“The Headsman.”

---

The first thing that Cameron laid eyes on, was the gentle waving of thick black fabric. It was old and frayed along the edges, littered with holes and tears that grew in the number the more the Headsman’s frame was hauled into view.

“Holy shit…” Logan said under his breath, awestruck by the fearsome machine that hung in front of him.

“I think holy is the wrong term here, boss,” Cameron said, matching Logan’s hushed tones with a quiet reverence of his own, “This thing looks like a fucking monster.”

It wasn’t its size or shape that caught the men off guard. In fact, by metrics alone, the unit was practically average in all aspects. Standing at a perfect ten meters in height, the chassis wasn’t going to stand head and shoulders above all others. Nor would it’s color scheme, sporting a dull gunmetal gray, with accent lines of the deepest black. No, it was everything else that made it uniquely terrifying. The large seven meter long black blade for instance, clutched tightly in rest pose by a pair of gleaming, claw tipped hands. Filed flat and wide down to a dangerous two-toned colored double edge, and lacked a point, eschewing the ability to thrust and replaced with a dull squared-off end. The bulk of the chassis was hidden behind a thick black poncho, its fabric frayed and ripped in various places, giving the unit a more imperfect and human quality to it. Until they gazed upon the helm, where, under the shadows of loose fitting hood, a bone white skull plate stood out prominently, hiding the azure tint of two sapphire eyes.

The Headsman was indeed a beast straight out of a nightmare. An amalgamation of metal, fabric and glass, shaped into a fearsome visage of death and destruction.

The trio of Cameron, Logan, and Aurora stood in silence for what felt like an eternity. So heavy was the quiet, that Morty’s clearing of his throat was enough to cause in echo in the open space, before he began to rattle off the Headsman’s history.

“Meet the first and last product that Harbinger A.R.M.S. Industries ever produced, The HAI-01 Headsman,” He said, sweeping a hand up to regard the machine before continuing, “Originally designed to function as a shock and awe unit, the Headsman’s modus operandi was based on one word; momentum.”

He reached up and knocked on the center of the flat black blade, drawing out a hollow clang that echoed in a deep resonating tone, before moving over to one of the sides and knocking again. This time, instead of a hollow echo, there was heavy thunk that seemed to absorb all energy and sound. There was no echo or resonating force, it was seemingly taken in by the blade itself.

“Tungsten carbide edges,” Morty said, looking back at the trio, “With a steel inner core, the bladed sections are flash welded onto the frame. Each edge weighs in around three tons. All together, the sword is about seven tons, which at face value doesn’t seem like much, but when you factor in the Headman's overall weight at just barely seventy tons, you’re essentially swinging around ten percent of your body weight with every strike.”

Logan let out an impressed whistle, “That thing would hit like a freighter.”

“Yes it would,” Aurora said, arms crossed as she gazed up into the skull plate, “To bad your arms would be out of their sockets from having the stop your arc.”

Morty grinned impishly, shaking his head while tsking at the young mechanic, “That’s by design, you see…” He began, hitting a button on his tablet that as he spoke. Suddenly a litany of tiny boosters began to flare, covering the Headsman from head to toe in an angry orange light.

“Why would you stop a swing, when you can carry the momentum into an additional attack?”

Logan was quiet for a long while, simply staring slack jawed in awe at the Headsman, looking quickly between Morty and the Mech before bringing a slightly shaking finger to point at the unit.

“H-How many boosters are on this thing?”

“Originally? four hundred and fifty.” Morty said nonchalantly.

“Four hundred and fifty?!” Logan and Aurora exclaimed together, looking again between the mech and salesman as he laughed.

“That’s nothing. Now it’s more like a thousand, now if you look here -”

“YOU PUT A THOUSAND BOOSTERS ON AN ASSAULT CLASS!?!” Logan cried, his shout ringing out even louder than the high pithced hum of the Headsman’s boosters.

Morty nodded, speaking matter-of-factly, “You bet your ass I did. The client wanted a minimum of two boosters for every joint, in order to maximize manuverability. Got the job listing for it right here. I think the thought behind it was to pilot it in such a way to follow up one attack with another, using a mix momentum and quick bursts of speed to deliver strikes from odd angles so fast that the enemy wouldn’t have time to register and block.”

There was another long silence before Aurora’s skeptical timbre rang out once again. “And your thought, in order to accomplish this task, was not to double, triple, or quadruple the maximum amount of boosters put on a mech… ever, this particular unit being the outlier, but in fact quintuple it?”

Morty’s grin grew wider, “Pretty damn ingenous if I say so myself.”

“No,” Aurora said, correcting the man, “This is by fair the most dangerous and moronic thing I’ve ever heard of. What kind of childish, backwater, adrenaline chasing idiot would think it a good idea to crawl into that deathtrap?”

“Logan…” Cameron said, reverance clear in his voice as he finally managed to pry himself away from gazing on the most beautiful machine he’d ever laid eyes on, speaking in a hushed whisper as he grasped at the mans collar, “I need it.”

“Oh… That idiot,”

Logan found himself at a crossroads as pried Cameron’s hands off of his collar and took a step back. He held up a hand as if to signal that he needed a moment, before turning his back and pacing, stroking his goatee as he contemplated. On one hand, a pilot’s desire to be in their unit was as if not more important than the unit itself. Passion and drive were powerful factors that would carry Cameron far, especially when it would come to learning a mech new not to just him, but to the greater Fleet as well.

But that latter point was what concerned him. The Headsman was a variable that he, nor anyone he knew had seen before. Sure, the description sounded awesome on paper… but what about in practice? What if the reason the pilot never came back, wasn’t because they died, but had come to their senses about such an idiot premise to build an A.R.M.S. on? He needed more information.

“What other metrics do you know about the think Morty?” He asked, turning to face the man as he spoke.

“Logan are you nuts?” Aurora asked, stepping forward to look at him with concern in her eyes, “You can’t seriously be considering this?”

“I am,” He said with a nod as he looked over to her, his voice becoming sharper at her questioning, “And unlike Cam, I know what I’m doing, so unless I ask for your input, keep it to yourself. There’s too much going on right now without everyone chiming it every two seconds with their own little comments.”

Her eyes widened for a moment, before she nodded, sucking her teeth as she took a step back, holding her hands up to acquiescence. “You got… boss,” she said, saying the last word like a curse.

Logan sighed, feeling a headache coming on. The girl was rough around the edges, that much was for certain. But she had a point in her objections. At the end of the day, she was seeing this as Logan should be seeing it… Like an investment. Still, he wanted to know more, and she’d get over it… he hoped.

He turned to face Morty who greeted him with a questioning look. Logan simply replied with one of his own before giving the merchant the floor, “Anything else you care to share about this thing? Any defenses? Or is it just full tilt with zero counter measures?”

Morty blinked, then looked back down towards his tablet, trying to find his place in order to keep shilling the mech.

“Let’s see here… defenses,” He said quietly, as if only to himself, while he scrolled with his thumb.

“Ah, here we are,” He said after a few moments, giving it a quick read before looking back up, “Alright, so to answer your question, yes, but also no.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, “Care to expound on that, bud?”

“I can certainly try, you see, the sword isn’t the only thing that contains tungsten carbide,” he said, walking back towards the railing and pointing up to the claw tipped fingers that held the massive black blade.

“The palms of the gauntlets are plated with tungsten. Being a hand and a half sword, the idea is to have one hand grasping the hilt, while using your free hand to deflect and guide strikes away from unit and… trust me, you’re going to need it.”

“Well why do you say it like that?” Cameron asked, earning a glare from Logan, who eventually gave Morty the gesture to continue.

“We-Well,” Morty began, pulling at the collar of his shirt, suddenly looking fidgety and uncomfortable “It has to do with the units proving scores. Erm… see for yourself.”

Morty pushed a few buttons on the tablet, and the screen at the center railing glowed to life, information passing across the screen rapidly before settling on a Chassis Proving Synopsis. Logan made his way towards the screen, but he hadn’t even cleared a few feet before Cameron piped up again, coming to the Headsman’s defence.

“Logan,” He said, his eyes pleading as he spoke, “Look… no matter what that screen says, I know I can pilot this thing how it should be, I can feel it. So please, please, regardless of the line scores… give me a chance with it.”

Logan looked at Cameron for a while, eyeing the boy up, before scoffing and shaking his head, leaning in so only the two of them could hear his words.

“Kid, I know you’re in love with it. But you need to realize that this and you an extent, YOU are investments for me. I’ve already put my neck on the line to get you here, now I need to make sure I can get a mech for a decent enough price for that investment to bear fruit,”

In all honesty, Logan hated saying that to the kid. Was it true? Absolutely. Did he need to know it? Not at all. He felt his stomach squeeze itself in disgust from sounding like some corp rat. But to his surprise, the kid didn’t even blink. His face didn’t fall into sadness or despair. If anything, Logan thought he could see Cam’s jaw set in firm understanding, before he retorted.

“If you want to protect your investment, then you’ll let me pilot this thing. They can’t kill me if they’re already dead.”

Logan blinked, trying to understand what had just been said, then he grinned, a deep, hearty laugh erupting from somewhere deep in his belly as he clapped the kid on the shoulder, “Alright, alright. I get it. Let me go take a look and we’ll go from there.”

Seeing Cameron’s nod of acceptance was enough for Logan as he approached the screen, leaning down to analyze the Headsman’s stats. He’d only made it a few lines before he stopped, reading and re-reading the same line.

“What the fuck…” He said under his breath, reading the same four lines over and over trying to make sense of what he was seeing.

“It can’t be…” He muttered, smacking the screen to make sure it wasn’t a glitch. But it wasn’t. What Logan was seeing was accurate, and it made it even harder for him to believe.

“Aurora?!” He called, excitement and concern in his voice, “Get over here. Now.”

He could hear her footsteps echoing the warehouse as she approached him from behind.

“What’s up?” She asked, leaning in close, “ Regretting your - oh my god what the fuck?!”

“Good, glad I’m not the only one,” He said, a smill forming on his face as he watched her slap the screen once again like he had just done. When nothing change, her eyes grew even wider than they were before.

“That’s not possible,” She said under her breath.

“Apparentally it is,” He said, clearing his throat and turning to Cameron who looked for lack of a better term worried. He was chewing the nail on his thumb, bouncing eagerly on the balls of his feet as he waited for a decision. Lucky for him, Logan had made one.

“You sure you want to pilot this thing kid?” He asked,

It took Cameron a moment, a questioning look crossing his face as he looked around before finally responding, “Well… what’s the scores say?”

“Not what I asked,” Logan called back, “Yes or no?”

Cameron didn’t even hesitate, nodding eagerly as a smile dared to form at the corners of his mouth, “Hell yes,”

Logan smiled and nodded, turning to Morty and giving him a nod in affirmation, “Get the paperwork ready bud, figure out if you want it in silver or trade.”

“You got it,” The merchant said, scuttling off before anyone would say otherwise.

With that done, Logan turned to Cameron and gave a shrug, “Remember kid, you asked for this.”

Cameron’s eyes went wide and he threw his arms in the air, letting out a celebritory whoop, before Logan held up a hand to stop him.

“Before you get to excited. Go check out the line scores.”

Cameron didn’t need to be told twice, jogging up to the screen and squeezing in next to Aurora to study the details of his very own mech.

Logan smiled as he watched the kid go. His smile grew even wider as he heard Cameron’s yells in quick succession, already knowing what had been transcribed on the screen.

“Holy shit…. HOLY SHIT… wait…. WHAT THE FUCK?!”

Model: HAI-01 Headsman Manufacturer: Harbinger A.R.M.S. Industries Height: 10 Meters Weight: 70.01 Tons Variant: Assault

Proving Scores;

Speed: 8.2 Agility: 10.0 Output: 10.0 Armor: 0.8

---

“ZERO POINT FUCKING EIGHT?!” Cameron yelled, his eyes wide disbelief.

“Can you stop yelling? Your voice is annoying enough without it being blasted directly into my ears,” Aurora said, voice neutral and nonplussed.

“How can you be so calm about this?!” He shouted again, slightly lowering his volume, but it still earned him a hard smack to the back of his head from the young mechanic.

“I tired to be nice, dumbass now I’m telling you, calm the fuck down,” She growled, blinking slowly before speaking again through clenched teeth, “And I’m calm, because I told you this was bad idea. But instead you got a hard on for a souped up mech with a big sword and flashy paint job and just had to have it! Well congratulations, you have it now. Have fun dodging missle fire, because that shit-ass chassis can barely stop a rail cannon shot! MAYBE!”

“… Can you stop yelling?”

“I will rip those fucking threads out Cam!”

“Alright, enough!” Logan shouted above his bickering employees, grabbing their attention as the both turned to look at him, faces relaying everything they wanted to say without actually having to say it. Cameron’s wide eyes and grinding teeth was his way of asking ‘What do I do?” while Aurora’s raised eyebrow and scrunched up nosed simply said, ‘I told you so.’

Logan sighed heavily, rubbing his temples with his eyes closed as he tried to think. After a few moments he was finally able to think of a plan, turning to look at Cameron.

“So even though you quote unquote ‘need to pilot this thing’, the fact that it lacks armor scares you doesn’t it?”

“Yeah?” Cameron said, making a face as if to say, of course his concers were validated, “Like yeah I know I can pilot this thing, hell, I can fucking feel it. But I’m not an idiot. Not only will this be my first time piloting a mech using my actual body, but on top of that, it’s a mech that can be called at the very least ‘twitchy’. Like… is it going to actually be possible for me to learn how to pilot it?”

“It better be,” Logan said, not breaking eye contact with the kid, “If I’m buying this fucking thing, I better get some value out of it.”

“So what do you suggest I do then Logan?” Cameron said, throwing his arms up in frustration, “It’s not like there’s some fucking training simulation we can put our mechs in that’ll virtually create an environment for me to learn how to walk in an A.R.M.S. unit!”

Logan flashed a wry smile at this, “There isn’t?”

He turned then and gave Aurora a look, which caused her to drag her hand down her face as she groaned in frustration, marching off away from the two of them while calling over her shoulder, “I’ll go extend our reservation and get Crusader loaded up,”

Cameron watched her go for a moment, looking between Aurora and Logan, before turning back to his mentor, raising an eyebrow and throwing a thumb back to where she was walking, “… What was that all about?”

Logan simply shrugged, his grin going wider, “Call it… a good guess on your part.”

“Why don’t I like the sound of that?”

“You shouldn’t”

---

A couple of hours later, Cameron found himself in the bowels of Arsius station, standing on top of a platform at the foot of the Headsman, as Aurora attached a litany of cables to what looked to be a cushioned metal recliner.

“So… what is this again?” He asked, watching her work and curse, not bothering to look up and meet his gaze.

“For the last time, it’s a Physilight Projection System.” She said, growling out another expletive before hooking the final cable into the chair before standing up and clapping her hands together in an attempt to wipe away the oil stains.

“You sit in the chair, I through the switch, your body goes unconscious and your actual consciousness is lazered onto a biochip that is then inserted into a physilight proxy emitter. The system then projects that image as a copy of your mech onto that field.” She finished, pointing out to a field around five hundred yards in length and a thousand yards in width.

“It copies everything about your machine and is the closest thing you can get to a real-world scenario. You’ll feel pain, adrenaline, the works. For you, this is how you’re going to learn to pilot. The system has an imprinting affect and, just like the real world, with enough repetition, you’re going to learn how to pilot. Any other stupid questions?”

Cameron opened his mouth, attempting to think of a snappy quip or smartass remark, but words were failing him at this moment, so he just settled for the obvious, “Why didn’t we do this before, when I was learning to pilot a squire?”

She scoffed and rolled her eyes, almost offended at his question, “Because squires are a dime a dozen and this system costs the equivalent of two EarthGov worlds. No one’s gonna waste time putting a squire in here.”

“Oh…” He said, the fact of the obvious causing him to blush sheepishly.

“Yeah,” She said, in agreement with his ignorance, “Now… get in the fucking chair so we can get this shit show underway.”

She motioned for Cameron to sit, which he obeyed, and could barely adjust himself, before Aurora shoved a helmet on his head. It was big and bulky with a long tale snaking down his back, just long enough to pressed into his Synaptic Uplink at the nape of his neck, which Aurora obliged, snapping it into place with a firm ‘click’.

“Alright,” She said, taking a step back to admire her work, before stepping off the platform and making her way to a large level bolted onto a non-descript white pillar. She gripped the handle and turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

“You ready?” She asked.

“Almost he said, anxiet settling into the back of his mind as he looked at her, “Is it going to hurt?”

“God I hope so,” She said, throwing the switch without another word, and sending Cameron’s mind plummeting in an etheral void of nothingness.

Cameron regained consciousness a few seconds later, no longer sitting in the cushioned metal chair with a heavy helmet strapped to his head. Instead, he was standing out in the middle of the field. Well, standing wasn’t the correct term, he’d decided. It was more like he was floating, suspended high above the ground, locked into place from an unknown force, as he stared fifty meters down the field to find Logan in the same situation.

“What the hell…” He muttered, trying to will his body to move, but alas, it was as if he was clamped in place, held by some invisible force that wasn’t quite ready to articulate him yet. In fact, the only movement he managed, was the frantic turning of his head looking around in a worried daze.

“Just relax!” Logan called out, pulling Cameron’s attention to him. His body was held aloft by the same invisible force that kept Cameron’s body prisoner, contorted into a pose of crucifixion.

“W-What’s happening?” Cameron called back, trying his best to settle the anxiety creeping up the back of his spine.

“It’s just part of the process,” Logan assured him, “Human bodies are a lot smaller to project, so they end up appearing first.”

Almost as if on cue, a robotic, feminine voice rang out overhead, filling the entire room with her cold and neutral tone.

“Pilot consciousness upload. Beginning frame projection.”

As soon as the voice finished speaking a hole on the side wall formed, opening up with a whirring sound. Once completely open, a black bulb protruded outward before a series a bright colored lights flashed across Cameron’s body, as well as the surrounding space. Lines of bright orange light began to take shape, forming sharp angular lines as the beams pulsed and drew something in the open air. It was only when he looked across at Logan, that Cameron understood just what was being created from the lights as he saw his mentor, still suspended in place, but this time he was in the center cockpit of a wireframe model of the Crusader.

“That’s so cool!” Cameron exclaimed, his anxiety giving way to excitement as he watched the lines finish the crusaders details, before looking down to see that he too was standing in a wireframe model of his own mech, the sleek, angular curves of the Headsman displayed prominently identifying it as such.

“You haven’t seen the best part yet!” Logan called, causing Cameron to lookup, but before he could respond, the robotic voice was back again, ready to prep for the next phase of whatever was going to happen.

“Frame projection complete, beginning detail injection.”

The wireframe models began to glow and pulse, blinking rapidly in place before Cameron’s vison of Logan and his crusader was cut off, replace instead by a cool bare slab of metal that was marked COCKPIT: FORWARD FACE in giant black blocky letters.

“What the hell?” He muttered, looking around as, one by one, his vision to arena outside was replaced by slabs of iron, colored in a gunmetal gray, and looked so real that Cameron felt like he could almost see his reflection in on of the side panes before the cockpit was fully enclosed, leaving him in pitch blackness with nothing but his thoughts and the feminine voice to keep him company.

“Detail injection complete, beginning internal retrofitting.”

A light came on from seemingly nowhere inside the cockpit and Cameron’s eyes went wide as he was no longer staring a simple bare metal shell but instead, a true authentic cockpit. His feet were not standing a platform, but instead, a single peg rested underneath the arch of each foot, held into place by an iron shackle that was securely fashioned around each ankle. Similarly, his arms were placed into a slot on either side of his body, a black cushioned cuff fitting snuggly over his rotator cuff.

Cameron was speechless, so in awe of what he was seeing, that he almost didn’t hear the next intercom message until the voice had nearly finished the sentence.

“Internal retrofitting complete, beginning nervous system integration and synaptic uplink imitation.”

“Synaptic uplink immi- Ah fuck!” He yelped, feeling a sharp pain jab into the back of his neck, causing his eyes to involuntarily tear up as he squeezed them shut. Up until this point, Cameron hadn’t felt a thing, the system seemingly numbing his sense of touch as it went about setting everything up. But now, apparantelly, he could feel, and all he feel was pain. He hissed and sighed, blinking open his eyes.

“What the hell was tha-” He stopped mid sentence, highly aware of the fact that he was no longer staring at a dimly cockpit. No, Cameron instead found himself looking down to the bare metal floor of the arena itself, brightly lit with flourescent bulbs and shining down on him… and his newly acquired metal feet. Large metal feet, which they themselves were attached to large, gunmetal colored legs. His eyes went wide as he looked up and around. His body wasn’t his own anymore. There were no meaty appendages of flesh, they had all been replaced by massive, long, shafts of metal and hydraulics.

“L-Logan?!” He called, having to do a double take as he heard the slight crackle of static coming from his voice, “What the hell is going on!?”

In response, Cameron head Logan’s laughter coming from the direction of what looked to be a perfect recreation of his Crusader, his hearty chuckles also being accompanied by a soft static hum.

“Well…,” He said a moment, taking longer than Cameron thought was necessary to stop laughing, “Better here than on a contract I suppose.”

“What does that mean!?” Cameron shouted back, “And why does my voice sound like it’s coming through a speaker?”

“Because it is,” Logan said, a hint of amusement in his voice, “This is how A.R.M.S. pilots talk without a headset. You just never heard it because you’ve been in a Squire up until now. That’s also why you can see. You’re Synaptic Uplink feeds directly into your mechs occular headpiece.”

Cameron had to do a double take, shaking his head, and feeling a slight sluggish and heavy tug as he did so.

“Wait a second,” He said, disbelief evadent in his voice, “You mean to tell me-”

“Yes,” Logan said, the Crusader’s headpiece making a nodding motion as he spoke, “Congrats kid, consider this your first taste of being an A.R.M.S. pilot.”

---

Cameron spent a few arduous hours cursing and crashing as Logan ran him through the basics of A.R.M.S. movement. In theory, the concept was simple; Think of the mech as an extension of your own body and behave appropriately. When you were to move your arms inside the Cameron spent a few arduous hours cursing and crashing as Logan ran him through the basics of A.R.M.S. movement. In theory, the concept was simple; Think of the mech as an extension of your own body and behave appropriately. When you were to move your arms inside the aperature of the cockpit, the unit mimicked them. When you wanted to take a step, you simply lifted your leg, which was then held in the air by iron shackles until you placed your foot back down on the peg of corressponding ligament. Simple to understand, and supposedly… easy to learn.

In practice however, Cameron had gone about three hours, where his most successful accomplishment was being able to move his head. Besides that, it was hard to will his body in a way that felt natural. He was trying to find a middle ground between the stiff, clinging pull of the uplink threads screwed into his body, constantly trying to guide him with their gentle hydraulic sway, with the twitchy bursting movements that the Headsman wanted to do. More than once, he had went to take a single step, before the boosters on his feet activated, their high power and the mechs lightweight frame combining in comicial way to leave him staring up at the cieling as he crashed to the ground.

It was here where he found himself once again, on his ass and cursing his decision to pilot this blasted thing, when he heard the hard heavy crunch of feet next to him. Turning slightly, Cameron looked up into Crusader’s head unit, and for the briefest moments, he could have sworn that the neutral face of stamped metal was glaring at him in with a look of judgement.

“Can I help you?!” He called out, aggravation intensifying at the static that accompanied his voice, and Logan’s silence.

“You are… terrible at this,” Logan said, chuckling with amusement.

“I’m sure you were just as bad as I was,” Cameron growled back.

“I don’t know about that,”

“Are you gonna help me up? Or are you gonna stand there smirking with a smug sense of superiority?”

“How do you know I’m smirking?”

“Because I fucking know! Now are you gonna help me up or not?”

“Nah, you got it.”

“I hate you… so much,” Cameron huffed, doing his best to roll over onto his stomach, but as he got to his knees, he must have over corrected, because the boosters on his lower back and thighs flared, rocketing him forward and causing him to slide on his face for about twenty-five meters before crashing headfirst into the wall barrier wall. He must have crashed harder than he had previously, because instead of looking around the arena, he instead he found himself shooting up in the chair of the Physilight Projection System, gasping for as if he’d been holding his breath as he looked around in a daze.

“W-What… What’s going on?” He said, struggling to catch his breath.

“You died,” Aurora said, drawing Cameron’s attention as he gave a sharp intake of breath.

“So this is my hell then… stuck here with you?” He reached up to clutch at imaginary pearls, “What did I do to deserve this?!”

“Not actual death, dumbass,” She said, rolling her eyes and pointing towards the monitor that all the connections to Cameron’s helmet was coming out of, “It monitors every aspect of you mech, including its armor score. So when that armor would theoretically be breached and the pilot would be killed by doing something stupid like kissing a wall at a hundred miles an hour, it’s going to mimic that by ending the simulation and returning your consciousness to your body.”

“Oh…” Cameron said, feeling a blush heating his cheeks as he looked back out towards the field where Crusader was still standing, “Yeah that makes sense.”

“You need to stop forcing it,” She said, crossing her arms and eyeing him in a way that was reminiscent of a scolding mother.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” She said, speaking slowly as if to emphasize her point, “You’re trying to fight the boost system of the Headsman in order to slow down it’s movements, but youre moving so slow that it ends up stiff and jerky, which in reaction causes the system to work harder to go where it wants, and you end up your ass.”

“I’m not trying to!” Cameron exclaimed, throwing his hands up in exasperation, “This shit is hard. Isn’t there supposed to be some VI to help me with this stuff?”

“Yes,” Aurora said, nodding slowly, “But the system struggles with registering another VI system so it focuses on just the basic functions. Point is, you’re learning movement the hard way.”

“So what do you suggest?” Cameron asked, earning a loud sigh from the mechanic.

“What the hell did I just say?” She said, sounding irritated, “Stop being a bitch and lean into the speed. This is why you wanted it isn’t it?”

Cameron looked down, embarassed for asking, “I mean… yeah,”

“Exactly, so instead of complain, learn how to work with it.”

“But-”

“Now back in you go,” She said, cutting him off as she threw the switch once again, forcing Cameron unconscious and throwing him back into the Headsman’s cockpit.

“Well… this is helpful at least,” He said after a moment, blinking his eyes to see the arena before him once again, “I didn’t have to wait for it to render.”

“Yeah,” Logan said, leaning on the handle of Crusader’s mace, watching him, “Luckily, once a mech is registered for a session, the system keeps it on hand. Makes it for quicker transitions from death to reset.”

“Sweet, I’m definitely gonna need it, I feel,”

“So…” Logan said, the Crusader setting down it’s armaments as it crossed it’s arms, reflecting Logan’s actions, “Did you learn anything during your little break?”

Cameron chewed his lip, trying to formulate a way to put Auroras tips into action.

“I think so…” He said, “Let me see.”

Cameron took a deep breath, finding his center, as he focused his intent on one thing; no matter what, don’t fall.

He squat low, taking his time to not make any sudden movements, leaning into the way his threads were pulling him as he dug his claws into the floor.

“What are you-” Logan started to say, but Cameron didn’t hear him. Instead, he focused on the high pitched whirring of the boosters on his back priming. With an audible click, he knew it was time, looking up and leaning forward, releasing his grip on the tiles.

The boosters flared, and Cameron shot forward like a bullet out of a gun, quickly pumping his legs as he flew past Logan. He grit his teeth, trying to orient himself into a more upright stance. His eyes focused at the far wall in the distance, a point that was fast approaching as the Headsman continued it’s mad dash, cutting through the air like a knife through butter.

“Come on…” He growled, feeling the strain increase in intensity, still, the threads weren’t fighting him as much as before. Instead, they were sluggish guiding him into an upright position, allowing him to rise to his full ten meters in height. He didn’t have time to celebrate however, as the wall grew closer and closer.

“Come on…”

He tried to adjust, to turn and avoid collision, but it was no use, the strain pressing on him was too much, as the Headsman stubbornly clung to the ground. Fifty meters quickly turned into twenty-five, then fifteen, then ten.

“Come the fuck on!” He bellowed, voice raw and scratchy, as with in effort he took a leap, finally leaving the ground at nearly double the Headsman’s height.

Time seemed to slow for Cameron, as he watched his descent. The wall was upon him… now he just had to avoid it. Fortunately, he had a plan for it. Unfortunately, he didn’t just how well it was going to work.

“Fuck it,” He said, pushing his feet out in front of him, hoping he’d made the right call.

He had.

A few meters before he impacted, twin boosters on the bottom of his feet turned on full blast, quickly slowing his movment to a stop, softening his landing to just before the point of impact. Cameron was so in awe that he almost forgot to continue his movement, but luckily he reacted in time, banking hard to the right. The Headsman obeyed, boosters firing on his left side torso and sending him hard to the right, following closely to the wall as he carved up the distance quickly, no longer making a running motion, but instead, standing stationary, his legs shoulder width apart as he squared his shoulders, leaning into his movement.

“HELL YES!” He bellowed, his smile so wide that it hurt his cheeks. Yes, it was sloppy, yes he very nearly toppled over multiple times, but he’d made it, and that’s what mattered.

He continued his path, quickly skating the distance, before he reached the middle section of the wall, and he banked hard to the right again, shooting off into the center of the arena, before leaning back, coming to grinding halt a few meters away from the Crusader, nearly flipping forward and crashing as he slowed.

“Well…” He said, breathing heavy, unawre that he’d been holding his breath, “Wasn’t as cool of a landing… but yeah… I do think I learned something.”

Killian Gray drummed his fingers on the polished mahogany wood, waiting impatiently for his client to show themselves. He looked around the opulent room the guards had escorted him to. It was richly furnished and warm, comfortable, and well lit by candlelight, driving all the shadows away from all but the most narrow crevices carved from the black obsidian walls. Those walls were what he despised most about this place. Polished to a mirror shine, he could clearly see the scars that criss-crossed his pale, shave head, running from the top of his head and down his face, like jagged, ugly mementos of battles hard fought.

“Where the hell is this guy?” He growled out, his native earthling accent sounding oily and thick, reminiscent of the South African region from where he was born.

Dragging a long shaky nail across the table repeatedly, he tried everything he could to take his mind off the pulsing headache ripping through his frontal lobe. His withdrawals had increased in intensity since he broke through the Sirius tier of Gamma class. Now he was lucky if he could manage a full day without a binaric intake. How unfortunate for him his symptoms started now, right before meeting a client. He tried to sit still, tried to not focus on the way his skin felt like something was burning underneath his skin, or the how his stomach was threatening to void itself at the mere mention of water. Fuck, he needed a hit.

A door opened behind him, pulling him from his thoughts of discomfort, as a deep booming voice filled the room with a false sense of warmth.

“Good evening Mr. Gray,”

“Howzit?” Killian said, turning to see a mountain of a man clad in a flowing white robe, young and dark-skinned with a mop of white hair combed over, hiding one of his golden eyes. He watched the man make his way from where he stood in the threshold, to sit across from him at the head of the table. When he spoke, Killian clocked the golden gleam of plated canines.

“My name,” The man said, holding his arms out in a symbol of passivity, “Is Seprith Caustos, Prince of Amreith.”

“Alright,” Killian said, tweaking his head to the side slightly, and closing his eyes as a fresh wave of nausea washed over him, “Now that introductions are out of the way, care to tell me what the hell I’m doing here?”

Caustos tsked, a smirk forming out of one of the corners of his mouth, “My my, so impatient. Tell me,” he said, leaning forward to rest his chin on the palms of his hands, “How bad are the withdrawals for a Sirus ranked Gamma class?”

If the remark was supposed to throw Killian off, he didn’t show it. Instead, he simply scoffed, responding with a growling sneer, “They’re not pleasant.”

“I can imagine,” Caustos said, nodding while offering a false look of sympathy, “It’s a shame, you know.”

“What is?” Killian asked, to which Caustos responded with a shrug.

“I mean, I’d heard of the great exploits of Killian Gray for years. Hunter of hunters. The mech murderer. But sitting across from you I don’t see that.”

“Oh?”

“Indeed, you see,” Caustos said, his eyebrow raising slightly, “Right now, I’m seeing a shell of a inhabiting the body of a once great warrior. I’m seeing a junkie looking for his next fix. It’s a shame really.”

“I don’t really care what you see, you spoiled brat,” Killian said, irritation overpowering his current ailment, “Are we here to do business, or are you just going to run your mouth until I get fed up enough to leave for more serious prospects?”

Caustos merely smiled, looking at Killian for a long time. Long enough for Killian to growl in frustration, pushing away from the table as he stood, muttering about wasted time and silver. As he did so however, his mumbling was broken by the clattering of an object being tossed across the table towards him. Looking down, Killians eyes focused on the familiar shape of a binaric jack. He looked up at Caustos, searching his eyes for the hidden intent behind his actions, but failing to gleam anything, decided to voice his curiosity.

“Just what the hell are you playing at, boy?” He spat, saying the last word like a curse.

Caustos chuckled softly, bringing a hand to cover his mouth as he did so, “Consider it a gift,” He said, motioning with his hand towards the sharp metallic spike, “I know I wouldn’t want to conduct business suffering through withdrawls, which means I wouldn’t expect my guest to either. Please.”

Killian eyed the object for a long while, mulling over the pros and cons on what to do. A sharp jabbing pain in his skull made his decision for him however, causing him to quickly snatch up the jack and swiftly plunge it into his synaptic uplink, cooing in relief as a fresh injection of binary rushed through his system.

“Better?” Caustos asked, raising an appraising eyebrow.

“Much so,” Killian said, a soft smile daring to cross his face.

“Excellent, now please…” Caustos gestured with his hand to the chair Killian had been sitting in a moment before, “Would you care to join me so we can conduct business on a level field?”

Killian didn’t audibly respond, but he did as requested, plopping down in the chair and placing his elbows on the table, leaning forward with interest, “So… Prince Caustos,” He said slowly, highlighting his patrons honorific, “If you know who I am, then that explains why I’m here… Who do you want put in the dirt?”

Caustos’s smile grew wider, clearly pleased with what he was hearing, “I’m glad you asked, Mr. Gray. I need you to kill a pilot of course, I’m willing to pay the sum of 500,000 silver to see that it’s done.”

Killian whistled, his eyes widening slightly, “Who is he,” He asked, leaning forward, becoming more intrigued by the minute, “Some Beta company head? A freelancing Gamma?”

Caustos laughed heartily, waving away both statements as he shook his head, “No, nothing as strenuous as that,” Then his laughter stopped, his smile growing hard as he looked into Killian’s eyes, “Just a reliquished Alpha Class.”

Killian had to do a double take, cocking his head to the side as confusion washed over him, “I thought you said the price was 500,000?”

Caustos nodded, slipping back into his easy-going grin, “I did, but the price isn’t for who I want gone. It’s how I want him gone.”

At this, he reached under the table and produced a plain manilla folder, before sliding it over to Killian, speaking as he did so, “The specifics are all there, and we’d be happy to outfit your Shadow before you depart for free space.”

Killian gave the Prince another long stare before slowly trailing his eyes down to the folder. He tentatively reached for it, pulling it towards him as he opened it and leafed through it’s contents. As he did, his eyes grew wider, nearly bulging out of their sockets. He looked up at Caustos, mouth slightly agape in shock, then back down to the page he’d stopped on. Back and forth, he rapidly looked towards the pamphlet and the prince trying to wrap his head around what he was being asked to do.

“You know these are illegal right?” Killian exclaimed after a long moment, “As in, intstant death penalty illegal.”

“More like, instant eradication of an entire ruling family illegal Mr. Gray,” Caustos said nonchalantly, “But yes. I know the weight they carry. Almost as much as the surety they bring to wanting someone dead.”

Killian continued to read for a shot while longer, shaking his head in disbelief before closing the pamphlet shut. He looked up at the Prince, his eyes still in shock, searching for the right words. Caustos beat him to it however, as he spoke up in dry deadly tone.

“You’re more than welcome to decline. It doesn’t matter to me who does the job as long as the job is done. If it’s not you, I’ll just move to the next name on the list. Obviously you will be drugged and escorted off planet, and Amreith will deny any and all involvement in this matter should you decide to speak on it. Hell, depending on my mood, I’m sure I can fabricate a story to sell to the media that this was all your idea. Because at the end of the day, I’m just a law abiding EarthGov noble, and you’re a Free-Space killer. Who’s going to believe you?”

Killian was speechless. For the first time in a long time, someone had actually… unnerved him. Thrown him off his game in such an intense way that he couldn’t fathom the reason as to why. Which is why, even though he’d asked the question earlier, this time, he genuinely wanted to know.

“Just what are you playing at boy?”

Caustos smirked, another chuckle erupting deep from his belly as his golden canines flashed in the light, “The most dangerous game, Mr Gray. Politics.”

It took nearly a month but eventually, Cameron was finally able to get the Headsman under control. Three and a half weeks of near eighteen-hour days, some of which done through lack of sleep and food had drilled into him the rhythm and flow of A.R.M.S. movement. Now, not only could he confidently walk, run, and jump without worrying about a possible accident of balance, but thanks the Headsman, he could perform more advanced evasive maneuvers. Sharp carving banks to get around tight corners, short burst dodging maneuvers, boost enhanced leaps to clear near fifty meters in a single bound, and even the ability to use the Headman's boosters to adjust his trajectory mid-air. Cameron was proud of himself, happy for the first time in weeks, and more than confident in his combat abilities.

That was until the day when Logan’s voice boomed out over the arena as he banged the head of his mace into the ground, “Alright Kid!” He said, instantly drawing Cameron’s attention, “Looks like mech school is over… for now. Time for your final exam.”

“Final exam?” Cameron asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Crusader about fifty meters away.

“Yep,” Logan said, the head unit of Crusader nodding, “And I know just the thing to put you to the test.”

“And what’s that?”

Cameron could hear the smile on Logan’s face as his voice crackled out through the speakers.

“Tag.”

Cameron’s own lips turned upward spreading across his face, “Tag, huh? You ain’t scared of losing for a second time?”

“Two things kid,” Logan said, “First of all, we didn’t reach a conclusion to our first little game. Second, I was going easy on you.”

“Oh easy on me eh?” Cameron said, nodding slowly, “If you say so… boss.”

“Don’t believe me?” Logan asked, cocking his head to the side, the helm of the Crusader mimicking his gesture, “Think you’re hot shit now just cause you have a fancy ass Assault-type now?”

“Pfft, no” Cameron said, chuckling for a moment at his mentors words, “I know I’m hot shit.”

“Alright… let’s see it then. I’ll be it.”

“Oh you will hu- oh shit.” Cameron didn’t have time to finish the statement, as Logan took a boosted leap high into the air, flying through the space until he was directly above the Headsman. Then, with the twin jet cannons on the back of his Crusader roaring at full blast, he plummeted to the ground like a meteor, crashing into the floor, mace first.

Cameron jumped back, the boosters in his feet cushioning his landing and keeping him mere inches off the ground. He dropped low and banked hard to the right, blasting forward and circling around the backside, in Crusader’s blind spot.

“Gotta be quicker than that boss,” Cameron said, in a smarmy smug tone, leaning back and creating a gap of space between himself and Logan.

“Don’t get cocky,” Logan growled, silently cursing his Crusader’s 6.4 speed stat as he turned, dashing forward in an irregular zig-zag pattern, slowly pushing Cameron near the back of the arena. As he chewed up the distance between them, he reached out, lunging in wide arcs with his mace.

“Not cocky, just confident,” Cameron said, easily ducking and weaving through the strikes. He bided his time, counting and memorizing Logan’s attack pattern, waiting for his moment. It was when Logan tried to level his next strike at Camerons head, stepping into a backhanded swing that Cameron made his move. He ducked low, reaching back for the handle of the massive black sword that was magnetically holstered to center of his back. He knew he’d found it when he felt the humming warmth of a physilight proxy form in his hand. With a grin, he gripped it tightly and ripped it loose, aiming a slash of his own towards Crusader’s midsection.

“Gotcha,” He breathed.

“Do you?” Logan shot back, twisting his body sideways to reduce the size of his silhouette as he brought down the heavy tower shield close to his body, reaching his waist just in time as Cameron’s blade bit deep, cutting across the shields length, nearly shearing it off with one blow. An unfortunate turnout, but one that Logan could work with. Before Cameron could free his blade from the thick shield, Logan twisted his arm hard, putting Cameron at an awkward angle, bent low forward and off balance.

Now it was Logan’s turn to smirk, speaking softly, but just loud enough to be broadcasted over the speakers of his Crusader, “Gotcha…”

With the power of Crusader’s reinforced hydraulics, Logan brought a foot up and buried it into the Headsman’s stomach. With a considerable grunt, he kicked hard, and whether it was due to Crusaders hydraulics, or the Headsman’s lightweight chassis, he sent Cameron flying thirty meters and impacting into the wall. Looking down, he smiled, as he kicked Camerons sword outside of his shield, sending it clattering to the floor.

“You really need to hang onto that kid,” He said, walking towards a now collapsed Headsman, happy to see it hadn’t phased out, meaning that Cameron was still conscious, “It’s kind of the first rule of warfare isn’t it?”

“You… fucking… dick…” Cameron wheezed out, getting to his knees.

“Don’t know why your mad at me,” Logan said, approaching the Headsman, “I told you not to get cocky. No one told you that you needed to attack me, but you were the who decided to send it. Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”

He walked up to Camerons side, planting a food onto his ribs and kicking him over, violently rolling him on his back.

“Stop milking it and finish it already,” Cameron said, looking up at the towering Crusader, “Let’s get this shit over with.”

“As you wish kid,” Logan said, giving a shrug. He raised his mace high, knowing it’s massive size blocked out the light of the arena from where Cameron was laying.

“Tag.”

The last thing that Cameron saw, was the massive spikes of Logan’s mace tearing through his cockpit, before everything went black.

---

Cameron shot up in his chair, gasping for breath, roaming his hands over his chest. Sure, he knew that it was just a virtual environment, but it still didn’t stop him from confirming that his body was intact.

“Man!” Aurora exclaimed, giggling with an enthusiasm Cameron had never seen before, “That was cathartic as hell…”

“If you wanna keep talking shit me and you can go in there next,” Cameron said, growling his response. As he did, he winced in pain, running up to his face, “Gah! I think he hit me so hard, it bypassed my consciousness and went straight to my body.”

“Oh, don’t give a girl hope like that Cam,” Aurora said, patting his shoulder as she started to unplug the wires running into his helmet, “You may make me want to be a pilot, just to do this whenever you piss me off.”

“Are you ever going to be nice to me?”

“That depends,” She said, giving a hard yank at a handful of cables, “Are you ever not going to be a cocky jackass?”

“I think he’s been humbled enough for now, Aurora,” Logan’s voice entered the conversation from behind Cameron, “Go a little easy on him will ya?”

“Fine,” She said with a sigh, plucking the helmet off his head and tossing it on a nearby table.

Cameron look up at Logan, who was doing his hardest to keep a smug grin off his face.

“Not. One. Word.” He said, pointing at the older pilot.

Logan held his hands up in surrender, “Lips are sealed kid. Just came over to see if were ready to dust off.”

“Dust off?” Cameron asked, eyebrow raised in curiosity.

“We got a job,” Aurora said, answering his question, “Well, technically you got a job. Which means I have a job when you inevitably beat this limited edition mech to shit, and I have to buff out the dents.”

Cameron blinked, looking between his mentor and his mechanic, “Well… that was quick”

Logan shrugged, “Nature of the beast, bud. Shit’s expensive. Gotta keep the lights on somehow. Now come on,” He said, motioning for Cameron to join him as he turned to make his way outside of the facility, “We got an appointment to keep,”

---

A quick shower and change of clothes later, Cameron was following behind Logan as he was led into one of the many cafes that dotted the landscape of Arsius Station. The bitter smell of Coffee mixed with the sharp sting of tobacco filled his nose as they stepped inside, closing the heavy wooden door behind him, and flooding the small space with the choking combination of darkness and smoke.

“Back here,” Logan said, meeting Cameron’s eyes and nodding in the direction of a doorway, draped in beads and nestled into the back corner of the shop.

Nodding, Cameron followed, squeezing past the swath of wide bodied, muscular mountains that made up the A.R.M.S. pilot population. It was something he was still getting used to, the vast majority of people possessing the same warrior aesthetic as him. Hell, a vast majority of them could probably snap in half if they wanted to. He pushed those trivial thoughts aside however, as he parted the beaded door and stepped into a small room, playing host to a small, circular, wooden table and a fidgety bespectacled man that looked as if he’d rather be anywhere than here.

“Mr. Bennett, I presume?” Logan said, flashing a salesman’s smile as he extended a hand towards the man.

The man nodded, quickly shooting to his feet and reached out to shake Logan’s hand, his tiny, trembling fingers getting completely engulfed by Logan’s massive paws.

“Y-Yes sir,” the man said, speaking barely above a nervous whisper, “Preston Bennett, COO of Celephis Oil.”

“Celephis Oil?” Cameron said, speaking up as he looked over Logan’s shoulder, staring at Bennett, “Never heard of it.”

“W-We’re a small operation. Only a two continent coverage on my home planet of Celephis.”

“Explains why he’s talking to us…” Cameron said under his breath.

“I beg your pardon?” Bennett asked, genuinely unsure of what Cameron had said.

“Don’t mind him,” Logan, motioning a hand towards Cameron, before point to the chair behind Bennett, “Please have a seat.”

“Okay…” Bennett said, tentativelly sitting down. Logan followed his lead, sitting across from him, and leaning his elbows on the table. Cameron looked around to find a chair of his own, but failing to find one, leaned against a wall, watching the exchange between the two men as Logan got down to business.

“So,” Logan said, his voice sounding cheerful and polite, “What can we do for you today Mr. Bennett?”

“Bennett looked around the room, meeting the eyes of Logan and Cameron in turn, even looking past them to the bustling sounds of commerce coming from the cafe proper. After a minute, he cleared his throat and pushed his glasses up higher on his nose, fidgeting slightly before finally deciding to illuminate the situation.”

“Celephis’s continents are different than how you’d classify them. Instead of water separating our landmasses, we have live on massive plateaus while a massive ocean of chlorine gas covers a dried up seabed, thousands of feet below our habitable zone, and covering a vast majority of the planet.”

“Sounds lovely,” Cameron scoffed, with Bennett offering a nervous chuckle in return.

“Indeed,” He said, looking up at Cameron this time, “We call it ‘The Caustic Sea’ and suffice to say it’s the defining feature of Celephis itself. On our plateaus, everything is fine and we can live fairly comfortably, but down below it is a no-mans-land, leaving the only ways of traversal between landmasses as low orbit flight, or pressure sealed rail transport. We at Celephis Oil specialize in the latter. Thanks to our lines, we can reach anywhere on a continent in a matter of hours. It’s really an impressive feat that I’d be quite happy to go into-”

“Why are we here Mr. Bennett?” Logan said, cutting the man off, and refocusing the conversation back to the topic at hand.

Bennett, who had been daring to form a genuine smile as he talked about his company stopped cold in his tracks. The smile dropped and he gulped, nodding in understanding, “We have been having some… cargo issues lately,” He said, looking away and not meeting their gazes, “Our Convoys have been getting ambushed by a group of pirates as the make their way through the Caustic Sea.”

“How do you know they’re pirates?” Logan asked.

“Because of the survivors they leave behind,” Bennett said, “Only one of our fifty man security details are left behind… to send a message.”

“And what’s the message?”

“More…” Bennett said, “The Red Wraiths want more.”

“The Red Wraiths huh?” Logan asked, raising an eyebrow as stifled a chuckle, “Sounds… mencacing.”

“Indeed,” Bennett said, nodding in the affirmative.

“Why us?” Cameron asked, crossing his arms as he studied Bennett. He could see how the question made him uncomfortable, the way he shifted his eyes between himself and Logan, a soft red tint appearing on his pale cheeks as he cleared his throat”

“W-Well you see… Celephis Oil isn’t as… Lucrative as business as of late. If I could afford the funding to go one of the bigger GACs I would have, b-but because silver is tight now-”

“You decided to go to two lowly freelancers not worth a shit eh?” Logan asked, crossing his arms and sounding dangerous.

Bennetts eyes went wide, shaking his eye rapidly from side to side as he held his hands up in surrender, sputtering likea a bad engine.

“N-N-No! I-I-I would never insinuate S-Such a thing!”

Logan’s laughter rang out throughout the room as reached and patted the oil executive on the shoulder.

“Just messing with you Mr. Bennett. Trying to get you to loosen up is all. Didn’t mean to scare ya.”

Cameron watched the man breathe a sigh of relief, a soft smile playing across his face as he chuckled nervously, “W-Well played Mr. Rake… You had me going there for a moment.”

“Well,” Logan said, turning back to look at Cameron over his shoulder, “What you think kid?”

Cameron shrugged, looking at him, “I think wide open spaces is the perfect place to open up let loose.”

“I-I feel like I should tell you,” Bennett spoke up again, fidgeting nervously with his glasses as he spoke, “There’s at least eight units that we’ve identified on our surveillance logs from the trains, potentially more. I know at least half of them are Squire units but even still. I-If it’s just the two of you, you’re going in outnumbered.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry about that,” Logan said, flashing a smile, “That’s just a target rich environment.”

“Huh?!” Cameron shouted to Aurora, increasing the volume of his voice to combat the loud rumbling of the Fenris’s walls as it was jostled by the thunderous turbulence of atmospheric reentry.

Aurora rolled her eyes, sighing in exasperation, and point towards the Headsman, standing tall and inert in its hanger bay section. A series of drones whirled around it, running through a final inspection checklist, as a stair lift was moved into place behind it, parking itself directly underneath the cockpit entrance.

“Get in the fucking mech!” She yelled, “We need to get some final diagnostics and to load your VI before your first insertion.”

“Why didn’t you say that before?” Cameron asked, smirking as he stood and made his way towards the stairlift, feeling Aurora’s glare burning a hole into his back as he walked. He felt a chill run up his spine as he boarded the stairlift, slowly rising at it brought him to the cockpit hatch, and he wasn’t sure if it was just pre mission jitters, or the cool air running through the hangar as it wafted on his bare arms. He’d considered undoing the top of his green jumpsuit that he had tied around his waist, but though better of it, choosing instead to bask in the chilly atmosphere while could, enjoying the alertness and clarity it gave him, before he was threaded inside and the synaptic uplink took over regulating his body temperature.

He stood outside the entrance, watching as hermetic seals were broken, pressurized air hissing as the Headsman’s backplate bisected, sliding open on either side to form an industrial doorway for him to step through, metal pegs shining in the light, barely in view for him to place his legs. Two holes lined with a thick padded cushion mirrored each other on either side of opening, the arm slots for the Headsman looking back at him like twin portals of an abyssal nightmare.

Another chill ran up Cameron’s spine as he peered into the opening, causing him to take a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself. But the truth was… he was scared. This wasn’t a simulation, nor a Squire that anyone could pilot. It was all him. If he mis-stepped, or fumbled an attack, there were no resets, no sudden rousing like he’d awoken from a bad dream. He’d be dead, plain and simple. Was he actually ready for this? Was he ready to be an A.R.M.S. pilot?

“Looks like we’re about to find out,” He mumbled to himself, jumping through the opening and slamming his arms into the sockets and stomping his feet on the pegs, feeling the ankle and wrist clamps lock into place around his ligaments faster than he regret his decision.

“Pilot detected. Beginning initiation protocols,” A robotic feminine voice rang out in the interior of the cockpit causing his ears to ring with a high pitched whirring sound, similar to that off a drill. It was only after a few moments and a sharp, jerking tug in order to set his arm in the right position, did Cameron notice it wasn’t his ears ringing, but the sound of his uplink threads being screwed into his body.

“Mmph,” He grimaced, gritting his teeth, and feeling a torrent of uncomfortable prods take over his body as one by one each uplink thread was set and tightly fastened to the Headsman’s chassis.

“Skeletal threading complete, initiating Synaptic Uplink,” The robotic voice spoke up again, her deadpan tone the audible embodiment of cold, uncaring pain.

“Well,” Cameron said, “That wasn’t so ba- holy fuck!” He bellowed, cut off from his previous thought as a jack was thrust deep into his Synaptic Uplink port, stabbing his brainstem and filling his synapses with a veritable flood of binaric information with a force so dense he lost vision momentarily, only able to hear his pounding heart, and the pressurized slats on the back of the Headsman as they slammed home, sealing him inside.

“Ya alright there, sugar?” A twangy, older voice echoed in his mind, clearly feminine and dripping with honeyed sympathy.

“M-Mom?” He said, his brain feeling foggy and sluggish as the voice giggled softly, the equivalent to an audible hug.

“I’m ‘fraid not darlin. You should probably open your eyes.”

“W-Wha?” Confused, he did as the voice requested, opening his eyes to see that he was now viewing the interior of the Fenris’s hangar bay. That wasn’t the only difference though, as in the center of his vision, a woman stood. She couldn’t have been more than half a foot tall, yet there she was, floating, or rather standing in thin air, flickering slightly and glowing head to toe with a digital orange glow.

“Well good morning sweetie,” She said, somehow knowing that Cameron’s eyes were open as she smiled directly at him.

“Who are you?” Cameron asked, a bit ruder than he intended to, however, the woman simply laughed slapping her knee and looking at him with kind, crinkled eyes.

“Why, my names Thelma sweetheart! I’m your Virtual Intelligence assistant for your HAI-01 Headsman unit.”

Cameron’s eyes widened as he stared at the woman, taking in her features. She appeared older, mid forties to early fifties, with shoulder length hair and kind caring eyes. He knitted cardigan and slacks gave her a slightly motherly look, and her accent, while foreign to him and reminding him slightly of Royce’s was pleasant to the ear and surprisingly comforting to here. All in all… he could think of worse people to be inside of his brain.

“Nice to meet you Thelma,” Cameron said slowly, coming to grips with the situation, “My names Cameron… or… Cam I guess. Hey, can I ask-”

“Are you in yet?” Aurora’s irritated impatience snapped Cameron back to reality as her voice crackled into the speakers of the soup.

Cameron felt his eye twitch, but he responded, even if it was in the form of an aggravated growl, “Yeah. I’m in.. I met Thelma too, or I was in the process of meeting her when you decided to get impatient.”

“Thelma?” Aurora asked, ignoring the jab of his words, “Oh. the V.I. Good. At least I know that’s working.”

“Can I ask, what all do V.I. do?” Cameron said aloud, realizing he didn’t specify who he was speaking too, but Thelma just simply smiled, looking up as Aurora, went into an explantaion.

“They’re the primary control system for the entire mech,” she said, “They regulate everything from fluid intake, oxygen consumption, fuel efficency, everything. They’re also in charge of applying the power steering, and organic life management chassis. Without Thelma, you’re not even getting inside the headsman, let alone pilot it.”

“Oh,” Cameron said,

“I also do real-time battlefield analysis and advisement,” Thelma said, smiling wide, but that young lady got the bulk of it.”

“Done asking stupid questions, Kid?” Logan’s voice entered his ear, as heavy, thundering footsteps caused his vision to shake. He turned, looking through the Headsman’s helmet, as he laid eyes on Logan’s crusader making his way toward him. His shield and mace were gripped tightly in his fist’s and for a second, the trepidation he felt was pushed down by blossom of excitement.

“Is it stupid that I wanna know about my V.I.?”

Crusader’s head shook side to side, “No, but it is stupid you’re only asking now,when we’re getting ready for insertion.”

“I don’t think it was stupid sugar,” Thelma said, leaning in and bring a hand to her mouth as she whispered, “it makes my circuits warm to know someone cares enough to ask”

Suddenly, a loud jarring alarm began to cry out, cutting sharply into Cameron’s brain and grating his nerves, causing him to bring two guantlet hands to the Headsman’s helmet in an attempt to muffle the assault to his eardrums.

“What the hell is that?!” He called, looking towards Crusader as he waited for Logan to respond. He didn’t for a minute, choosing instead to march towards a bare wall, and hit a massive red button on the side. It was when the wall bisected diagonally and opened up, revealing an expanse of rolling clouds, that Logan finally spoke again.

“Drop time, drop time, drop time!” He said, motioning for Cameron to join him, “Hurry up kid, we aint got all day! Those pirates won’t kill themselves. I mean, we can hope but I wouldn’t hold my breath.”

The moment the Headsman aligned itself next to Crusader, Cameron waited for further instruction, allowing Logan to take the lead as he asked, “Now what do we do?”

Cameron could swear he could see the smirk on Logan’s face through Crusader’s visored helm as he responded.

“Now… We make an entrance.”

---

Cameron didn’t know if head jumped, or if he had been pushed, but as he plummeted through the clouds, breaking through, and getting a look at the quickly approaching surface, one thing was for certain; There was no turning back now.

There was enough light breaking through the clouds, that Cameron could make out several distinct features about the planet itself. Various large plateaus dotted the landscape, standing out in the distance, high-walled mesas of rock and vegetation that seemed to scrape against the sky itself. Down below, a rolling ocean of sickly green gas roiled amongst itself, giant plumes of thick smoke wafting and twisting together to form tornadoes of dense toxic mist. And as they grew closer, straight down from where they currently were, Cameron could make out the distinct blue pulses of rail cannons firing out into the smoke, only stopping once they hit either a rock, or the fast moving figures quickly approaching the position of where the shots were coming from.

“Honeypot, this is Grizzly one, how copy over?” Logan said, his voice echoing out over the communication system. His question confused Cameron, uninitiated in radio lingo, before another voice chimed in, his tone harried and stressed as the screaming pitches of rail cannons firing could be heard cutting through the static.

“Grizzly one, this is Honeypot actual,” The voice said, screaming it more into the mic than speaking it, “Uh, shit’s hit the fan on our end Grizzly. Mines have blown four of our axles to pieces and I’ve got contact on six o’clock looking to finish the job we’re doing our best to keep em suppressed, but we can only shoot so much plasma and they’re closing in fast.”

“Roger that Honeypot, we’re en route to put some steel to skull, rendezvous is two thousand meters straight down and we’re screaming towards it as fast as we can. You got a count on hostiles? What hazards are we looking at? Anything helps so we can hit the ground running, literally.”

“I’m counting nine total but I could be- Hammond! Melt that fucking barrel if you have to, but keep those fuckers off our flank!” The man said, cut off mid sentence as he tried to relay orders to whoever on the train was manning the rail cannons, while giving Logan the information he’d requested. There was a muffled exchange of words followed by more shrieks of rail cannon fire, that Cameron could now see more clearly as he looked below him towards the swirling mass of green death. After a few minutes, and with the crackling feedback that sounded like someone was trying to finagle a headset on their head, the man’s voice came back over.

“Sorry about that Grizzly One,” He said, “Pretty certain they saw you drop in so they’re getting aggressive now, you’re in for a fight when you touch down.”

“That’s just how we like it Honeypot,” Logan said, his voice sounding confident and strong, likely trying to instill some confidence in the man below, “You got nine hostiles right?”

“Yeah, nine that I can confirm, mostly Squires, but I did clock the plasma bolts of a couple of archer units as well. I can’t give you a certain figure on that end. But I can warn you about two things, one they definitely have Warden, that much I know. Heavy armor, giant claymore, the works.”

“And the second?”

“Second is, that if they breach your cockpit, you’ll be dead before you blink.”

There was an awkward pause on Logan’s end before he responded, “Is that all?”

A thunderous explosion, the likes of which both mercs could see from free fall told them both that there was definitely more. Now it was the mans turn to take a pause before he came back over the line, sounding sheepish and slightly embarrassed.

“Uh… unfortunately yeah, are targeting system just overheated to the point of explosion…”

“Of course that happened,” Logan said, extracting a nervous short nervous snort from the man.

“We’ll be firing blind while you’re down here so… try not to get hit if you can.”

“Roger that,” Logan said, “We’ll make it work, Grizzly out,”

“Care to explain what the hell the plan is, boss?” Cameron asked after a moment.

“You heard the man,” Logan said, sounding more serious and cold-blooded, “If the pirates want to try bum rushing and outpace the rail cannon fire, then we’re gonna outpace the pirates.”

“How?”

“We’re going to use that rocket you’re strapped in,” Logan said, scoffing as if it was obvious, “I want you to insert in the middle of those squires and put em in the dirt. They can’t compete with your speed or agility, and those archers aren’t going to fire into their own people. Gives you long enough to get your bearings and cause a ruckus before engaging on the real targets. I’ll run interference on the tanker itself and make sure no one slips past and escapes. We can stop it here and be back home for dinner.”

Cameron gulped, anxiety rising up in his throat, still he managed to get out a stiff, “Roger that,” before tilting his body forward, aiming headfirst at the ground, following Logans lead.

“Don’t be scared, sugar,” Thelma said reassuringly into his ear, “My scanners indicate five squires, two archers, and two wardens, none of which comes close to the Headsman’s speed, agility or output. You’re gonna be just fine.”

“I-If you say so, Cameron said,” feeling slightly better.

“Do you think some classical music would make you feel better?”

“Um… maybe?” Cameron said, raising an eyebrow as, right after saying that, a strange melody began to play in his ears, rhythmic, thunderous, and pleasant sounding, with a strange string instrument grinding and whining mixed with a concussive drum beat. Soon, his anxiety faded, replaced by a gentle bobbing of his head, as a soft smile spread across his face.

“I like this… who’s the composer?” He asked, leaning into his enjoyment of the song.

“It’s an ancient anthem from earth actually,” Thelma said, “My records indicate the composer is actually a symphony called… AC/DC.”

Before Cameron could respond, they breached through the top layer of the Caustic sea, where the battlefield was completely revealed to both Cameron and Logan.

There was the tanker train, industrial in design and nearly a half a mile long, possessing blackened steel oil tubes, and at the end of the line, protected by a clear dome of plexiglass, was the crew compartment, filled with people as they ran around, trying to fight back at the five squire units approaching them at full speed in a wedge formation, firing suppressive shots from twin rail cannons from their positions on either side of the compartment, encased inside a smaller plexiglass bubble.

“Five seconds,” Logan shouted into the comm line, as he shifted to the left, leaving Cameron to take the right where the squires were quickly approaching, “Put em in the fucking dirt!”

As the song reached its climax, Cameron couldn’t help but smirk, pushing his boosters to their limit as he rolled to a feet first position, reaching with an arm, and feeling the physilight proxy forming in his hand.

“Gladly.”

Cameron hit the ground with all the force of a divine judgement. He impacted the ground with such a thunderous crash that it displaced the chlorine gas around him, kicking up a layer of dirt and debris and giving him a brief moment that he could gaze into the shocked faces of the five Squire pilots through their windshields. Each of them bore a face that was caked in filth and grime, with bulging yet baggy and exhaustive eyes and wide-open mouths of rotted, blackened teeth. They all looked terrified, unsure of what to do as they looked at Cameron and to each other, mouths moving rapidly into their headsets.

Cameron knew exactly what he was going to do.

Without a word, Cameron ripped the sword from his back with his left hand, using the momentum to keep its arc until it collided with the shoulder joint of the Squire in front of him cutting into him like a hot knife through butter as he bisected the unit diagonally in one clean stroke, splaying blood and oil across the remaining combatants. He let the blade continue its trajectory until it buried itself into the ground. He spun left, using his boost jets to whip him around ninety degrees in an instant, in order to focus his attention on his next target. He pushed off the pommel of his sword with his palm, using it like a springboard to deliver a powerful kick to his opponent's midsection and sending him flying.

“This is about to hurt you… a lot,” He said, fully aware of the grin that stretched across his face, as he dashed forward, freeing his sword as he sped up to one hundred and fifty miles an hour and heaving it forward, its massive weight yanking him into a spiraling twirl before connecting with the second Squires cockpit on the upswing, blowing out the glass of the windshield and barreling through to squash the basic mech into the planet surface, like an insect under a boot.

“Oh, I am fucking amazing at this!” He declared, hefting his sword up to rest on his shoulders, and delivering one last stomp to the second Squire’s chassis.

“Sugar, I’m glad you’re having a good time and gaining some confidence in your abilities, but I just thought I’d let you know that three squires are closing in on your rear flank. Fifteen meters and dwindling fast.”

“Ah shit,” Cameron cursed, spinning around to see that she wasn’t lying as three squires were approaching in a wedge, spread out far enough that he couldn’t hit multiple with a single blow. They’re shields were up, covering most of the windshields, and their swords were drawn, positioned in varying heights and angles in order to dissuade him from wildly attacking.

“Well… this is a problem.”

Cameron tried to think quickly, struggling to come up with a plan. When that failed him, he resorted to what had been working; unchecked aggression and blinding speed. He dashed forward, appearing to meet the unit's head on, and causing them to stop short, readying for a fight.

“Not today, fuckers!” He shouted, leaping into the air, letting his boosters carry him into a hover above the heads of the three squires, before dropping back down, curling and flipping forward as he brought the sword down directly on the leader, cutting through him like paper. Staying crouched, he turned and threw his sword at the one on the left, before turning and bursting into a full speed tackle, spearing the one on the right. He wasn’t concerned about the accuracy of the blade itself, as long as he heard the windshield shatter, the noise of which greeted him, followed by the screaming chokes of a now poisoned pilot, leaving him to focus on the third.

He looked down on the last pilot, terror splayed across his face, mouth agape in a silent scream, hands going up in what seemed to be a plea for mercy.

Cameron, would never know.

He drew back his arm, stretching his clawed fingers out to a point, before jabbing forward, breaking the glass and skewering the pilot, filling the cockpit with a scarlet mist.

Cameron stopped then, looking at the surrounding wreckage. His could feel his heart pumping hard in his ears, as the sound of his breathing filled the cockpit. He stood up straight, turning and walking to pull his sword out of the windshield of the second mech, ignoring the body that hung lifelessly over the side.

“Logan, you there?” He said, trying to catch his breath, “…People are dead now.”

It took Logan a while to respond, and when he did, heavy breathing, and the distant hum of alarms accentuated his words.

“Little busy here kid!” He said, “Seems that one of those Wardens was closer than we thought.”

Cameron shifted quickly, setting off in the direction, “I’m en route, try to keep him off you and we can take him together,”

“N0! Don’t worry about me! You need to focus on-”

Cameron didn’t catch the last of what Logan had said. Thelma had cut the audio feed so she could relay more pressing matters that were directly affecting her pilot.

“Mayday, Mayday,” She said, “Twin plasma lances approaching from your southwest sector two-six-five. Take evasive action, now!”

Cameron didn’t need to be told twice. Thinking fast, he dashed hard to the right, clearing the kill zone just as two beams of plasma energy hit the spot Cameron had been standing in a minute prior, transforming it from a dust covered piece of earth into a molten pit of red hot slag. The impact had been so intense, that even with Cameron avoiding the impact area, the force of the blast still took him off his feet, hurtling him a few dozen feet away. He spent several long seconds tumbling to a stop, feeling the beginning fogginess of a concussion being tamped down by a cocktail of drugs being fed directly into his synaptic uplink.

“Ugh…” He said, eyes swimming with jagged white flashes as he struggled to get to his feet, “What… the… hell…”

“My my…” A feminine voice said, tone dripping with malicious intent, and augmented by the static hum of an audiocaster, “You move quick pilot!”

Cameron’s eyes had to strain to search through the cloudy haze of gas, eventually being aided by Thelma’s scanners highlighting the surrounding environment. It was then he saw where the voice had came from. One voice belonging to one of three units and Cameron could take a guess that it was coming from the figure who wielded a large, bow-like construct, fashioned in the shape of an X, with a large bolt of blue plasma thrumming in the center, raised and aimed straight at him, before he heard the voice again.

“Shame I don’t miss twice…”

---

The sounds of clashing steel and rolling thunder vibrated Crusader’s cockpit, as Logan engaged his quarry. From the moment he’d landed, he’d been set upon by the heavily armored Warden. It was certainly an imposing unit, with a tall and wide bodied chassis, fitted with curved, shaped armor and painted in an emerald and ash palette that seemed to help it meld in and out of the chlorine gas as it circled Logan’s Crusader, waiting for the perfect moment to reach out and strike with its long thin blade.

“Logan, you there?” Cameron’s voice crackled into Logan’s comm piece “…People are dead now.”

Logan wanted to reply, but he the Warden was making it hard for him to multitask, taking the lead of their deadly little waltz by slowly walking Logan back, using a series of quick flourishing slashes to force him to give up ground until he felt the unmoving wall that was the train itself pressing against his back. A swift thrust came almost too late for Logan to react, causing him to drop his shield and bring his palm up to push into his opponents shoulder joint, clamping down hard and causing the attack to stop short as he and the Warden entered a stalemate.

“Little busy here kid!” He managed to get out, gritting his teeth as he did so, “Seems that one of those Wardens was closer than we thought.”

“Who… the hell… are you…” A gruff, gravely voice said, coming from the speaker of the Warden, “This… is… our territory..”

Logan didn’t reply, there was no point. Instead, he ignored the question, as well as the screaming hydraulic sensor on his HUD that was threatening to break from the strain and dropped his center of gravity. In one swift motion he shoulder checked the enemy pilot directly in the cockpit while working his palm down the main sword arm of the Warden, pushing it up hard and forcing the mech off balance, allowing him to slip away from the wall and back onto open ground, just in time for Cameron to radio over again.

“I’m en route, try to keep him off you and we can take him together!”

Logan was quick to respond then. If one Warden was here, then that could only me the other A.R.M.S. were playing commander behind the Squires. He yelled into the mic, hoping the urgency was enough to get through,

“N0! Don’t worry about me! You need to focus on the other A.R.M.S! I’ll be fine!”

In response he was greeted with nothing but static, just in time for his opponent to reorient himself and press the attack once again, twin boosters on it’s back firing on full blast as it leaped towards him in a sweeping lunge, aiming for his midsection. Logan was prepared this time however, bringing his mace up with two hands, one on the handle and one on the tungsten haft, and turning it sideways.

The steel sword met the tungsten haft with an ear piercing clang as somewhere off in the distance an explosion sent shockwaves reverberating even to where Logan was standing, causing his eyes to go wide as he pushed off the attack and tried to hail Cameron.

“Kid? You good over there?!” He called, his voice sounding more concerned by the second, “Kid, Can you hear me?! Cameron?!”

Again, he was met with silent static, causing him to curse as he went on the offensive, sensing a countdown had just started until that static became permanent. He twisted the haft and pushed the sword away and down from him, bringing a foot up high to stomp on the crossguard and deliver a downward blow aimed at the dominant elbow joint. He smirked as he felt the familiar crunch of the mace crunching through metal, but the smirk quickly faded when he pulled back and saw there was barely an inch worth of penetration.

“Fucking heavies,” He cursed, mentally dyling his comm channel over to the train security officer from their free-fall.

“Grizzy One to Honeypot, mayday mayday, I need fire for effect out here. I know you’re targeting softwares scrapped but you can still aim manually right?” He said, sounding a bit more desperate than he expected to.

“Can confirm Grizzly One,” The voice said, after a few moments. “Give us the grid coordinates and fifteen seconds and we can lay some hate downrange where it’s needed.”

“Roger that,” Logan said, switching off the comm channel and turning away from Warden, dashing off into the smoke.

“Vic,” Logan said, looking over his shoulder to confirm that the pirate was indeed giving chase, “Give me a ten digit grid coordinate for three hundred meters in front of me.”

“Certainly Sir,” Victor’s posh accent responded, taking a second to do some advanced calculations before displaying a series of numbers and letters appeared at the bottom of his HUD. Satisfied with the result he switched back over to the comm channel, making sure to speak clearly.

“Honeypot be advised, fire on my mark at the following grid zone; Thirteen tango, break… four six two seven niner, break… eight niner five four three, over.”

“Recieved Grizzly One,” Honeypot responded, “Dialing in now.”

It took a tad longer than Logan would have liked, and he had to slow down, risking a couple of wide slashes from the still chasing Warden, but as he neared the coordinates he’d given, he heard over the channel some of the most beautiful words in the spoken language, “All guns dialed in Grizzly One, on your call.”

Logan grinned wide, speeding up slightly as he hit the coordinates, then passed them, quickly turning around to see the heavily armored Warden, lagging behind, but still harrying him, eager for the kill.

‘To bad he’d never get his wish.’ Logan thought, mentally counting the travel distance of a rail cannon shot. He waited until just before the Warden had crossed into the grid zone, before giving the order with a toothy grin.

“Send it.”

There was a split second of silence, where the Warden crossed into the zone unmolested, and Logan worried he’d given the wrong coordinates. But that worry quickly dissolved when four large blue balls of plasma hit the heavily armored Warden like the fist of god. They didn’t so much pierce the mech, as much as they vaporized any physical matter that they came into contact with, stopping the Warden directly in its tracks, as massive holes punched through it effortlessly, transforming Logan’s relentless pursuer into a smoldering pile of iron in an instant.

Logan could hardly contain his excitement at watching such an awesome display of firepower. His grin could be heard over the radio as he offered his thanks.

“Way to reach out and touch somebody, Honeypot. Ceasefire for now.”

“Roger that Grizzly One. I certainly don’t mind laying back and letting y’all take care of all the heavy lifting.”

“Preciate it Honeypot. Now… If you’ll excuse me… I think someone’s fucking with my cub.”

Cameron continued to gain speed as he rocketed across the landscape, dodging shot after shot fired from the Archers bow. All around him, upturned dirt and displaced gas came together to create a slurry of chlorine covered debris as he zig-zagged in between impact craters and thunderous aftershocks, slowly carving a path towards his attacker as she continued her volley.

“So much for not missing twice!” he said, gritting his teeth as another plasma bolt passed inches in front of his face.

“Shut up and hold still, you little shit!” The feminine voice hissed through the speaker of her Archer unit, “Time to d-”

“Oh stop being so fucking dramatic,” Cameron said, scoffing as he brought his black blade waist level, making one last-minute adjustment of his path to slam the massive black mass of steel and tungsten at her hip, before power through, slicing through her suit so fast she didn’t have time to scream before she fell to the ground in pieces.

“No!” one of the other pilots shouted, the other archer raising his bow as a plasma bolt crackled to life in the center, aimed directly at Cameron’s center mass so close, he could never dodge in time. Luckily, he didn’t need to, as a spiked mace broke through the sickly green haze to smash into the Archer’s helm, knocking it flat to the ground.

“I thought I told you to be careful,” Logan’s voice came out through the speakers instead of the headset, sounding both calm and chastising as he piloted the Crusader into Cameron’s vision. He picked up his mace once again and looked down at the struggling Archer, fighting for his life beneath him.

“I was being careful,” Cameron shot back watching as Logan delivered the killing blow directly to the Archer’s cockpit, crushing the chassis beneath Crusader’s heavy spiked ball, “I knew you weren’t too far behind.”

“You knew? Or you hoped?”

“Why can’t it be both?” Cameron asked, shrugging “Besides… I did MOST of the work already. You just came in at the wrong time is all.”

“Oh yeah?” Logan asked pointing his mace to the south, “Well you forgot one.”

Cameron turned towards the direction Logan was pointing and even squinting couldn’t see what he was talking about.

“Let me help you with that sugar,” Thelma said, sending a radar pulse out that Cameron could see. Thin, white, ethereal lines denoting the radar traversed across the landscape for several dozen yards before cascading up and highlight the figure of a retreating Warden.

“Ah… Dammit,” Cameron cursed, sighing heavily and hefting his sword back up on his shoulder.

“Go fetch, Kid,” Logan said, chuckling derisively.

“Yeah yeah,” Cameron said, turning and flaring his back boosters to max, “I’ll be right back,”

---

It was a surprisingly long walk back to the tanker train across a now battle-scarred Celephis. Still the two of them managed with small talk, which mostly boiled down to Cameron filling the dead air with a series of questions… much to Logan’s annoyance.

“Question…” He said, looking down as his Headsman crushed a Squire’s chassis beneath its feet.

“Oh, by the stars Kid. What?” Logan responded with an aggravated huff.

“What’s got you so cranky?” Cameron shot back.

“Because I know this is about to be a dumb question,” Logan said, stopping and turning the Crusader to face him.

“That’s not true.”

“It is true.”

“No it’s not!”

“What’s the question then?”

“Why don’t we ever salvage any of the mechs we destroy?”

Cameron could see Logan’s frustration parroted on the Crusader itself as it’s hands went up into the air and it turned, beginning to walk again as Logan’s voice answered, “See? Knew it was a stupid question.”

“How is it a stupid question?!”

Logan stopped and looked at him, or rather Crusader looked at Headsman, for a long moment, before he pointed with his mace at the Squire’s wreckage.

“Want to know how much that Squire costs? Fully built and ready to go?”

Cameron blinked, “Uh s-sure? I don’t -”

“One thousand silver,” Logan said, interrupting him, “One thousand silver to start a pilot’s career. That’s all a squire will ever cost. One thousand silver,” He then pointed off in a direction where the remaining A.R.M.S. units had been dealt with.

“Those Wardens? Eight thousand. The Archers? Ten thousand five hundred. Each of these prices are fixed. What they are is what they will always be.”

“Okay?” Cameron said, not really following his comrades train of thought, causing a static laced sigh to come from his speaker.

“We’re getting paid Fifty thousand silver for this job. Why the hell would I spend all that money and time to haul this shit back to the ship, store it, fix it up, which costs more money in parts and labor mind you, and bring it back to Arsius only to make an additional ten k?”

“I mean…” Cameron said, feeling sheepish as he continued to question the reasoning, “Maybe there’s a custom part or something on a higher ranked unit that we could rip and use?”

“Yes, a custom made part for that unit. Not mine. Why the fuck do I want second hand shit? I know we’re strapped kid but we’re not that strapped. If I’m authorized for something, I’m going to have it made for my Crusader, to my specifications. Make sense?”

“Yeah… it does. I guess I never really thought about it like that before.” Cameron said, making his way to Logan’s side as the pair of them turned and making their way to the train once again.

“Yeah, well believe me, you’re not the first to think of it. Truth is, it’s just not a good return on investment. At least for me. Some people DO scavenge units, but they’ve specifically outfitted for it. I’d rather just do jobs.”

“Fair enough,” Cameron said.

“Any other stupid questions?” Logan asked.

“Where do babies come from?”

“… I’ll kill yo-”

A shockwave went off from behind them, sending both Cameron and Logan rocketing off their feet and tumbling into the dirt. They both clambered to their feet and turned to what could only be described as a behemoth of a mech standing before them. It was easily fifteen meters tall even crouched down as it was on it’s strong square legs. With stout, wide built square shoulder pauldrons that went all the way down to the units thick forearms and hands that were the size of the Headsman’s head unit, each posessing a massive cleaver in an iron grip. The mech leaned back, exposing a square, barrel chest, as it looked at them through a square, bandana covered helm. The final thing that was slowly dawning on them both, was the deep, blood red paint scheme the covered it head to toe.

“So…” A wild, high-pitched voice, cackling wickedly came from the behemoths speakers, “These are the flies in my food eh? The insects who would dare stop Riordan Red from taking that which belongs to me? Silly insects… don’t you know thievery is punishable by death? No matter… your blood will make for a fine fresh coat of paint.”

“Great…” Logan said, hefting his shield and mace back up, preparing for battle, “We’re gonna die and the last friendly words I’m gonna hear are, ‘Where do babies come from’.”

“How was I supposed to know?!” Cameron called back, ripping his sword free and toggling his boosters to fire back to life, “This isn’t my fault!”

“Of course it is!” Logan said, “Not shut up, and prepare for this ass whooping. Something tells me the next few minutes are about to be very painful.”

---

Logan and Cameron sprang into action, leaping away in opposite directions as a massive cleaver crashed into the ground where they had been standing in just a moment before.

“Oh-ho-ho,” The crazed high-pitched squeal of Riordan Red called out, “The insects don’t like my blades? They’d rather scurry like roaches than die like dogs? How… disobedient!”

Red dashed forward, moving faster than what Logan would have thought possible for a unit of his size, as he watched him bank hard to the left quickly gaining on him from behind. Logan tried to shake him, zig-zagging and taking as many evasive maneuvers as he could think of, but to no avail. Red simply ate up more distance between them, chopping wildly and cackling like a mad man.

“Fucking hell! Vic, who is this guy?!” Logan said, redlining his thrusters as he waited for the VI to answer his query.

“Hold please sir, checking central database now.”

“Oh sure thing Vic! Take your time!” Logan said sarcastically, banking hard to the right, raising up a shield just in time to block a cleaver strike aimed at his head. The blow felt like it barely scraped the paint on Crusader’s shield, and even still, Logan had to fight to keep his mech upright and continue run.

“Shit!” Logan growled, looking back in surprise as Red’s mech turned on a dime, just to continue chasing him down, “Vic, hurry the fuck up!”

“Query complete, Master Rake,” Vic said, sounding casual and nonplussed as Logan fled for his life, “Results for one Riordan Red; Registration number: 921623, A.R.M.S. unit; Cleaver type, heavy variant, Rank: Gamma - Logos.”

Logan felt his heart sink into his stomach, his eyes going wide as he confirmed that he was redlining his thrusters, before speaking again, “S-Say again Vic… did you say Gamma class?”

“Affirmative, Sir,” The VI replied nonchalantly, “Gamma - Logos to be correct.”

“Fuck!” He cried, flicking the comm channel back on as he hurredly relayed the information to Cameron, “Kid! This psycho’s a Gamma class, fall back, I repeat… Fall back! NOW!”

“I can’t do that Boss,” Cameron responed, sounding calm, cool, and collected to an alarming degree.

“And why the fuck not?! Give me a re-”

Logan stopped and looked at the landscape before him. The once sickly green smoke rolling across a bright red clay had grown dim in his field of view, almost as if something large and imposing was blocking out the light of the sun. He felt his heart squeeze itself in fear as he turned to see the massive frame of Red’s Cleaver unit looming over him, arms held high, cleaver blades hanging over Crusader, an executioner that had found his next victim.

“Die little roach!” Red bellowed, bringing the Cleavers down, cutting through the air as they thristed for Logan’s blood. It was he could do to grit his teeth and close his, inhaling his last breath full of stale recycled air, waiting for the final blow to come.

But it never did.

Instead, the shrill cry of metal meeting metal echoed loudly, piercing Logan’s ears and causing him to jump. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the thralls of death coming for him at last. Instead, all he saw was the edge of a large flat black blade, and the billowing fabric of a dark poncho dancing in the breeze highlighting a gunmetal frame.

“K-Kid?” He said softly, turning to see the Headsman hunched low, feet sinking up to it’s ankles into the malleable cla.y as Cameron strained to keep his sword raised blocking Red’s massive cleavers.

“I ain’t leaving Logan…” Cameron said, growling through gritted teeth, “Not without you… Now are you gonna fucking stand there? Or you gonna help me kill this crazy fuck?”

Logan felt like time had slowed to a near stop. His heart, once rapidly thumping with fear, had calmed itself to a steady rythym as pride began to flood his veins. His body, once aching and tired, felt like it was moving on it’s own as he brought Crusader’s shield up, pushing on the underside of Headsman’s blade to help carry the burden. If the kid was brave or crazy enough to take on a Gamma like Red, then Logan was going to stand with him.

“I’ll take the latter,” Logan said calmly, bringing his mace up, to crash down hard on Cleaver’s hands, spikes crumpling one of them outright and causing Red to back off momentarliy, laughing maniaclly as his right hand fell into the clay along with one of the cleavers.

“Well well well,” He said, fighting to speak through crazed laughter, “Not to scurry like a roach, not to die like a dog, but to stand and fight like a wolf… you continue to interest me…”

“Glad we can impress,” Cameron called, taking a wide stand, holding his sword up overhead in a defensive stance.

“We aim to please,” Logan chimed in, standing tall and banging on his shield rythymically.

“Oh… and please me you have,” Red growled, his tone turning low and dangerous, “So to reward your kindness… allow me to show you my Cleaver’s little talent.”

He held out his left hand, the one that still held tight to a cleaver, growling into the microphone to make sure both of them heard him clearly, “Bloody Haze…. Activate.”

Without another word, the hand began to spin, slowly at first, before rapidly picking up speed unitl the both the cleaver and hand were indistiguishable from one another, transforming instead into a blood-red blur. The unit turned then, it’s helm looking dirctely into the Headsman’s hooded bone plate helmet.

“That unit is intriguing. But I wonder… can it play catch?”

Before Cameron could respond, Riordan Red had already unleashed his cleaver, sending a spinning blade of death rocketing towards him at the speed of sound, chewing up the ground and carving a large scar across the landscape on it’s way to bury itself inside Cameron’s chest.

“I guess we’re about to find out, aren’t we?”

Cameron waited until the very last moment before he activated his boosters, dodging hard to the right, watching as the cleaver whipped past him, disappearing into the sickly green haze.

“Well, that was anti-climatic,” He said, blinking as he looked back between Red and back towards the empty, foggy space.

“I wouldn’t be so sure, Sugar,” Thelma said, her soothing tone barely heard above the warning blare of an alarm, “Unidentified object approaching quickly on your six.”

“Wha- Oh shit,” Cameron said, looking behind him just in time to see the spinning hunk of death rebound back, spinning just as fast as it had when Red had initially let it go. He dove out the way, combat rolling to his feet quickly, before sighing in frustration as he watched the spinning axe arc and curve its flight until it was barreling down on him once again.

“Oh this is some bullshit!” Cameron cried, dodging the axe over and over, before he finally gave up and turned, taking off into a sprint, causing the axe to follow him without so much as a second of reprieve.

Riordan cackled loudly, quickly pulling out two more axes, spinning them rapidly, and tossing them in Cameron’s direction, “Run all you want, little Alpha! These axes are locked to your mechanical signature. They’re not going to stop until they’ve buried themselves into your spine! Lets see how long you can go without making a mistake that spells your death.”

“Logan! Some help here would be fucking nice!”

“Working on it!” Logan called, turning to see Cameron utilizing his jet boosters to leap into the air, spin over two axes the passed over and under him simultaneously, brining his blade up to block the third, causing it to ricochet away for the briefest moment, before spooling back up to begin pursuing him once again.

“Well can you work a little faster?!” Cameron called, sounding slightly short of breath, “This is starting to get annoying!”

Logan couldn’t help but smirk at the absurdity of the situation, shaking his head as he stared down Red and his Cleaver unit, widening his stance and banging on his shield with his mace to get Pirate Captain’s attention.

“Alright big guy,” he said, taking a couple of tentative steps in Riordan’s direction, “You got us alone now, as per your plan I take it. Let’s do this.”

Another shrill torrent of laughter came from the Cleaver’s speakers as its head nodded rapidly, before Riordan spoke, “My my, aren’t you a perceptive little insect. Yes, I think you can entertain me for a moment or two. Let’s dance shall we? I’ll lead…”

With that, Riordan blasted forward, his Cleaver unit eating the distance in a heartbeat until he was right on top of Logan, blade held high and poised to attack. Logan leaped back, narrowly avoiding a rock shattering slash that buried Riordan’s weapon into the ground up to his wrist. Logan prepared his counter attack, stepping forward to deliver a powerful swing in order to sever the Cleaver’s other arm, but what he thought was a disadvantage turned out to be a ruse, as Riordan free his hand with a mighty yell, spraying a large stones into the air and pelting Logan with a shower of rock.

“Gotta be better than that if you wish to entertain me, Crusader,” Riordan said, spitting out Logan’s mech model like a curse before dashing in to deliver a salvo of slashes and swipes. Before he could even orient himself to the Cleaver’s fury, alarms started to ring out inside the Crusader’s cockpit as injuries to it’s body and appendages began to quickly mount.

“Enough!” Logan bellowed, raising his shield, putting his mace behind to brace it, and blasting forward with all the force his thrusters would allow. His shield caught the Cleaver right in the center torso, forcing it back and knocking it off balance, leaving Riordan arm swinging wildly as he tried to stop his fall. Logan pressed his advantage though, dashing forward and cracking Riordan in the helm with a vicious shield smack before following up with a hearty mace swing towards his damaged arm socket, separating the arm at the joint and eliciting a blood-curdling scream from Riordan. Metal and oil gave way to flesh and blood, spraying both liquids wildly before, with a hiss of pressurized air and steam, the opening in the arm socket quickly sealed tight, preventing any such contamination from the deadly gas outside.

“Vic,” Logan said, breathing heavily as he watched Riordan writhe in pain, “What’s our hull status?”

“Structural integrity of leg and torso armor are sitting at approximately forty-five percent integrity,” Vic began, “Arm and hand armor is at approximately sixty percent. Helm armor is at ninety-five. Well done on protecting your most important appendage Sir. I believe it’s safe to say you are still very much in this fight.”

“I appreciate the compliment, Vic,” Logan said, his tone void of sarcasm, “But I know intend to win this fight, not just prolong it.”

“Then if I were you Sir… I’d be a bit more concerned as to the laughter that is coming from the enemies speaker.”

“What?” Logan said, eyes going wide as Vic muffled the surrounding ambience from coming through the audio sensors, focusing intently on the raucous cackling that was indeed from the Cleaver’s speakers. Logan felt his heart beat faster, as he swallowed, his mouth gone dry and scratchy as he watched Riordan Red work himself into a frenzy of maddening glee.

“Ah! That was a good one Crusader,” Riordan said, sounding like he was fighting back tears as he spoke, “That’s what I get for underestimating you.”

His laughter stopped immediately, almost like it was cut off from some unseen force. Logan watched as the Cleaver dropped low, leaning forward and planting its remaining fist on the ground, fingers wrapped tightly around its deadly weapon. When Logan heard Riordan’s voice this time, there was no mirth or humor. Instead, what left his lips could only be described as the growl of a predator closing in for the kill, “So… How about I start taking this seriously?”

---

There were scant few heartbeats that seemed to drag on in agonizing silence as Logan could only watch Riordan coil like a spring before, with a thunderous crack, he shot forward like a blood red cannonball. Crossing the distance between them in the blink of an eye, Riordan lowered his shoulder to charge into Logan’s chest. To his credit, Logan was able to get his shield up into time to protect his cockpit, but that wasn’t enough to keep the crazed pirate from cracking the massive slab of steel in two as if it was a wafer, before slamming into Crusader’s chest, knocking it back several meters.

“Gah! Fuck!” Logan said, gasping for air.

“Are you alright Sir?” Vic asked, “Your heart-rate is spiking.”

“Fuck no Vic!” Logan bellowed, “I’m pretty sure he hit me so hard it momentarily broke the synaptic link, so I felt ALL of that!”

“Oh…” Vic said, sounding for the first time worried, “Oh dear.”

“Ya think?”

Logan tried to scramble to his feet, but Riordan was faster, appearing above him, blade held high, as he went in for the kill.

“Don’t quit on me now, Crusader!” He cried out, slinging his blade down, aiming straight for Logan’s chest. Logan push a hand up, gripping his attackers wrist, and managed to stop the blade from caving in his cockpit. Unfortunately however, Riordan was determined to inflict pain on his opponent, and to Logan’s surprise, chose wisely, bashing the pommel of his cleaver into the ocular lenses of Crusader’s helm, causing Logan to reel back in agony, as his vision doubled and warped, like he was looking through a broken spyglass.

“My eyes!” Logan cried out in pain, trying to blink away the black splodges that clouded his vision as Riordan pinned him to the ground.

“Best to put a wounded beast out if it’s misery, wouldn’t you agree?” Riordan growled sadistically.

“My thoughts exactly,” Cameron’s voice came out of nowhere, giving Logan a stay of execution as Riordan looked up, trying to pinpoint where the voice came from. His answer came in the form of a thunderous crash, as the Headsman’s black blade bashed the Cleaver with the force of a freight train, lifting it off its feet before Cameron flipped around and pancaked Riordan with the full force of an industrial press.

“Why you little-” Riordan growled, pushing off the ground with his good hand to stand back up and staring down Cameron as he dashed and jumped, still fending off the three axes he had tossed his way earlier.

“You’re supposed to be dead!”

“Yeah, funny thing about what’s supposed to happen versus fact, dickhead,” Cameron shot back, twirling laterally over one axe while deflecting the other two with his sword mid spin. He blasted forward the moment he landed and blade met blade as the two clashed.

“Fair enough,” Riordan cackled, “Seems I overestimated you, little alpha. I suppose I can extend to you the same courtesy I gave your friend over there.”

“Over where?” Cameron said, the snark came out clearly over the mic.

“Over… there?” Riordan said, sounding confused as he looked towards the empty space where Logan had been only moments ago. That was when the massive gauntleted hands of the Crusader wrapped around the Cleaver’s torso, pressing its arm tight to its side.

“Looking for someone?” Logan said, laughing for the first time of the fight as Riordan struggled to free himself.

“Gah… Let me go!” He cried, wriggling and howling with fury.

“Oh he will,” Cameron said, “In about ten seconds.”

With that, Cameron broke free of the clash, blasting himself high into the air and back flipping over the three cleavers that were barreling down on him. This time however, they didn’t have time to follow him. He’d waited for just the right moment to clear the way and now Riordan had a front-row seat to three massive spinning cleavers screaming towards him at top speed.

“Oh, fuck m-” Was all he managed to let out before all three buried themselves into his cockpit with overwhelming force. His cleaver dropped from his hand as he his mech and Logan’s crusader were flung back twenty meters from the force of the impact. With a heavy thud and a clearing of gas, Cameron watched as Logan toppled over, trapped underneath the weight of a powered down mech and a dead pilot.

---

There was a moment of quiet as Cameron looked at the aftermath of his intervention, admiring his handiwork. Eventually, Logan filled with silence with conversation as he struggled in his attempts to free himself.

“Took ya long enough, kid.” He said, teeth grit as he tried and failed to move out from under the Cleaver’s immense weight.

“I was waiting for the right moment to make a dramatic entrance,” Cameron said, shrugging as he strode over and began to roll the unmoving mass of Riordan’s mech off of his comrade.

“And what an entrance it was, sweetie!” Thelma chimed in, “Going over the after action report, I’d say you were operating the Headsman at approximately eighty percent peak efficiency. Not bad for your first time at all!”

Couldn’t couldn’t help but smile, “Thanks Thelma, I appreciate the kind words.”

“Oh they’re not just kind words!” She said excitedly, “I’ve upload the kill feed of Riordan Red to the central A.R.M.S. database and well… perhaps I should just show you.”

With that, there was a sharp jabbing pain directly behind Cameron’s eyes, before everything went black. Suddenly, with a bright flash of scrolling blue ones and zeros, a screen appeared in Cameron’s vision, looking like the same screen he’d seen when he had been threaded, but with some noticeable changes.

PARAMETERS SUCCESFULLY MET PILOT PROMTION AUTHORIZED

Name: [REDACTED] AKA: Cam Ket Pilot Registration Number: 1128212 Pilot Rank: Alpha (Primus) Co-Pilot: T437MA (Thelma) Company: N/A Unit Type: Headsman (Assault Variant)

“Well would you look at that.”

“What is it?” Logan asked, his audio coming over through the comm channel instead of the outside speaker, as Cameron’s visual feed slowly transitioned back to show the landscape of Celephis.

“I… I think I leveled up?” Cameron said, uncertainty in his voice, “Thelma brought that screen up from when I’d been threaded and it said a new promotion was authorized.”

“Nice,” Logan said, “So you’re an Alpha Sirius now?”

“Alpha Primus, actually,” Cameron said.

“What?!” Logan said, somehow finding the strength to clamber out from underneath the Cleaver’s weight as Cameron lifted it. He shot to his feet, surprise evident in his voice as he spoke, “You mean to tell me that you completely skipped Sirius rank and jumped to Primus? Now you’re one rank away from hitting Beta class?”

Cameron could only shrug, unsure as to what constituted the reasoning for his jump, “I mean… I did kill five squires, three A.R.M.S. pilots of various Alpha ranks, and I killed the Gamma.”

“Technically speaking,” Logan shot back, “The Gamma killed himself.”

“Eh, we helped him along.”

“Fair enough,” Logan said, before curiosity got the best of him, “Hey Vic, can you tell me if they’re any updates to my profile?”

The VI didn’t even take a moment to think of a response, a twinge of excitement coming through his usual posh and proper tone.

“As a matter of fact, there is Sir!” Vic said, “As of forty-eight seconds ago, you are now classified as a Gamma rank pilot, Logos grade.”

“Oh thank the stars!” Logan exclaimed, pumping a fist into the air in celebration, “I broke through! Finally! After nearly two years, I can call myself a Gamma class!”

“Hey that’s great boss!” Cameron said, thumbing towards the direction of the train, “What do you say we wrap shit up here with these guys then get back to the ship? We can crack open some wine and celebrate with the team.”

“I’m not opposed to that,” Logan said, “But first I need to do something.”

He kneeled down next to the Cleaver, studying it for a moment. Seemingly approving of his decision he reached up and yanked the three hefty blades buried in the units chest free, before dragging one of Crusader’s fingers along the front of the chassis. There was a small indentation on the side of the cockpit, big enough for the one of the mech’s hands to fit through. He pushed it inside and with a mighty grunt, the dented front carapace of the Cleaver came free, being flung to the side along with a bloody and mangled Riordan, his body hitting the ground with a messy wet thwap.

“Woah!” Cameron exclaimed, taking a step forward and preparing to intervene at the unprovoked desecration, “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“You asked me about how we salvage mechs,” Logan said casually, not bothering to look in his direction, “This is how.” He then proceeded to grab the three Cleavers and toss them into the now empty cockpit, before pulling out a small disk shaped device from it’s place on the back of Crusader’s shield and dropping it in with it. Logan finished his macarbe chore by wedging the cockpit door back into place be standing up and turning to look at Cameron.

“I thought you said, you don’t do salvage?” Cameron asked, snark filling evident in his tone, “Something about not being worth it?”

“Yeah well, I lied,” Logan said, “Besides, it’s not the mech I’m doing this for. It’s for whatever targeting system he had to cause those axes to chase you.”

“Why do you wan’t those? I thought you couldn’t use other units weapons?”

Cameron could hear Logan’s smile through the static as he replied, “That targeting system isn’t stock with a Cleaver unit. It’s aftermarket. Probably only saved for Gamma class and up. Which as of right now, I can count myself in that designation.”

Cameron caught on quick to what his mentor was getting at, his own voice dripping with amusement now, “Oh, so you’re about to do something either really cool, or really fucking dumb, aren’t you?”

“Best thing about being Gamma class kid,” Logan said, “We get to accessorize.”

With that, Logan opened up the comm channel to the train personnel, speaking in a more upbeat tone now that the hard part was done.

“Grizzly-One to Honeypot-Actual, how copy, over?”

“Go for Honeypot, Grizzly,” The familiar voice from the train responded back after a few moments.

“All targets KIA, Honeypot. Me and the kid here will pull security till the engineers get here to fix y’all up and then we’ll prep for exfil.”

“Roger that Grizzly-One. I appreciate the assistance as does the rest of Celephis Oil. I hope the bosses up top find a good enough reward for you all, because I don’t think silver will be enough.”

“Let’s not get too noble there Honeypot,” Logan said with a chuckle, “I think silver will work just fine. Grizzly out.”

---

Killian Gray stared at the drone control tablet installed into his flak vest intently, eyebrows furrowed, and deep in thought. Manipulating the device, he zoomed in on the screen, watching his target and another pilot fight Riordan Red. Well… Fight wasn’t exactly the right word. It looked more like Red was putting on a clinic and the two mercs were just barely surviving his onslaught.

“Interesting…” He said softly, guiding the drone as it circled around the battlefield, getting a full panoramic view of the event. He needn’t worry about being picked up on the A.R.M.S. scanners. He’d paid a kings ransom to make sure of it. If anything, to him, this drone was almost as important as his Shadow unit.. almost.

He watched in silence for a few more minutes, just long enough to see his target dancing around Riordan’s Bloody Haze with the confidence and expertise of a pilot ten years his senior. When the kid flipped over the three axes, causing them to bury themselves into the Cleaver’s torso, he wasn’t surprised. Bloody Haze was an ability that was more theatrical than useful. Any Assault variant that was worth a damn would be able to do the same thing Ket did. He scoffed, taking a long drag from a cigarette hanging from his lip before recalling the drone, and closing the tablet. Pushing an earpiece in and clicking it a few times, he heard the raspy breath of his Second-In-Command Dyatlov on the other end, indicating he was listening.

“Recall,” Gray said, “Reconvene back at the shroud. I wanna know when their ship departs the system. Keep a three-hour distance. I’ll be there soon and we can play further.”

“Sir…” Dyatlov said after a moment, “They’re obviously injured. Wouldn’t it be best to do it now?”

“Are you saying you no better than me?” Gray responder, causing a series of nervous sputters and coughs from the other of the line.

“N-No Sir. Not at all. It’s just that-”

“I’m not engaging in an environment that poses a threat to visibility and movement. You know this. Besides, now we know how they operate. We can plan around when we know the target is isolated. Now do as your told and get back to base.”

Dyatlov didn’t respond with words. But a series of clicks on the other end confirmed for Gray that he understood. Now, he just need to give one more order. He fiddled with the earpiece until he got the channel for another of his men, Akonge. There was no raspy breathing, but Killian knew he was listening.

“Put a bullet in Dyatlov and dump him out the airlock. He forgot his place.”

A series of clicks told him it would be done before he got back.

---

By the time they made it back to the Fenris, Logan was beyond exhausted. From the hours it took to wait for a relief crew to arrive, as well as waiting for the gravity lifts on the ship to slowly transport them up the miles and miles of atmosphere until they were safely aboard, he could barely keep his eyes open. Luckily, when Aurora greeted him with a sealed letter marked TOP SECRET, it woke him up fairly quick.

“Where did you get this?” He asked, taking the letter from her and turning it over in his hands as Aurora explained everything that had happened in his and Cameron’s absence.

“About two hours ago,” She said, eyes focused intently on the letter, sounding slightly concerned, “Some small, speedy ship bearing EarthGov markings pulled up and requested an audience. I told them you weren’t available, so they just sent this over through a bridge tube and sped off.”

“Interesting…” Logan said, running his thumb over a raised crest at the bottom right of the envelope. He looked up, seeing Aurora’s nervous stare at the parcel, causing him to put the letter in his back pocket, taking it out of her view and causing her to look up at him.

“I-I’m sorry boss I wasn’t trying to-”

“Go get Cam out the Headsman, and radio for Marcus to meet me in my quarters.”

“Oh… Y-Yeah sure…” She said, her eyes downcast in a strange sense of disappointment. She chewed her lip for a moment, contemplating what to say, if anything. After a moment, she spoke, sincerity in her voice as she voiced her concern, “Everything okay? We’re not in trouble or anything are we?”

“Hm?” He said, looking up and showing that he was clearly lost in thought, “Oh… yeah. Yeah we’re fine. We should be anyways.”

“Should be? What’s going Logan?”

“Aurora,” Logan said, his tone growing hard and cold, “Just do your fucking job and stop asking me questions. This doesn’t concern you.”

The light left her eyes then, along with the warmth. She bit her lip, likely to stop herself from saying something she’d come to regret. Instead she just nodded, widening her eyes cartoonishly to avoid rolling them, as she responded in tense, professional tone, “Sure thing… boss.”

Logan didn’t bother to respond, he was already walking away, envelope in hand, and anxiety mounting.

---

Cameron’s body felt stiff and sluggish as he hopped down from the cockpit, feeling the cool air waft across his skin as he stretched, watching the exchange between Logan and Aurora from across the hangar. He watched Logan stalk off from his landing pad, towards the automatic doors leading towards the crew quarters. His gaze then turned to Aurora, looking downtrodden and deep in thought, before with a heavy sigh she turned and made her way to where Cameron was standing.

“What was that all about?” He asked, point with his chin towards the door leading away from the hanger.

Aurora shrugged, sighing again, “I don’t fucking know. Some EarthGov letter came for him while y’all were planet-side and he got all weird and bitchy.”

“EarthGov?” He asked, “What the hell does EarthGov want with a Gamma Class?”

“You’re guess is as good as mine Cam,” she said, looking back towards the doorway before blinking and craning her neck back to look at him, doing a double take, “Wait… did you say Gamma Class?”

“Hm? Oh, Yeah. He hit Gamma class, and I hit Alpha Primus.”

“You hit Alpha Primus?!” She exclaimed, causing Cameron to look at her with slight befuddlement.

“Yeah? I mean we fought a Gamma down there after all, so it wasn’t-”

“You fought a Gamma?!”

“You gonna let me tell the story or not?!”

She scrunched her nose cutely, a soft blush forming on her cheeks from embarrassment, as she held her hands up in surrender, “My bad… Please continue,”

Cameron eyed her warily for a long time, eyebrow raised in uncertainty. After a moment however, he shrugged and went back to recanting his and Logan’s adventure planet-side.

“Anyways,” he began, “Yeah, so after me and Logan got rid of like five Squires and four other A.R.M.S. units, we-”

“There were how many A.R.M.S. units?” She asked, a smirk beginning to form at the corner of her mouth, as she feigned astonishment.

“I’m gonna push you out of that fucking airlock.”

---

Logan paced back and forth, arms clasped tightly behind his back as he waited for Marcus to arrive, his eyes focused intently at the unassuming envelope that lay atop his desk, cut open and it’s contents splayed out for all to see. So intently was his focus, that he barely registered the sound of the door opening, as well as Marcus’s polite clearing of the throat in order to draw his attention.

“Marcus,” Logan said, not bother to look around, “How much money would it take for you to take a job you had no sense in taking?”

“I sorry?” The old man said, surprise in his voice.

“It’s not like it’s something I haven’t done before,” Logan said, still keeping his back to Marcus, “Well… some of it I’ve done before. But the rest of it… it’s not sitting right with me.

“Why even consider it then?” Marcus asked, “You’ve been in this field long enough to know when to trust your gut.”

“Because they’re not asking so much as ordering,” Logan said, finally turning to face Marcus now. He reached down to grab the contents of the envelope before handing them over to the man, pointing at them with an accusatory finger, “Read that.”

Marcus grabbed the documents and analyzed them. Over and over again he read, becoming increasingly more visibly stressed as he did so. Finally, with a frustrated cry he threw his hands up in defeat and bellowed out, “What the hell are they playing at?!”

“Well shit,” Logan said, giving a small chuckle, “If they have you getting all up in arms, then I know the situations fucked.”

“This isn’t funny, Logan,” Marcus said, gazing up at him like a father chastising a child.

“I know it’s not Marcus, but what the hell are we gonna do? I mean for one, it’s not like we exactly have a choice in the matter. Free-Space or not if EarthGov is hand delivering something, then it’s not exactly a fucking request. And for two-”

“The money,” Marcus finished.

“Yeah the money,” Logan acknowledged nodding his head.

“Well…” Marcus said, looking up to meet Logan’s eyes, “I trust you Logan. What are you planning to do?”

Logan looked at Marcus for a long time, chewing the inside of his cheek as he contemplated. After a while, he turned and walked over to a nearby intercom system set into the wall. When his mind was made up, he pushed the button to relay his orders to the VI navigation system.

“Vic, set a course back for Arsius. And ping Alistair Kincaid on his captain’s code. Number 152-A31. Tell him that I’m coming to talk about the contract and I expect to be welcomed with open arms and expensive whiskey.”

“So…” Cameron said, walking in step with Logan as they traversed their way through the bowels of Arsius station, “Wanna tell me what we’re doing here, or are you gonna continue being a secretive jackass?”

“The latter,” Logan said flatly, looking around as they made their way to a dimly lit intersection, surrounded on all sides by run down storefronts and the corpses of dilapidated factories. He turned left, Cameron following directly behind as the road narrowed into nothing more than a dark alley set between two concrete walls slick with water, oil, and other unknown liquids Logan would rather not think about.

“Oh come on dude,” Cameron complained. You’ve been weird for the past week. Ever since we got back from Celephis, you’re either locked up in your room and when you are feeling sociable, you’re being a snippy little asshole. Just what the hell is going on?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Logan muttered. They passed by a series of offshoots and Logan took one, setting them on a short walk to a large iron door, the lighting shining underneath and through the keyhole promising an area of interest to the two.

Cameron wasn’t ready to enter a new space however, fed up with Logan’s deflection and avoidance of his questioning. He grabbed Logan by the shoulder and roughly spun him around, looking at him with frustrated contempt.

“Logan, what the fuck is you problem?” He growled, digging his fingers tighter into the collar of his shirt, “Why are you being such a moody little asshole?!”

Logan grabbed Cameron’s wrist and twisted hard, causing him to let out a pained yelp as he felt the bones grind and pop, before Logan yanked his arm behind his back, pushing him hard against the wall, dragging his face across the brick as he spoke in a dangerous, gritted whisper, “Don’t you ever put your fucking hands on me again, you got that?”

Cameron wasn’t defenseless however, being no stranger to a hand-to-hand fight, he whipped his head back hard, hitting Logan directly in the face, heating the cracking of cartilage as he bloodied the man’s nose. Logan grunted in pain, while Cameron delivered a swift elbow to his ribs, causing Logan’s grip to loosen, allowing Cameron to shove him off and create space.

“Agh!” Logan said, holding the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stop the bleeding, “By the stars kid, you got a hard head.”

“Shut up!” Cameron snapped, leveling a punch towards Logan’s stomach. The blow connected with a dull thud and Logan let out a wheezing gasp as the air was forced out of him. He didn’t have long to relish the fact his attack had land however as Logan delivered a right hook directly to his jaw, causing him to stumble back against the wall, as his vision began to swirl and he fought to keep conciousness.

“Kid,” Logan said coldly, taking a defensive stance, “If you felt like scheduling an ass-whooping, all you needed to do was ask.”

“Keep talking shit,” Cameron shot back, putting his hands up, “But I’ve had a lot of on-the-job training recently.”

“Well then… Let’s see if you can apply it.”

“HEY!!” A voice bellowed, a scratchy low toned growl that sounded like they’d been smoking since child birth. Cameron and Logan both turned down the alley to view the door at the end had been opened and two people, had stepped out into the dim light. One was a stranger, the other a familiar face, both were a surprise.

“Alistair?” Logan called.

“Sybil?!” Cameron exclaimed

“Heh, guilty as charged,” She said, smirking as she waved with her fingers, “You’re some hard men to find,”

“Indeed they are,” The man known as Alistair said with a huff.

“What are you doing here?” Cameron asked, no longer concerned with Logan and focusing instead on the reunion of someone else from his past.

She shrugged nonchalantly, “An EarthGov official needs to be notified and briefed about any operation happening in government controlled space. When Alistair here put in the request for a representative, I figured it was a good a time as any to drop in and see how you boys had been. So I accepted on the grounds that I picked the pilots, and turns of he already knew Logan… it’s a small galaxy after all.”

“Indeed,” Alistair confirmed with a nod, “So if you two would be so kind as to stop acting like children for five seconds and come inside, I’d sure love to get this briefing underway and get the hell out of this shithole.”

Logan turned to Cameron and thumbed a finger in Alistair's direction, “This is why I’ve been pissy and secretive.” He said aloud.

Cameron blinked once, then twice, looking back between Logan and Alistair, unsure of what the correlation was between the man’s presence and Logan’s mood.

“I don’t get it,” He said after a moment, shaking his head.

“Oh don’t worry Kid,” Logan said with a sigh, walking past him and into the doorway, “You’re about to.”

Cameron followed behind, still perplexed about the situation as the two of them filed past Alistair and Sybil, coming into a room that was the complete opposite of the world outside. Where the alley was dimly lit, and covered in the grime and decay of years gone by, the interior was warm, well lit and opulently finished with a soft cushioned booth that wrapped around a dark mahogany table. Colorful tapestries hung loosely from the ceiling, treating the eye to bevy of hues not often seen amongst the industrial metal that made up Arisus as a whole. A thick layer of smoke lingered in the air, thick and permeated with a fragrance of fruit and mint. To Cameron, it was as if he’d shifted back into the opulent lifestyle of a Ketrisite noble, if only for the briefest moment.

The pair of them sat down, with Logan sliding all the way towards the back of booth, keeping his back to the wall. Cameron sat a few feet away, will Sybil sliding in dangerously close to him, offering a wink, as they all turned to see Alistair Kincaid standing before them, and giving Cameron a more detailed look at the man.

He was an older man, mid fifties if Cameron had to guess, old but not haggard, and dressed for success with a purple silk button down struggling to contain the early beginnings of a slight paunch, black tie, and pair of black slacks. His straw blonde hair, streaked with white, was slicked back so far it seemed to nearly blend in with his scalp and gave him a promient widow’s peak. His eyes were fitting for a man in his postion, whatever that may be, and were a cold neutral gray. The only suprising thing that Cameron could catch was the glint of a thread port on his wrists as he clapped his hands together, eager to get this meeting kicked off.

“So,” He said, gray eyes scanning over everyone in the room, “What do you know about AI?”

“A.I.?” Cameron asked, looking between Logan and Sybil before glancing back at Alistair with a questioning glare, “Is that like V.I. for our A.R.M.S. units?”

Alistair rolled his head in a way to say ‘yes and no’, “Kinda.”

Logan scoffed and crossed his arm, leaning back against the wall, looking only at Alistair as he spoke, “The only way they are remotely the same is that they both go into the same slot on a unit and are meant to assist a pilot on the battlefield. From there, it’s like comparing the energy output between a hand-crank and a nuclear reactor. They're not even playing the same sport, let alone in the same league.

“That’s a fair enough allegory,” Sybil said, continuing Logan’s train of thought, “But I think we can expound on that a little more for Cameron. He’s still a baby pilot after all.”

“Fair enough,” Logan said, shuffling in the booth to get a better look at Cameron. There was a slight pause followed by a smirking chuckle as his eyes focused on the dark bruise forming around his jaw, but eventually he was able to find his train of thought to illuminate his young protégé on the specifics.

“So,” he began, “Without getting into all the mechanical and scientific jargon that confuses even me, yes both V.I. and A.I. serve a similar base purpose. That purpose is twofold, first, it functions as the Primary Control Mechanism or PCM for an A.R.M.S. unit. It manages everything from heat, fluid intake, vision, pneumatics, and life support systems that gives people like us the ability to ride around at mach speed and swing giant weapons the size of a house at each other. Second, they perform performance analysis and battlefield diagnostics in real-time, allowing us to essentially have a three hundred and sixty degree view of our environments at any time. Yes, there are some units that can circumvent this, and get the jump on you, but those are few and far between. For the most part though, both systems are the same when it comes to these things.”

“Okay?” Cameron said slowly, “Then what-”

Logan cut him off, holding up a hand to silence him as he continued, “However, that is where the similarities end. Because that is all the functions that a V.I. can perform. It’s a virtual intelligence, not an artificial one. Meaning, it’s basically just a template of procedures and processes with a personality matrix overlay on it. If me and you where in the same situation and someone was getting ready to jump us from behind, our V.I.’s would notify us such at the same time, just in different voices.”

“And A.I. wouldn’t?” Cameron asked.

Logan shook his head, “No, it would, but it would do so much more than that. A.I. isn’t just a series of processes. It’s… conscious. It possesses a code so dense, so refined, and advanced, built to watch and analyze who you are as fighter to such a fine point that in that same scenario an A.I. would not only alert you, but tell you the best way to react that feels the most natural to you. They’re voices and mannerisms aren’t just a personality matrix. It learns how you learn, it speaks to you in a realistic and emotional way. They’re so advanced and unique that while a V.I. can be swapped in and out from unit to unit and pilot to pilot, an A.I. can only be used once. That’s it. Don’t ask me why, cause that’s all I really know. It’s an autonomous, self-thinking… thing. I can’t even explain it cause I’m only regurgitating what I’ve heard.”

Cameron raised an eyebrow, looking between the three of them, “Why are you talking about them like they’re some sort of relic, are they that rare or something?”

A chorus of laughter filled the room in response to his question, and Cameron felt a hand rest on his thigh as Sybil spoke up, her honeyed voice and emerald eyes drawing his attention as much as the information she expounded.

“Rare is an understatement honey. I’d say for every 10,000 V.I. intergrated mechs, there’s one A.I. unit.”

“Think of this way,” Alistair chimed in, “You could have a tech mech a V.I. for you right here in this room. It’d take a week or so, but they could do it from scratch. An A.I. requires a labratory the size of Arsius station to make one every five years. They’re worth their weight not in silver, but in planets. The only pilots I know personally that have A.I. integrated units are all Omega class.”

Cameron’s jaw dropped at this, his eyes widening in surprise, as the weight of an A.I.s value was finally starting to dawn on him. He shook his head, clearing it of his surprise, before pointing a finger at Alistair, asking the question that had been on his mind since their lively introduction, “Alright, pardon my language, but just who the fuck are you?”

Alistair smirked and chuckled dryly, giving a mocking bow as he replied, “Alistair Kincaid, information broker at your service. I sell anything from secret black-site GAC operations, to the newest in terms of corporate espionage to the highest bidder, whether that be to a Free-Space mercenary, or in this case,” He paused for dramatic effect, waving a hand towards Sybil, “An EarthGov diplomat.”

All eyes turned towards Sybil, and for the first time the Cameron could recall since meeting her, the woman’s cheeks turned a pale shade of pink from embarrassment.

“Well would you look at that,” Logan said, putting his arms behind his head as he casually leaned back against the cushion of the booth, “The government consorting with shady fucks to do even shadier shit. A tale as old as time.”

Sybil cut a sharp glare towards Logan’s direction, before clearing her throat, attempting to take control of the conversation.

“As discussed earlier,” She said, shooting another look at Logan, who wasn’t even bothering to hide his smirk, “A.I.s are extremely rare as well as expensive. So rare and expensive in fact, that EarthGov controls nearly all A.I. manufacturing in the entire galaxy. I say nearly, because it seems that a few unscrupulous individuals have decided to circumvent our control of the intelligence trade by starting their own creation lab, in EarthGov space no less.”

Now it was Logan’s turn to look surprised, both of his eyes raising as he sat up, “Well that’s interesting… and idiotic. I’ve heard of dead men walking, but never did I think they’d hold up a sign that read ‘turn me into pink mist please’ in giant neon letters.”

Sybil laughed, giving a nodding shrug, “Well, I can abide by a lot, but someone making my job harder is something I won’t let stand… Isn’t that right, Alistair?” She asked, keeping her eyes set on Logan, while Cameron watched the broker start to visibly sweat, giving a nervous chuckle.

“Y-Yes Ma’am,” He said, “Perhaps I should give a proper mission briefing then, now that we’re all acquainted and informed about the subject.”

“Yes,” She said with a tone that was equally upbeat and cold, “Perhaps you should.”

---

“Approximately nine years ago,” Alistair began, sighing slightly as he paced back and forth, “A group of various programmers, engineers, computer scientists, and financiers came together with one goal in mind; To create the next generation of battlefield A.I. This consortium of great thinkers and powerful backers became known as The Manna Group. For nearly a decade they worked on divining the perfect algorithm and matrixes to make an A.I. that was not only autonomous and self-learning, but self-evolving as well. This went farther than just adding a few million lines of code to make it smarter. It was the aim… our aim to make such a consciousness that can analyze the pilot on an unconscious level and upgrade itself to sync with them perfectly. Two minds to one machine, with a connection that went as deep within the mental physical and emotional state as one machine can be to an organic.”

“Hold up,” Cameron said, looking at Alistair warily, “What do you mean by ‘our aim’?”

Alistair coughed, pulling at his shirt collar, “There’s not really a sense in hiding it from you all I suppose, seeing as Ms. Moore is aware and that’s the only one who matters in the eyes of the criminal court. Yes, I was among the financiers of The Manna Group. For years I backed them and helped fund research and development for the system, until I was bought out my contemporaries and left with nothing but pennies and information. Information which I then used for leverage with EarthGov to garner immunity as well as a special mission request with central command.”

Logan laughed dersively, “So the other kids said you couldn’t play with them anymore and you decided to go tattle on them. You’re a punk Alistair, always have been, always will be.”

Alistair sucked in through his teeth, responding back to Logan with a slight edge in his voice, “This punk is about to make you fucks a lot of money Rake… Show some respect.”

“I will… when you earn it.”

“Alright boys, put the measuring tape away,” Sybil said, amusement clear in her tone as she broke the tension with her easy-going persona, “Alistair, be a dear and show them what you showed me.”

Alistair sighed and reached into his pocket, searching around before producing a small device which he placed on the table. It was disk shaped and made of a dark reflective metal, with a white electronic dot set in the center.

“This should make things a bit clearer,” Alistair said, walking up and tapping the center, before stepping back allowing the device to spin up and turn on, producing a picture of a canister, close to Cameron’s forearm in size and glowing a deep sapphire blue.

“May I introduce A.E.I.A, the Autonomous Evolutionary Integration Assistant, or Aeia for short. This is the culmination of a near decade of work, and enough money to fill a planet. This is what you’re here for. This is what we want.”

“In approximately thirty-six hours…,” Sybil said, standing up and switching places with Alistair who plopped down in the booth, “A team of special forces operators will be raiding Manna Group’s main lab on an asteroid cluster out in the Kruegan Reach. Thanks to Alistair’s intelligence, we’re confident the rogue A.I. is located there. What we don’t know however is the current defensive posture, which is where you come in, Gentlemen. Your job would be two fold. First of which would be supporting the boots on the ground, acting as the heavy hitters should Squires, or other A.R.M.S. units be stationed there. Second, we would need one of you to join in on the raid in order to grab the module to bring back her, or failing that, destroy it.”

“Destroy it?” Cameron said, “If this is supposed to be the most advanced A.I. around, wouldn’t you want it’s safe return a priority?”

Sybil chuckled and shrugged, “We don’t know the full extent of the A.I.. It could very well be all smoke and mirrors. A bunch of bullshit to tell shareholders in order to keep the money flowing. Or it very well could be the next evolution in Piloting since the neural uplink. Earth Gov isn’t all too concerned on the specifics if I’m being honest, as long as it doesn’t end up in the hands of someone we can’t… work with.”

“So,” Cameron began, looking between a skeptical looking Logan and an expectant looking Sybil, “Let me get this straight. You want us,” he said, motioning to himself and Logan, “You want me and dickhead over here, to jump face first into some secret squirrel black ops style mission for the government who fucking EXILED me, because a bunch of assholes we don’t know decided to write a bunch of code a decade ago and y’all don’t like it?”

“Dickhead?” Logan said.

“Yes,” Sybil replied smoothly batting her eyelashes.

“Why?” Cameron asked, crossing his arms and leaning back, eyeing his mysterious paramour warily.

“Because I’m asking nicely,” She said, putting a little extra honey in her voice.

“And because we’ll pay you enough silver to buy your own frieghter fleet,” Alistair chimed in.

“But mostly, because I’m asking nicely, Cam,” Sybil said, giving him a grin and a wink that made his stomach knot.

“Welp,” He said, after a few moments of intense thought before turning to Logan, “I’m sold, what about you?”

There was a hum of excitement and anxiety with the prelude to the raid. As the Fenris rocketed towards the Kreugan Reach through slip space, Cameron felt a strange sense of foreboding. Perhaps it could have been the severity of the job itself, or their employer, but Cameron felt it had something to do with the fact that Sybil had invited herself aboard Logan’s ship for the duration of the journey. There was something about her presence that made him anxious, and it seemed like she knew it too, giving voice to Cameron’s unasked question as they walked the halls of the Fenris in silence.

“Miranda is doing well,” She said suddenly, catching him off guard, “Liam and Dean are as well. They were getting ready to go through some sort of foreign service training when I left.”

“What about Ian?” Cameron asked, not bothering to look over just yet. There was a feeling apprehension that kept his feelings guarded for the moment now that the initial excitement of reunion was over. It was almost as he gave in to engage more in this conversation about his past, that it would revert him back towards the person he was when he’d initially left Ketris, instead the person he’d become under Logan’s hand.

“He’s well. Taking to the Seneschal postion like a fish to water. Offering sound advisement to the queen and keeping his precense known throughout the planet. The only thing he seems to be lacking in is piloting skills. Wonder if anyone could have helped him with that…”

Cameron felt a nudge in his side at this, and it was enough to cause him to look over at her, seeing a cheeky grin and wiggling eyebrows. He simply looked at her, stone faced for a few seconds, just to show he didn’t find her joke funny, before snapping back to face forward, and continuing to walk as he responded.

“Beats me,” He said with a huff, “Better get someone to show him quick before he fucks up and becomes a grease stain,”

“Oh… Wow,” She said, blinking and doing a double take, trying to discern if she’d actually heard what she thought she heard, “I mean, I know he’s kind of a stiff shirt, but he’s still your brother, Cameron.”

That was when something in his brain clicked, and he finally understood why he was feeling the way he was. He stopped in his tracks, rigid and giving off an air of discomfort and disapproval.

“No…” He said softly, “I’m not. You saw to that.”

“What are you…” She said, confusion in her tone, as she tried to understand. She blinked once, then twice, before understanding made its way across her face. Her eyes turned downcast, and she looked away chewing at her inner cheek.

“You know I had no say in that,” She said quietly, “Besides, it was to save your life.”

“But at what cost Sybil?” Cameron said, his voice increasing slightly in volume as a well of sadness and loss washed over him, “Over the past six months, I’ve had to dodge giant homing axes thrown by a gamma class psychopath, fight a genetically modified gorilla, killed at least five people, and just barely survived a surgery that kills four out of ten people, done with no anesthetic and required to be conscious. All of this has been done while assuming an identity and a citizenship I hold no formal claim or ties to. So please, honestly tell me, is this better than a potential death penalty, cause it’s starting to look like that’s not really a certainty anymore.”

He looked at her for a long time, watching as she averted his glare as she mumbled something under her breath.

“What was that?” He asked, a little too aggressively than he would have liked, but not bothering to correct himself.

“I said, stop being such a fucking child,” She said, finally looking up, her tone thin and eyes razor sharp. His eyes widened slightly as he attempted to stammer out a response, but she didn’t give him a chance, pointing a finger in his direction as she took a step towards him.

“You went from being some no-named prince on a backwater planet, to being an A.R.M.S. pilot in Free-Space. Do you know just how rare you are? I can swing a dead cat in any sector that EarthGov controls and hit thousands of sniveling and scheming nobles. And for ever thousand of said nobles there’s one of you.”

“One of me?” He asked, putting emphasis on the last word, speaking slowly as if he were giving her a chance to recant something she’d said.

“Yes,” She reiterated pointedly, “How many people can say they’re a threaded pilot?”

“I’m more than just a fucking pilot!” He said, slamming his fist into the wall so hard to metal dented and cracked. She jumped with a gasp, her eyes growing large with concern and a hint of fear. Cameron felt his heart hammering in his chest, his blood pulsing through his temples and his brain became foggy. Deep down, he knew that his anger was misplaced. She wasn’t supposed to be the target of his fury, nor had Logan truly been the target all those months ago. But there was a disconnect between his unbridled fury, and the critical thinking needed to make a connection for what he was truly feeling. But in the end, he gave up on searching for the right words, using this moment to just let his heart speak the words he couldn’t find.

“I was more than just a prince too. Or a seneschal, or a mercenary, or whatever else any of you fuckers want to lump me in as. For as long as I can remember, it has always… ALWAYS been about what I am and not who I am and frankly I’m fucking tired of it.”

“C-Cameron, I didn’t mean-”

“Stop saying that fucking name,” Cameron growled through clenched teeth, his eyes bulging and bloodshot, “You don’t have the right to give back the identity you stripped away as casually as you'd blink.”

“I-I didn’t-”

“Yeah you did,” He said, eyeing her with judgement filled eyes. He scoffed, shaking his head with a grin that lacked any warmth, “But you know what? It’s fine. I get it. Logan needed an extra body to make sure the money kept rolling in and you needed an excuse to flex your power. I’m prideful enough to say I was a halfway decent Squire pilot. Decent enough for him to take a chance on strapping my ass into an A.R.M.S. unit and hoping for the best. And look at what happened. Turns out I’m fucking good at this shit. So I guess I should thank you, Sybil. Thank you for stripping me of my identity and throwing me to the wolves. Thank you for not doing any type of investigation into what happened and going along with the selfish ideas of a mercenary. Thank you for killing Cameron Pellyn.”

With that he turned away, storming off down the hall, hands in his pockets, wishing he could slam the automatic pressurized doors that opened for him as he made his way to the hanger, leaving Sybil standing alone in a heavy, pained silence.

She stayed silent as she watched him leave, barely making a sound as a tear streaked it’s way down her cheek, mouthing her response in a shaky whisper.

“…I’m sorry.”

Cameron stomped into the mech bay with an air of frustration and a look that practically begged the other crew members to keep their distance. The tangy scent of transmission fluid hung heavy in the air, mixing with the metallic, acrid stench of welding fumes, pulling his focus toward the direction of Logan’s Crusader. Looking over, he watched as Aurora, hung suspended from a series of harnesses, as she welded and repaired the various damages Logan had sustained during the last battle.

He made his way over, causing her to look up momentarily, staring at him through the darkened visor of her welding mask. She turned back to continue her task for a few more moments, before turning off the torch and sliding down a line of rope and taking off her visor, looking at him curiously.

“What’s up?” She asked, shaking loose her messy tufts of blue hair.

Cameron shrugged, “Eh, just kind of walking around. Waiting for whatever briefing Logan wants to do so we can get this shit kicked off.”

“Ah,” She said with a nod, “Where’s little miss EarthGov at?”

He sighed and rolled his eyes, throwing a thumb behind him towards the door leading back towards the maze of hallways that formed the bowels of the ship, “I don’t know. Somewhere back there, hopefully regretting her choice to come on here.”

“Oh?” She said leaning against the leg of the Crusader, removing her gloves and eyeing him curiously, “Trouble in paradise?”

Cameron laughed with a nod, “Yeah, something like that…”

He recounted the earlier exchange he’d had with Sybil, as well as the inciting incident that brought him into the company of the Fenris in the first place. Aurora, to her credit, didn’t react too harshly as Cameron told his tale, merely nodding along as he spoke, or asking the occasional question. When he was finished, she merely looked at him, smirking and slowly shaking her head.

“Oh I’m sorry,” He said, feeling a fresh wave of anger beginning to bubble up inside of him, “Did I say something fucking amusing?”

“No no,” She said with a chuckle as she continued to shake her head, “Just a couple of follow-up questions is all… you have headache? Feeling a little nauseous? Maybe a little dizzy?”

These seemingly innocuous probing threw Cameron off guard. So much so, his anger calmed enough for him to consider her strange questions. Sure enough, he did indeed feel off. His head felt foggy and heavy, his eyes felt like they were slowly dragging their way back and forth, and his stomach felt sick and sour. He looked down as he patted his person, before looking back up at Aurora who met his gaze with a smirk and a raised eyebrow.

“Well?” She asked, crossing her arms as she watched him.

“Actually… Y-Yeah,” He said, looking slightly concerned, “How did you know?”

“Turn around,” She said.

“Why?” He asked.

“I’m gonna fix you,”

“I told you, I’m that kind of girl.”

“Just do it, dipshit,” She said.

Reluctantly obeying, he turned away from her, focusing on the silhouette of his Headsman in the back corner of the bay. Without preamble, he felt her arm snake its way around his throat, before, with a sudden sharp pain that took his breath away, he felt something of a spike-like object plunged into his neural uplink jack.

“Hnng…Gah!” He groaned, eyes bulging wide before they rolled back inside of his skull. His legs turned to jelly before swiftly disappearing underneath him. He sank to his knees and threw his head back as a torrent of neon blue ones and zeroes passed in front of his blackened vision at the speed of light. He began to twitch and shake, mumbling incoherently for a moment, before, as quicky as it had begun it stopped. Slowly, his vision returned to normal, his feeling returned to his lower extremities, as he felt control over his body coming back to him.

He shot to his feet, whipping around to see Aurora, a shiny metallic spike clutched in her hand, as she struggled to fend off a wave of amused laughter.

“Wha…” He gasped, “What the f-fuck was that?”

“How do you feel?” She asked in a sing-song tone.

“Violated!” He bellowed.

“And?”

He paused his dramatics for a moment, taking the time to assess himself. To his surprise he felt… good. Great even. His head was clear, his nausea a non factor, his lethargy completely eradicated. He looked at her, surprise clear across his face as she explained.

“It’s called a binaric jack,” She said, “Now that you're neurologically interfacing with an A.R.M.S. unit, your brain is under tremendous strain from all the information being passed from the V.I., that's partially why it hurts so much to thread yourself into a mech. But once your syanpses get used to the information overload, it slowly starts to become your bodies preferred state of being.”

“Okay…” Cameron say slowly, attempting to follow her logic.

She sighed with a groan as her shoulders slumped. “Ugh! Alright… In layman’s terms think of it like this. Piloting an A.R.M.S. unit is like taking an addictive drug. The more you use it, the more addicting it becomes. When you’re out of the mech, your body goes through withdrawals. This little device is kinda like a patch. It provides a temporary binaric burst to hold you over and keep you from being so pissy.

“Ya know,” He said, “I don’t really think I was being pissy. I feel like I was at least somewhat justified in voiceing my opinions.”

“True,” She said with a nod, “But would you have normally acted like an edgy teenager and threw a bitch fit at the one woman around who actually enjoys your company?”

“Okay… hurtful… but… probably not.”

“Exactly,” She said, giving her arm a flourish as she continued. “She just caught you at the wrong time, and you probably made her cry. Although-”

“I did not make her cry.”

“Yeah you did,” Logan’s voice rang out from behind him. He and Aurora turned to see Logan standing there arms crossed and dressed in his operator attire. Looking at the two of them skeptically with a raised eyebrow. His brow went up even further when his eyes caught the gleam of the Binaric Jack in Aurora’s hand.

“Already?” Logan asked.

Aurora shrugged, looking just as confused as Cameron did, silently mouthing out ‘I don’t know’.

“Hmm,” He said, looking between Cameron and the Headsman, “I mean you did skip a level… maybe that increase in data transfer caused you to start earlier than most. I guess It’ll just be something you’ll have to deal with.”

“Why does everything bad just so happen to be ‘something I have to deal with?’” Cameron complained.

“Why do you have to make EarthGov officials cry?” Logan asked.

“Yeah, ya monster,” Aurora chimed sarcastically, “I get murdering random strangers for money, but to toy with the emotions of a woman who could have us sanctioned and shot? How do you sleep at night?”

“Okay, what are you doing her?” Cameron said, turning on Logan and ignoring the teasing coming from the pair.

“Is it not my ship?” Logan asked.

“Ya know … I missed when you were being a pissy little asshole.”

“Yeah well,” Logan said, “Seems like you got that distinction now. In any case, we’re getting ready to leave slip-space in a couple hours. Got a holo conference set up with the raid team leaders so we can run through the plan and get ready. I’m expecting heavy resistance so we’re gonna be dropping hot and it’s best to be prepared.”

“Fair enough,” Cameron said, “Lead the way boss.”

“Think I should grab a muzzle first?” Logan asked, “You know, just in case someone asked your opinions on the weather?”

“Just shut up and walk,” Cameron said, feeling his eye beginning to twitch.

---

The holographic images of two men stood atop the conference table, arms crossed, waiting silently as the group of the Fenris poured into the briefing room. They were off similar build and dress, built stocky, short, and garbed in slightly baggy gray jump suits. Black plate carries stood prominent on their chests, projecting a thin shimmering shield, meant to protect their bodies from rail rifle fire, as industrial looking breathing apparatuses dug into their cheeks, cutting off half of their faces from the chin up.

“I’m digging the masks. Really selling the whole ‘terrifying spec-ops’ outfit,” Cameron said, drawing the men’s attention, motioning to the devices as he sat down, flanked on either side by Logan and Aurora.

“‘Preciate ya,” One of the men said, his accent heavy and metropolitan, “I wanted to go with pink tube tops and assless chaps, but I ran out of lace at the last minute. This was the all we could find last minute.”

“Oooooh, I like these guys,” Cameron said through a chuckling smirk, “They’re funny.”

His amused grin quickly dropped into a more serious and neutral tone as the clicking of Sybil’s heels echoed from the hallway. She entered the room, eyes cast down and pointedly avoiding Cameron’s gaze. Approaching the head of the table, she sat down and unstacked a few files, shuffling them around, making it very clear she had no interest in looking up as she motioned with her hand towards the holograms.

“Gentlemen, if you please,” She said flatly.

“Very well, Ms. Moore,” one man said before taking a step forward and looking around the conference room from his perch at the center of the table.

“Good day, crew of the Fenris, I am Arthur Kremmel, Sergeant and leader of Team Osiris of the EarthGov Ground Forces Command, special weapons and tactics division. I’m joined here today by Sergeant Sam Mendoza, the leader of Team Anubis, and together we will be briefing you as to the ROE and frag order for the upcoming raid on The Manna Groups research laboratory.”

Sergeant Kremmel started making a series of flailing gestures before a holographic wireframe model comprising a topographic map overlay on a three-dimensional blueprint model of a series of buildings.

“There’s a total of five structures at this outpost, situated in a large crater deep inside of an asteroid field. This includes two research laboratories, one parts warehouse, one housing unit, and one manufacturing plant.”

Each building was highlighted as Kremmel spoke about them. Once finished with listing the different structures, he circled his finger around on of the two research labs, situated towards the back of the compound, and as he did a circle of light wrapped its way around it, highlight the building as an area of interest as he continued to speak.

“We have actionable intelligence that tells us the A.E.I.A. module is located in this lab, behind a reinforced vault. The crux of this operation hinges on the objective that we breach this vault and secure the module, or destroy it.”

“Alright,” Logan said, “That explains, the overview, now what about things that actually matter to us? What’s the kill order?”

Sergeant Mendoza stepped forward at that moment, using another series of gestures to cause a number of blue arrows to appear on the sides of the compound, with a large purple arrow pointing towards the front of the facility and series of red X’s inside the compound itself.

“In approximately four hours,” Menendez began, “Osiris and Anubis will position ourselves on the outer perimeter to the left and right lateral limit of the facility exterior. Fenris forces, I.E. you two,” He said, pointing towards Logan and Cameron, “Will begin the assault by punching through the front entry point, causing a ruckus, and drawing the attention of the Squire and A.R.M.S. units stationed there. Once that’s done, we’ll breach through the wall and get started on some… wetwork.”

“Wetwork?” Cameron asked.

“I think a better word is War-Crime,” Logan said leaning over to whisper into Cameron’s ear, “No one working there is going to be leaving after today.”

“Oh…” Cameron said softly, eyes wide with understanding as he looked between the Sergeants and Sybil, who was pointedly avoiding his gaze, “Well… that’s kinda fucked.”but

Mendoza shrugged nonchalantly, “Orders are orders. They shouldn’t have been fucking around with this stuff in EarthGov space.”

Cameron wanted to argue, wanted to try and haggle for the lives of these non-combatants, but it seemed like he was the only one concerned about them, as even Logan was ambivalent to their execution, choosing instead to simply push forward with the briefing instead of dwelling on the grim revelation.

“Alright,” Logan said, motioning with his fingers to hurry up, “We’ve taken out the enemy armor, and the employees have gone from present to past tense, what’s next?”

Mendoza pointed towards the same facility as Kremmel, the one containing the vault and A.E.I.A. module, “Once that’s finished, we’ll sync up and surround the research lab. One of you will need to disembark and rendezvous with us in order to raid the vault. Your A.R.M.S. units are outfitted with a secondary intelligence slot that can be used to transport the AI back to the Fenris, where Ms. Moore will then take ownership of it, you guys can get paid out, and we can go our separate ways. Quick, easy, to the point. Any questions?

---

There was a few more minutes spent in the conference room wrapping up mundane administrative tasks such, but eventually, everyone filed out of the room generally satisfied and prepared for the mission. All except one however, as Cameron had a task to tend to before the start of the raid. He lagged behind the others, sticking around to wait for Sybil as she packed and cleaned up the room, her head down, and quiet.

“Hey,” He said, sounding sheepish and nervous, “Um… Can we talk?”

His question was met with a wall of silence, left hanging uncomfortably in the air as she continued to pack up her belongings.

“Sybil? I was wondering -”

“I heard you, Mr. Ket.”

“Oh I… Wait… Mr. Ket?”

“That’s your name isn’t it?” She said, meeting his gaze finally, her tone cold and dismissive, “After all, It’s sure as hell isn’t Cameron. Right?”

“Okay… I deserve that,” He said slowly as he nodded, “That’s actually what I came to talk to you about Sybil.”

“We don’t need to talk about anything,” She replied in a tone laced with false honey.

“I mean… I feel like we do. Like… I didn’t mean to treat you like-”

“Oh I feel like you did Mr. Ket,” She said, turning her eyes downcast once again, “I just think now that you’ve calmed down, you regret what you said and are looking for acceptance or understanding now that you have a seemingly decent excuse for your actions.”

The words stabbed into him like an invisible blade crafted from vitriol and frustration. He cringed, but still gave another attempt.

“Look Sybil, can we just -”

Her hands slammed into the table with an audible echo, causing him to flinch in surprise. She slowly looked up her eyes squinted in an attempt to hide how bloodshot they’d been from crying.

“Cam,” She said slowly, enunciating each word, “You made your point very clear. And you’re right. You’re not the man I met back on Ketris. You’re not a prince, you’re a mercenary. I get that, and I know that I’m responsible for helping to make you that way. Excuse me for trying to make you forget that plight for even the shortest time.”

Cameron’s eyes started to widen, as his chin tried to work itself to form a response, yet all he managed was a series of shocked mumbling. Sybil, on the other hand, had no such qualms or hurdles in getting her point across.

“So do me a favor Cam, play the role you want to play. You want to be nothing more than a pilot? Fine by me. If that’s the case, I suggest you stop talking to me, and head to the bay to do your drop checklist.”

“Sybil… Please just let me-”

“Cameron… Mr. Ket. Let me put this in a way you can understand,” She said, walking up to him, her nose inches from his own as she whispered, “Leave me alone, and do the job I’m fucking paying you to do.”

With that, she turned and stormed out, her heels slowly clicking off into the distance, as she left Cameron alone with nothing but his thoughts.

“Oh…” He exclaimed with a heavy sigh after a minute, “Oh, I fucked up.”

“Yeah, you did!” Her voice rang out from down the hall.

He sucked his teeth, feeling his eyes roll as he walked out and making his way to the mech bay as he mumbled softly to himself, “They need to go ahead and start this mission. It’s probably safer there.”

Killian Gray had to fight to contain his excitement as he watched his navigator pin point his targets exit from slip-space, getting more and more giddy with every coordinate he was able to confirm. Finally, after nearly an hour of standing and watching the man tap away on his keyboard, he was rewarded with a confident smirk when the navigator looked at him over the shoulder and nodded.

“We got em sir,” The kid said, causing Killian to flash a toothy grin of his own.

“Good,” He said in a dangerous low growl, turning from the helm and making his way to the bay where is precious shadow was being outfitted with Caustos’s little toy.

“Full speed ahead, Jerick,” He called from over his shoulder, “I have an appointment to keep.”

---

Dust kicked up from the asteroid's surface as Crusader and Headsman blasted their way towards the coordinates Kremmel had given them. They’d been surface side for only about ten minutes, yet to Cameron it felt like every second was dragging on to infinity as he and Logan began the operation in silence.

“You alright?” He asked into the comm system after a few more minutes of quiet.

“Hm?” Logan grunted back, “Oh… yeah. It’s just… something's off.”

“What do you mean?”

A sigh greeted his question before Logan spoke again, “I don’t know. Like, my guts just telling me that something's off. But I don’t know what it is…”

“Think it’s the mission?” Cameron asked?

“No. The EarthGov guys know their shit. Even though they’re not pilots, they knew exactly where we would be most effective. They had all the intel about the outpost and a plan on what they wanted to do while we drew all the attention. It’s a solid plan and is being executed by trained professionals. And that’s what worries me.”

Almost as talking about them summoned them from the very ether, there was a crackling of static before Mendoza’s voice across the comm channel.

“Anubis-Actual to Wolfhound, how copy over?”

“Loud and clear Anubis,” Logan said, “Send it.”

“Anubis and Osiris are in position. AO’s hot.”

“Roger that, we’re Oscar Mike. Two clicks out now.”

“Roger. Out.”

Cameron listened to the static die, leaning forward as the terrain evened out into a relatively flat patch, as his boosters flared and he swiftly accelerated.

“Hold up, Kid,” Logan warned, causing him to immediately pull back, decelerating, and allowing the heavily armored crusader to catch up.

“What’s up?” Cameron asked, “Something wrong?”

“It’ll be better for the raid if we hit the gate together,” Logan said, “Let me breach and move in after me. Should make for a better initial assault.”

“Ugh… fine.” Cameron huffed, “Think we can a little bit faster than the speed of drying paint at least?”

“Fuck off,” Logan shot back, raising Crusader’s mace to point ahead, “We’re already here.”

Off in the distance, the outpost loomed larger than Cameron expected. High walls comprising iron bars over a stone berm offered an oppressive deterrent to the two pilots as they both leaned forward, accelerating together in coordinated silence.

“I’m picking up a decent sized grouping of Squire and A.R.M.S. signatures sugar,” Thelma chimed inside of Cameron’s brain, “Fifteen and three respectively. Pilot rating is unknown at this time but likely under gamma rating.”

“I appreciate ya Thelma,” Cameron said sharply as he reached back and felt the Physilight rod forming in his hand, letting him know the Headsman’s hand was gripped firmly around the handle of his sword.

“Looks like we’re gonna have a fight on our hands, Kid, ” He heard Logan say over the comm channel as he looked over at him in his Crusader, raising his shield and bracing it out in front of him.

“When don’t we have a fight?” Cameron asked, with a chuckle as he whipped his sword, holding it crossbody as he matched Logan’s top speed.

“When we don’t get paid,”

“Well then,” Cameron shot back, “Let’s go make some money.”

---

Killian observed the two pilots raid the compound from his perch high on top a nearby plateau, using his Shadow’s active Camoflauge to meld into the dusty brown rock of the asteroid, studying his prey. He watched as Ket and his patron, Logan Rake crashed through the barrier containing their target with the intensity of an old world artillery shell. Stone and iron exploded into a fine dust, obscuring his vision for a time, until the fighting began.

His gamma class vision let him follow the Headsman’s movements rather easily, but even so, he had to force himself to focus to get a clear observation on his movements.

“Kronos,” He said softly, pressing a button to deliver solution into his eyes, preventing him from blinking, “Give me an analysis on that Headsman unit down there and it’s comparable strength as summed up in the traditional ranking system of The Fleet.”

“Of course, master,” A deep, gravelly voice rang back. In the lower periphery of his vision, Killian saw Kronos appear as always, a disembodied cloaked head. There was a few moments of silence as the two of them watch the man pick apart the compounds security detail with a speed and alacrity not often seen at the lower ranks. He cleaved through multiple Squires at once, cutting down sometimes three or for at a time, while fending off the few Beta Logos pilots set to guard this place.

“Odd… He’s definitely punching above his weight. But… it doesn’t seem like his mechs rank is having to much of an adverse effect on him.”

“The Headsman is a bespoke unit type, master,” Kronos said, “It’s a rare type of machine that can maneuver well above it’s rated rank, thanks to the litany of pulse boosters that cover the frame. I do believe this particular model has been modified as well.”

“If you had to grade it, what would you give?” Killian asked.

“If I had to do such a thing by the parameters you requested,” Kronos replied, “I would say his speed and dexterity at Bravo Sirus currently, with his offensive capabilities pushing the lower limits of Bravo Primus. His durability, however, I cannot grade because he has not been harmed yet.”

“I don’t think he will to be honest with you,” Killian said slowly, entranced by the display of death and destruction his target was presenting to him.

“I don’t understand, Master. What do you mean?”

“I mean… that I bet his armor is almost non-existent. He’s traded weight and safety for speed and agility. Assuming I’m right, I think that given the right circumstances, a squire would be able to kill him.”

“That is quite the observation master,” Kronos said, “Which means that for a Gamma Sirius such as yourself…”

Killian grinned wolfishly, “It’ll be child s play.”

---

Cameron finished cutting down the last A.R.M.S. unit, a Lancer, with high vertical slash, using the momentum of the Headsman’s heavy blade, couple with his thrusters to force the weapon through his opponents lance, held up high in an attempt to block, and down into the skull, bisecting the unit in a perfect line.

“Whew,” He said, breathing heavy through burning lungs, “These Betas are a little harder to deal with compared to the Squires and Alphas from Celephis.”

“Oh shut up,” Logan said, wrenching his mace free from a crumpled beta chassis, “I wouldn’t have even dreamt about taking on one Beta class at your rating, let alone multiple.”

“What can I say?” Cameron said, “I guess I’m just a natural.”

“Natural jackass maybe,” Logan said, switching over the comm channel back to the EarthGov teams, “Wolfhound actual to Anubis and Osiris,”

“Send it Wolfhound,” Kremmel called back a moment later.

“Big bastards are dealt with, breach is a go,”

“Roger.”

The channel clicked off abruptly, and Cameron was concerned that he hadn’t picked up everything that was relayed over the link. That was until walls to the left and right were disintegrated in two massive explosions that caused Cameron’s chassis to jostle from the magnitude.

“Woah shit!” He exclaimed, “These guys know how to party.”

“Yeah, they’re not fucking around,” Logan said softly.

The pair of them watched as the two kill teams poured into the compound like a colony of ants, going building to building. They broke down doors with a speed and deftness Cameron had never seen before, before filling the windows danced with the repeated bright blue flashes of rail-rifle fire. Barely three minutes after the explosions went off, the deed was done, leaving both teams gathered together outside the last laboratory, waiting to proceed with the next phase.

“Osiris to Wolfhound,” Kremmel called back, “Ready for a snatch and grab?”

“Yessir,” Logan said, “Moving there now,”

“You sure about this?” Cameron asked after he heard the click of the EarthGov channel closing, “I mean, even with your weird little feeling, you’re still down to do this?”

“Am I sure about this?” Logan repeated, slowly moving his mech to the back of the compound with Cameron in tow, “Absolutely not. Am I going to do this? You bet your ass I am.”

“Fair enough boss, let’s get this shit over with.”

The two of them glided over to the rendezvous, now filled with EarthGov soldiers, and stopped, letting both mechs idle as Logan called over to Cameron to remind him of the plan.

“Here’s how this is gonna go,” He said, “I’m going to exit my crusader, run inside the vault with these guys, grab the module, and then we’re getting the fuck out. Quick, clean, and efficient.”

“Roger that,” Cameron said, taking in the brief overview, “What about oxygen? Pressure suits?”

“Not needed,” Logan said quickly, “Manna Group built their own artificial atmosphere that covers the entire rock. Just enough to breath and walk around, I’ll be fine.”

“Fair enough… what do you need me to do then?”

“The most important job I can think of,” Logan said, “Stand guard and make sure my paint doesn’t get chipped.”

“… You’re a real asshole you know that?” Cameron said after a minute of silence.

Logan laughed, his Crusader shrugging as it mirrored the gesture he had performed from the cockpit.

“I’m sure you’ll learn to live with it kid. I can trust you in mech, but behind a firearm? That makes me a little nervous.”

“That’s hurtful,”

“Well maybe later you can cry on a pile of silver,” Logan shot back, “Look, just pull security and I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Fine…” Cameron huffed, “But next time, you’re playing the babysitter and I’m doing the cool shit.”

“If I’m feeling generous that day, then sure.”

“Eh, I’ll take what I can get,” Cameron said, watching as the back hatch of Logan’s Crusader lifted its plates, exposing his muscular back as the uplink threads removed themselves from his body. Slowly, he turned his body in such a way that allowed him to reach out and grasp the first ladder rung going down the mech’s left leg, and climb his way to the floor below. He wore a comm set, that Cameron knew was still transmitting as he heard Logan’s heavy breath with every foot he climbed, the thin air of the artificial atmosphere making any physical act more laborious and challenging. Stepping off the ladder and onto the dusty floor, Cameron watched him pull out a rail pistol and prime it, before making his way over to the EarthGov troops. As he walked, he tapped the headset with his finger, and his voice was coming over Cameron’s comm channel once again.

“Testing testing. Can ya hear me kid?” He asked.

“Loud and clear boss.”

“Roger,” Logan said, “I’ll be out soon enough then, stay safe.”

“Awe… and hear I was thinking you didn’t care.”

“… Kid you make it so hard to be nice to you sometimes.”

“You know, I think it’s somewhat of a talent.” Cameron said.

“Well I’m glad you have one of those after all,” Logan shot back, “Just don’t do anything stupid while I’m gone, alright?”

“Like what?”

“Oh I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

---

Killian watched as the soldiers and Rake entered the laboratory, and grinned. How lucky he was that his quarry was left alone, saving him from the mundanity and tedium of having to massacre the whole raid force just to get to Ket. He inhaled through his nose, closing his eyes as he did, feeling a wave of calm wash over him. Slowly his eyes opened, instantly locking onto the black hooded figure of the headsman. The high-pitched ring of Caustos’s little toy being primed as Kronos confirmed the action inside of his brain.

“Pulse cannon is armed, Master. We are ready to begin the mission.”

“Excellent.”

Cameron glided slowly around the compound, scanning the environment for… anything.

“What’s wrong, sugar?” Thelma asked, “Your vital signs show a distinct lack of dopamine, indicating your current activity is lacking in proper mental stimulation.”

“You should have been a detective, Thelma,” Cameron said sarcastically.

“Aww shucks, that’s mighty sweet of you, sugar. Unfortunately, my programming only facilitates mechanical diagnostics and battlefield analysis, but a girl can dream.”

He chuckled softly, feeling a smile forming as he continued to gaze out across the landscape. The hills and craters of the asteroid, a pale rocky terrain providing a stark contrast to the star filled purple sky, shining brightly even as wisps of fog reached up and danced their way across his vision.

He blinked.

Then he looked down at the landscape once again, making sure he wasn’t seeing things. Sure enough, there was a wave a gray fog, wafting across the ground, rolling and coalescing together to make a large wall, as slowly inched its way into the compound.

“Um… Thelma?” Cameron said slowly, curiosity evident in his voice, “Does fog usually form on Asteroids?”

“Not generally, Sugar,” she said, “Why do you ask?”

“Care to explain what that shit is?”

“Analyzing,” She said, as a silver beam formed from the chest of his Headsman, crisscrossing over the gaseous wall. After a minute of a silent analysis, Thelma spoke up once again, sounding slightly anxious as she did.

“Erm, Sweetheart? I’d highly recommend reaching out to Mr. Rake, and urge him to skedaddle on out of here quick, fast, and in a hurry.”

“Why?” He asked, worry starting to bleed its way into his own speech now, “What’s up Thelma?”

“That’s no fog, Sugar. That’s a smokescreen.”

---

Logan stalked his way down the sterile, bare hallway, sweeping left and right with his rail pistol as they passed door after door, slowly making their way towards the location of the vault. Rifle fire cracked loudly throughout the quiet complex, as the smell of ozone and blood smothered the air with a stench of death. Eventually, he came upon a series of quarantine doors, doors ajar after having their locks melted open by a series of shots. Pushing inside, he saw what could have only been called a massacre.

“Holy shit…” He breathed, looking at all the half melted bodies of scientists and lab assistants sprawled around the room. Not combatants, not security, but civilians. Hell, judging by the location of where most of them had been slain, primarily being the back corners of the room, Logan was almost certain none of them even bothered to put up a fight.

“What’s the hold up?” Mendoza asked, his voice calm and neutral, as if he was merely discussing the weather.

Logan looked up to see the man moving bodies aside with his foot, callously pushing their remains aside as he appeared to search for something. He narrowed his eyes at the cold barbarity of the soldier and had to keep reminding himself where he was in order to keep his finger from squeezing down on the trigger.

“This isn’t right.”

“What isn’t?” Mendoza asked, not even bothering to look up.

Logan grit his teeth, grinding them slowly, “Can you honestly stand in this room and ask that question?”

This caught Mendoza’s attention, and he looked up, his gray eyes staring into Logans as he respond with a barely noticed shrug. “There are trillions of people in this galaxy rake. A few hundred is just a drop in the bucket.”

“They still didn’t deserve to die.”

“There’s millions that don’t deserve it, and yet they die all the same. Besides, if HQ tells me they deserve it, that’s good enough for me.”

Logan’s eye twitched, and he had to force himself to holster his pistol in order to stop himself from painting the wall with the soldiers brains. He took a breath, closing his eyes, and tried to mentally suppress the images currently burning themselves into his mind.

“Wolfhound!” Kremmel’s voice came from the back of the lab, through a series of double doors. Logan looked up in time to see him barging into the lab, throwing a thumb back over his shoulder and gave a nod.

“We found it.”

---

Cameron tentatively took a step toward the oncoming wall of smokescreen barreling it’s way towards him. He grabbed the sword tightly with both hands, feeling the pleasant warmth of the Physilight rods pulse gently in his palms.

“Thelma,” He said softly, almost as if whoever sent this cloud would hear him through the cockpit, “Give me a vision scan. I need to know what’s hiding in the smoke.”

Instead of replying as normal, Cameron’s eyes merely tinted a soft light green. Much to his dismay however, no matter how hard he looked, his vision wouldn’t pierce through the dense fog that slowly started to surround him.

“Well this isn’t good…” He said.

“No Sugar, I’d say not.” Thelma responded.

Thinking quickly, Cameron thumbed the switch for his speaker, and tried his best to keep the anxiety out his voice as he spoke.

“Whoever’s out there, Let it be known you’re currently interfering with an ongoing EarthGov operation. Stand down now.”

What happened next sent a chill down his spine, and for the first time in a very long time, illicited a primal surge of fear welling up from the pit of his stomach, as he recieved a reply from directly behind him from a voice as cold as the vacuum of space.

“Good thing I’m not here for them.”

---

Logan walked behind Kremmel as the two of them exited the lab through the double doors and entered what look like to be a giant supply closet. Brooms and mobs leaned against the wall on one side, while to the right, row upon row of research and office supplies sat neatly organized on a series of black plastic shelves, and situated in the center of the back wall, was a large steel vault door.

He whistled as they approached, his eyes going over the heavy industrial details of the door. It was thick and dull in color, with a giant unlocking wheel in the center, and keybad on the left hand side.

“I take it you have the code to get in?” He asked, turning to Kremmel.

“Not exactly,” Kremmel said, before reaching into his pack and pulling out a chunky black square sheet. He began unfolding it and soon, the square had unfurled into a large rectangular sheet, large enough to cover the entire door. A series of mettalic tubes glinted in the light as they fromed a ring around the threshold, and Logan’s eyes went wide as he read the words painted onto the front of the fabric that now faced him.

“Thermite?” He asked.

Kremmel shrugged, looking back at him with a knowing grin, “I’m lazy, what can I say?”

Without another word, Kremmel pushed down on a plunger he had in his palm, and the room went awash with a bright white light as all the cannisters of the sheet ignited at once. Within seconds, the metal of the door was burned away, causing the massive slab of steel to crash to the ground in a loud echoing thud.

“Open says-me” Kremmel said with a chuckle as he Logan stepped over the door and into the vault. Logan’s eyes widened as they adjusted from the sterile light of the rest of the lab, to the dim gray glow that illuminated the vault. Inside, Logan’s eyes widen as he found it’s source.

Perched atop a platform and connected to a series of tubing and wiring, was a small glass canister, large enough to fit snuggly in a hand, and stuffed full of elctronics which pulsed with a dim gray glow.

“Woah…” Logan said softly.

“Never seen an A.I. before?”

Logan shook his head, “Never. For some reason I thought it’d be… bigger.”

He reached out, and wrapped his hands around the device, marveling at the warmth the cannister was giving off. With a twist, he pulled the tube free from it’s alter, exposing a long set of brass prongs on the underside.

“Well…” He said, bringing the device close to his face in order to study it further, “That was e-”

“Mayday! Mayday!” Cameron’s voice cut through the relative calm moment like a crimson hot blade, jarring Logan and nearly causing him to drop the tube.

“Kid?!” Logan said, stuffing the A.I. into a secured container on his belt, “What’s going on? Are you okay?”

“No, I’m not fucking okay!” Cameron screamed, terror causing his voice to quiver, “I’m in a smokescreen and my right hand is gone! I need help!”

---

Cameron turned his boosters on full blast as he did his best to weave and dodge through the thick plumes of smoke that now comprised what he feared would be his tomb. A soft whistling sound came from his left side as he banked hard to the right and, moving by instinct and training, he broad his blade up just in time to feel the powerful reverberations of tungsten colliding with tungsten, as a series of class smacked against the flat mass of his sword, sending him flying back at an awkward angle, crashing into the dirt.

As the purple light of space greeted his eyes, he breathed a sigh relief for being knocked out of the gaseous tomb. That relief only lasted until his vision of the sky was blocked by a figure of pure death, as his assailant leaped into air, raising a clawed hand high in an attempt to impale him. Thinking quickly, Cameron rolled to the right, narrowly avoiding the two meter long claws which plunged their way into the dirt. He looked up, straining to peer through the upturned dust, and finally catching a good look at his attacker.

The mech wasn’t so much the color black, as it was that of Darkness. It didn’t reflect the light as much as it absorbed it into the endless void of it’s chassis. It was lean and wispy, standing a head taller than the Headsman, and nearly half as wide, the only bulk of it’s whole setup being it’s weapons, with a large clawed gauntlet on it’s right wrist, and a weird, cannon-like device on the left. Black bandages clung to each of it’s extremities and it’s two pin prick eyes grew red with a calculating malice.

Cameron used a boost to shoot to his feet, and spun rapidly, bringing his sword around in a wide arc, wanting to cleave the skinny bastard in two.

“Just. Fuck. Off!” Cameron bellowed using the boosters in his elbows to drive the blade home even faster.

It was a shame it hit nothing but air.

In a flash, the black mech had disappeared, vanishing into the ether in the blink of an eye as Cameron’s blade made a crater in the dirt.

He seethed with fury, struggling to bring his sword up with just the one hand, “Where the fuck are you!”

“Here.”

“Cam, watch out!” Thelma screamed.

It was too late.

Schunk

Cameron gasped a choked, gurgling, scream as a pair of blades pierced through his back and out of the front armor plate of his cockpit they glistened in the night sky with equal parts of blood and oil. He shuddered and twitched, feeling a warm sticky liquid beginning to coat his thighs, as his vision turned double.

“You’re not as good as you think you are… Pellyn.” The strangers voice said in little more than a whisper.

Cameron felt the blades being wrenched free, as boot kicked hard into his sending him sprawling to the ground, eyes unable to move from their position, gazing into the sterile white light of the open door of the labratory, now darkening with the shadow of a humanoid figure

“Oh no. Just hang on Sugar!” Thelma cried, “I’m beginning diagnostic and medical triage now! Well get you- AHHHHHHHHH”

Her words were cut off in an instant, replaced by a digitized scream that faded off into an ether as blast of purple energy enveloped his cockpit.

“T-Thelma…” He groaned silently.

In reply, a toneless robotic voice greeted him, “Virtual Intelligence Module has sustained catastrophic damage. Entering shutdown mode.”

He felt the headsman beginning to squeeze and compress itself, as it started to press painfully into his uplink threads. Not that he could feel much anymore to begin with. Instead, he simply focused on the figure running towards him now. It was male, he knew that much, built widem and bald, with dark skin and golden eyes, his mouth opened in a blood curdling scream of his name that carried him into unconsciousness.

“CAMERON!”