133: Mecha Combat – Sixteen
Stepping down from the personnel ramp and waiting for the Necupole guards to finish scanning them was something that Pryseia was not going to miss. The air of condescension about them, the scoffs barely muffled behind their helmets as they judged everything about them, from her own horns and tail to the medkit Rhea had kept clipped to her belt ever since Erkanschlde had warned them of sabotage at past events, all of it had grown incredibly stale, and Pryseia couldn't wait to be away from this world.
The mood inside the activity centre, however, was a far cry from what it was like on the outside of it. The mercenaries were friendly and lively, shouting across at one another as they all made their way to their seats, and extended the same treatment to the crew of the Pelekys as they themselves trickled in. A mixed bag from every social echelon - Enlightened, Greater, and Lesser alike - and yet they treated each other with none of the disdain that their hosts treated them. It was as heartening as it was maddening to Pryseia.
Heartening, because here was a prime example of what unity across the galaxy could be like, if the elite could be bothered to engage with everyone with the same grace they extended to their peers. And maddening, because here was a prime example of what unity across the galaxy should be like, if only the elite would engage with everyone like they were the intelligent people they were, not the mindless animals they treated them as.
An unfathomable amount of suffering across the stars, all because those in power wouldn't acknowledge that all of them were equals when it came to carving out their lives. The fact that this was an issue across every sentient species in the galaxy was proof that they all had more in common with each other than they would deign to admit. Pryseia could only hope that, someday, those who wanted to work with others instead of against them would outnumber those who would prefer to actively cause anyone but their own ilk harm, because this was a problem too widespread for any single person to overcome. As much as she wished she could reach out a hand and change the entire galaxy for the better, Pryseia knew she could only do so much, and so she would spend her time and energy on those that she loved.
The rest of the galaxy would have to sort itself out without her.
It was with that thought in mind that Pryseia had one last helping of the breakfast parfait that had been the staple for their time here, a decent enough snack now and again, but having it every single day without variation had caused it to lose its lustre. Pryseia was very thankful that she and the rest of her crew made sure to have more varied breakfasts before they made their way over to the activity centre in the mornings, because if this had been all that she'd been allowed to eat? She would have been in a worse state than during her panic attack.
Breakfast was followed by a final round of Tolla and Kassi whipping their audience into a fervor, announcing the matchup between the mechs of MGJX Corp and FHN Systems. In the activity centre, cheers went up for both Pryseia and Bulle, Gelimp loudest among them, and Pryseia caught her opponent's eye with a glass raised in cheer. Bulle mirrored her gesture, and though their expression never changed, their eyes were bright with excitement.
Soon enough, dishes were cleared, and Pryseia changed into her gaudy pilot suit for one last time. With the shouts of the mercenaries and her own crew ringing in her ears, Pryseia hopped onto the transport sled next to Bulle as the pair of them were brought to the arena.
"I'm really looking forward to this fight," Bulle told her, the perpetual frown of their beak at odds with the merry twinkle in their eyes, "You're an exceptional pilot, better than the rest I've bested so far."
"As are you," Pryseia returned, dipping her head in recognition of Bulle's deeds, "Let's give the Necupole a fight the likes of which their own pilots would be hard pressed to replicate, hm?"
Dipping their own head in response, the dark feathers of their crest flaring in amusement, Bulle let out a chuckle. "The only reason they won't give us the recognition we deserve is because they'd have to confront the fact that we're better than they could ever hope of being, and how would their egos ever come to terms with that?"
Malakh was in the middle of getting their snacks organized, and Elytra their drinks, when the comms console in their suite chimed unexpectedly, and the five of them shared a puzzled look. As she'd already been standing, adjusting the volume on Tolla and Kassi's preamble before the match began, Rhea stepped over to the console, accepting the incoming call while the others fell silent, out of view from the console's camera.
Unsurprisingly, Erkanschlde appeared on screen once the call connected, the woman dressed in an orange and violet business suit that seemed to be composed of panels of silk and leather, rigid and flowing all at once. Her makeup was an ombre band across her eyes in the same colours, with designs running from temple to jaw styled in a similar fashion as her company's logo, her lavender eyes vivid against the orange of her makeup.
"I do apologize for not getting in contact with you sooner," Erkanschlde said by way of greeting, "My investigation of Pihka Geislischlde ended up being a little more involved that I expected, but I've got a much better understanding of her character now."
"Oh?" Rhea said innocently, a tone that had the others on edge, "What did you find out about her?"
Erkanschlde let out a self-depreciating huff as she explained, "That I misjudged her due to my own paranoia. I spoke to Pihka at length, and what I had assumed was the demeanour of someone come to destabilize the tournament that I've grown as fond of as I am protective of it, was actually the standoffishness of someone who doesn't enjoy being in a crowd."
From where she was standing, snack bowl in hand, Malakh smirked at Nevara, who flipped her off in return.
"So she's not planning anything nefarious for this final match?" Rhea asked, and Erkanschlde shook her head at that.
"Thankfully, she's as keen on participating in future tournaments as I am," Erkanschlde confirmed, "This may be her first entry, but she doesn't plan on it being her last."
Rhea gave a curt nod in return, crossing her arms as she asked, "So did the two of you just enter into negotiations, or was this a full merger?"
Her eyebrows tugging down so fiercely that the band of makeup across her eyes momentarily became a chevron, Erkanschlde blurted, "What?"
Doing a poor attempt at stifling her own smile, Rhea didn't say a word, just tapped the side of her throat. A moment later, and a blue blush flared beneath Erkanschlde's makeup as she slapped a hand over the right side of her neck, and the hickies peaking out from the collar of her shirt.
"If it's any consolation, there's been a lot of that going on over here," Rhea told her, eyes sparkling with mirth, "The mercenaries are living it up."
The laugh that fell out of Erkanschlde was somewhere between amused and embarrassed. "I can only imagine. Regardless, I again apologize for not getting this information to you sooner. I had hoped to deliver it to Pryseia before her match, but... well..."
"Don't worry, even if there actually was any sabotage, Pryseia would be able to handle it," Rhea assured her, "In our line of work, you have to operate under the assumption that things are going to go as badly as possible, so you're prepared for any kind of disaster. Besides, they'd need to completely power down the Aeon to prevent Pryseia from using it to fight, and even then, she'd probably scramble over to the other mech and pry open the cockpit so she could beat the shit out of the pilot with her bare hands."
"Thankfully, that shouldn't be something she'll have to do today," Erkanschlde chuckled, looking slightly less embarrassed, "Well, I should probably get this taken care of before I join the others before the bout. I have no doubt that I will be forwarding you the first place prize money later tonight. Enjoy the rest of the tournament."
"Oh we certainly will." Rhea assured her, and with a parting wave, Erkanschlde ended the call.
"Well," Elytra said with a laugh, "Good to know we don't need to worry about Bulle pulling something on Pryseia."
Shoving the bowl back into the food fabricator to finish making their snacks, Malakh added, "I'll say. That was the last, lingering worry I had about this whole thing. Now we can just kick back and enjoy the match without any kind of background drama stressing us out."
With Tolla and Kassi finally leading things into the beginning of the match, Rhea turned up the volume before taking a seat next to V'tala, shooting her a knowing look as she did.
For her own part, V'tala just stared at the screen, a wry smile tugging at her lips as she remembered Rhea pulling the same move on her just a few days ago. The Enlightened really had more in common with the Lesser than they'd ever admit.
Despite the sharp, bone juddering shocks that rattled through the cockpit of the Aeon with every move it made, every strike from Bulle it deflected, the cacophonous roar of machinery around her and the crowd beyond her, eyes straining as they darted across the display screens mounted to every wall around her, Pryseia couldn't keep the smile off her face.
Bulle was a worthy challenge, and it had been far too long since Pryseia had the pleasure of clashing weapons with someone as skilled in the pilot's seat as she was.
Well, almost as skilled.
The pale green blur of Bulle's cutlass slashing out towards the Aeon's neck was caught between the sweeping crests of Pryseia's axe, and she turned away the strike, rushing in to shove her opponent's mech bodily away.
Fighting like this was a far cry from what she'd grown accustomed to in Zaanlaa, the Storlayacas moving under her thoughts with a seamlessness that even her tweaks to the operating system of this mech couldn't match. Strapped firmly in place within that ancient Hyttan machine, the experience was no more exhausting than sitting at rest in a stationary chair. Within the cockpit of the Aeon, with its manual controls and lack of inertial dampeners, Pryseia was having to exert herself physically to wrestle the machine into doing her bidding, and to stay upright within the harness thrown over her shoulders. Despite this being closer to the control scheme in the Thalatte mechs she'd spent nearly a century fighting in, she'd forgotten how draining the experience could be.
But it wasn't enough to hinder her abilities.
The two of them had danced across the arena, trading blows and drawing out the fight to show off how truly skilled they were, but Pryseia could see that Bulle was beginning to flag too, the physical strain of their battle quickly reaching the threshold where pleasure turned to pain, and so with the instincts of trained fighters, they both realized it was time to bring this match to a close.
With a lunge and a feint, Bulle tried to slip under Pryseia's guard - a clever move, one that had no doubt ended the lives of many of Bulle's opponents, but it wasn't good enough to stop Pryseia.
Turning with the strike, she spun out of the way, her own axe cleaving through the air, Bulle's forward momentum allowing them no time to turn and deflect the attack that parted head from shoulders, the green and orange FHN mech stumbling to a rigid halt as its head smashed into the ground.
In the stands, the Necupole citizens howled in delight, completely unaware that it was to a Lesser that all this adoration was directed at. If only they knew.
If the crowd at the arena had thought themselves loud, they were nothing compared to the wall of sound that struck Pryseia and Bulle once they stepped back in to the activity centre.
Before either of them had a chance to do more than step in far enough to allow the door to slide shut behind them, a gaggle of mercenaries had swarmed them, hoisting the pair of them up on their shoulders. A chant rang out, a confusing mix of both of their names being shouted over one another, the mercenaries carrying them over to the table that Sailarnaalha was standing on, the woman motioning them over like she was directing a shuttle to land. With one last cheer, the mercs planted the pair of them upright on the table, where Sailarnaalha quickly grabbed them both by the shoulder, bringing them in to her sides.
"Well now, how about that!" Sailarnaalha shouted over the crowd, who broke down into quieter murmurs as she continued, "Our three time champion Gelimp thwarted by a newcomer, only to be thwarted by another newcomer in return! That's a bad look for the rest of us, isn't it? Makes us look like a bunch of slackers!"
Laughter rang out through the crowd at that, and Sailarnaalha jostled the two pilots tucked against her as she went on, "Fresh meat's always supposed to end up at the bottom of the pond in these little competitions, but Bulle of the Injakwagh and Pryseia of the Pelekys have blown that assumption clean out of the water, haven't they? If the rest of you sorry lot want to take a crack at the title the next time this tournament rolls around, you're gonna have to put in a lot more practice!"
Good natured booing broke out at that.
"But that's something that can wait until we're off this corporate nightmare of a planet," Sailarnaalha shouted as she shoved the two pilots away enough so she could grab their arms and lift them in the air one at a time as she called, "Here's to Bulle, for vanquishing our champion. And here's to Pryseia, for showing us that we really need to step up our game if we want to ever hope of getting on her level. The Necupole are gonna swing around at some point to shove us into a fancy shindig, but for now? We'll show these champions the proper way to celebrate!"
And with that, Sailarnaalha shoved the two pilots hard in the back, sending them into the crowd, who easily caught them and passed them hand over hand above them until they were ferried back to their waiting crews, music kicking on from the speakers as the party lighting threw colours across the room.
"That was incredible!" Elytra shouted as she helped to right Pryseia after her unexpected surf across the crowd, "I knew you would win, but seeing you in action?!"
"The volume of this celebration is certainly enough to match your efforts within the arena." Nevara said, beaming with pride.
Shaking her head, unable to fight the grin spreading across her face, Pryseia said, "It was nice to engage in a fight simply for the joy of it, no greater threat demanding it take place."
Looping an arm around her shoulders, Rhea said, "Maybe we should think about tracking more mech tournaments down, work that into our narrative somehow. As annoying as the Necupole were, this was pretty fun."
"We'd have to go in with someone else's mechs if we wanted to make things even a little bit fair," Malakh said, grinning viciously, "Because if we went in any with our own? BORING. We'd smash'em all without a fight!"
"Leviathan certainly put up more of a fight than a lot of these people did." V'tala said with a nod back at the crowd, the slightest of smirks on her face.
"That's something we can discuss once we're back nestled safely within the void," Pryseia said with a laugh, turning out of Rhea's hold so she could head back to their suite, "For now, I need a shower before I eat, and a nap before the festivities proceed any further. That fight was more grueling than I expected it to be."
Nodding to shoo her away, Nevara promised, "I'll wake you in time enough to make something of an appearance, go tend to your needs."
Giving her a wave in thanks, Pryseia made her way through the crowd, shouts of congratulations and hands clapping down on her back the entire way.
Pryseia hadn't expected her nap to last long, fully assuming that Nevara would have come to fetch her for a fashionably late entrance to the party.
She also hadn't expected to wake up to the feeling of her left arm losing all sensation. Her eyes flying open, her senses instantly on high alert, Pryseia had time enough to register only three things:
Her left arm was a dead weight at her side.
Her left eye was no longer transmitting imagery to the receptor in her optic nerve.
The silvery glint of the knife plunging towards her face.
Her hand snapped up on instinct, clenching the wrist of whoever it was trying to stab her, the leathery material of the jacket they wore flexing in her grip as something clamped around her own throat. She locked her elbow, straining to keep her assailant at bay as they leaned over her, trying to leverage their weight against her hold.
Her eyes darted across the form of the person struggling against her. A dark suit, matte black, conspicuously inconspicuous, and the snarling, sage green face of a Thalatte assassin.
Their arm shaking as they tried to force the knife down, the assassin spat out between clenched teeth, "I had family on the Mercatus! Siblings! They're dead because of you!"
Even if she had anything to say against that, Pryseia couldn't speak, the assassin's free hand gripping her throat tight enough that she felt their claws pierce her skin, their weight pressing down on her windpipe.
The assassin leaned over her further, their yellow eyes burning with hatred, and Pryseia felt a burning sensation in her throat as something within her snapped, the metallic tang of blood suddenly pooling in the back of her mouth.
She scrambled frantically, trying to wedge her legs in between her and her assailant, because if she didn't get them off of her rightnow, then she knew that she was going to die.