Scarlet Steel

Many mercenary groups are a family business, and hires outside of that are rare. People are born to be a pilot, live as a pilot, and die as a pilot. For obvious reasons, people are rarely given their first mech before they’re married and have a kid. Those children tend to grow up to be like their parents, and so, the mercenary group continues. - Pilots Through the Ages

Once the danger has passed, my breathing only quickens, and my entire body stiffens. I clench my fists to stop them from shaking, and desperately try to keep my breath steady.

“Talk it out.” Juno says gently. Of course she’d notice.

“I… I don’t know what’s wrong.” Exa is suddenly beside me, guiding me to the ground.

“Your brain’s catching up with your body.” Juno says. “There’s a drop after a hectic engagement like that. After the adrenaline has passed and you get time to reflect. It’s normal. We all get it. Do what you’ve got to do.”

“I didn’t get this the first time.”

“You did.” Exa says. “You were just too far gone to notice.”

“What do I do about it?” I bring my knees to my chest and hug them tight.

“Listen to your body.” Juno says. “If it tells you to cry, you cry. If it tells you to fight, we start up the simulator. If you’ve got to vomit, hit something, you do it. Nobody’s going to judge you. We’ve all been there.”

I just lean to the side, putting my weight into Exa. I try desperately to keep my tears from escaping, but once the first choking sob escapes my throat, the dam breaks. Everything comes out at once. I cry, I yell, I sob. With every breath my chest only tightens.

I reach for my helmet, twist, and throw it into the corner of the room, finally breathing fresh air. I bury my face in my hands and try desperately to hide my shaking body.

“Nothing even happened!” I yell. “Why!”

“It’s a physical reaction.” Elara’s holographic form crouches next to me. “You’re alright, it’ll pass. You’ll feel better when your hormones level out.”

“How long?”

“Give it an hour.” She says.

“Fuck.” I can’t handle this for an hour. “Listen to my body, right?”

“You can work on Hoppy.” Exa reassures me.

“And I couldn’t last time?” I force myself to my feet, every muscle straining just to move at all.

“You weren’t in reality last time. I let you go after you came back a little.”

“Sure.” My steps feel awkward as I move towards the door, and climbing into Hoppy is even worse. Regardless, I retrieve my toolbox and open it up.

“Just buy time.” I remind myself. “Something simple that I can’t fuck up. Something I’ve done a hundred times.”

Screw it, armor check. Every single piece.

I begin to remove bolts, closely inspecting each and every one, tracing every thread. When a piece of armor comes free, I do the same, inspecting each and every inch for any crack or imperfection. It burns an awful lot of time.

Half a heartbeat later an announcement pulls me out of a trance.

“Docking complete.” Andromeda announces.

I glance over my shoulder just as the door to the cockpit opens. Everyone comes thorough. I don’t know if I prefer the ones who are trying to give me a reassuring smile, or Graff, who’s ignoring me completely. Probably him, actually, I don’t need their pity.

I only made it through three pieces of armor. It takes only a minute to get them bolted back on and to climb back into the cockpit. At least the startup sequence is familiar, I actually feel normal as I flip the switches. I wait until Graff backs out of his bay before walking out, and into warm storage.

Exa is waiting for me when I climb out.

“You look more you.”

“I don’t feel as weird. Andromeda, can you bring me clothes?”

“Order confirmed.”

“I’ll see you in the living room.” Exa joins everyone else heading deeper into the ship. I, on the other hand, head back to the drop ship. That power shower is calling my name.

I step into the metal tube, strip, toss my clothes out, and take my stance. Days of grime and sweat are blasted off of me in an instant. I don’t feel clean though, not like every other time I’ve used this thing.

“Hit me again.” I say, and Andromeda does so instantly. I don’t feel any closer to clean the second time. “Whatever.” I reach for the hidden compartment and grab a robe.

The door slides open and clothes are already waiting for me. Dad’s overalls. I pull on my clothes and head for the living room.

Juno, Graff, and Xenia are in the kitchen, sharing a drink. I didn’t even know an AI could drink. Elara’s not with Juno though, in fact, she’s not in the room? I’m not sure I’ve ever really seen them apart. Exa is lounging across the couch, her head resting on the back, watching me enter. Janus, on the other hand, is just sitting in a chair and staring vaguely at the wall.

I walk over to him.

“You look worse than I do.” I joke.

He jumps at my voice and turns around.

“Oh, sorry, I was elsewhere. Earth is… unintentionally intense. Elara is taking half the load, and I’m still taxed near my limits.”

“You’re talking to them?”

“Her, just one AI. We’re discussing my discoveries.” He answers. “And also, for the record, she’s unhappy about risking the miners with the collapse, but evacuations will be underway shortly. A small force is set to arrive a few hours from now.”

“Right. I’m guessing you can’t share anything.”

“I haven’t yet broached the subject. Sorry, I need to focus.”

“Sorry, I’ll let you get back to it.”

Janus nods, and his eyes slightly unfocus, although he remains in the exact same position. It’s a little creepy.

I glance over my shoulder, and Graff uses that opportunity to lift up a beer at me.

“You drink?” He calls.

“No.” I make my way over regardless.

He shrugs and opens it for himself.

“You’ve got your father’s blood in you.” He continues.

“What does that even mean?”

“Miller was reliable.” Static runs beneath Xenia’s voice. “When things got rough, that’s when he was at his best. It was the occasional quiet missions that got to him. Always said he’d rather someone was shooting at him, since at least he could shoot back.”

“How often are missions like that?” I ask.

“Pretty often.” Juno shrugs. “That a problem?”

“Why do you do this?” I gesture vaguely around us.

“Having doubts?”

“No.” I say quickly. “I feel like my body should be telling me to go home. I don’t know why it’s not.”

Juno nods before answering. “Someone’s got to keep you fuckers alive. God knows you won’t do it yourself.”

“I’ll stay alive.” I insist.

“Yeah, long as I’m here.” She laughs and gestures to Graff.

“Anywhere else’d make me be someone else.” He shrugs. “I’ve worn enough masks.”

Before I can ask anything, Xenia speaks up.

“And I’ve stagnated. I’ll likely stay this way until Graff’s death, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“When an AI settles into too deep a routine, it’s hard to get out.” She answers. “It’s comfortable, easy. And we like comfortable.”

“So you’re just stuck?” I glance over my shoulder at the couch, at Exa. “Is that why you’re still here?”

“I’m here for the same reason as Juno.” She calls back. “I’m gone when you are.”

“Sorry.”

She waves me off, and I turn back to Juno.

“What about Elara? Or Janus?”

“Elara is surgically implanted at the base of my skull.” She answers. “Whatever we do, we do it together. As for Janus, I’m not sure. 2248 almost certainly stagnated, but I couldn’t tell you if that’s still the case after they melded. I think it’s more comfort. Hybrids are rare, having somewhere he fits in? That’s hard to find. You’d have to ask him for an actual answer though. Is your answer still the same?”

“Yeah. I have to follow Dad.” There’s no doubt in my voice, there’s no other option. “Why did he do what he did?”

“He always said he was wired up all wrong.”

“Mom said the same thing.” I nod. “Guess I am too.”

“Don’t think you’ll find many pilots who aren’t.”

“This job attracts weirdos.” Graff agrees. “Don’t think I’d trust you if you weren’t.”

“I guess that’s reassuring.” I bet he didn’t know the answer either. “What’s the plan now?”

“Depends. Either way we’re heading out, this system is too hot to stay. You going home?” Juno asks.

“No.”

“Then we head core-side down the spur. Follow the Kepler systems towards Mnemosyne space. We’re going to have a lot of sway there soon. Earth agreed to pass our names along about what happened here today. That’s an in with the whole species.”

“Didn’t you say they’re a year away?”

“To their core systems. The border worlds are only a few months, and that’s where you find work. So get comfortable. Take a day or two and then we get back to training.”

“We can start now.” I insist. “I’m ready.”

“Janus is busy.” She looks over to him. “Unless… you ever shot a gun?”

“No.”

“I haven’t drank that much. Andromeda! Set up a range.”

“Order confirmed.”

“Come on, Kid.” She heads for the warehouse, and I follow close behind. “You’re going to need one of these. It’s rare you need to use it, but you will eventually.”

We step into the warehouse and find Andromeda already hard at work. One body is setting up a table, and two more are placing targets around. How many bodies does she have in this ship? At the far end of the warehouse, a plate extends, sealing off the dropship.

“We use projectiles here.” She walks up to the table, pulls a pistol out of her waistband, and sets it down. Andromeda waits close beside her. “You’re going to find a lot of companies claiming lasers or flechettes are the future, and they were until tech caught up. Portable shield generators are more common by the day, and the easiest solution to those is simple mass. Vaporizing a few molecules is easy, a few ounces of lead? The IR flare alone will burn them alive. How much do you know about guns?”

“Just what I’ve read in books. Mom and I found one, but I never shot it.”

“Good. I hate breaking habits." She launches into a flood of information, just like when she went through my contract. Every part of the gun, how it works, how to use it, and above all else, how to use it safely. I’m stuck listening to her for two hours before she even lets me pick it up. “Alright, take it into your hands.”

I pick it up, surprised by the weight. I keep my finger off the trigger, the barrel downrange, and ensure the safety is on.

“Good. Aim, keep both eyes open.” I do so, pointing at the nearest target. “Safety off. Squeeze, don’t pull.”

I’m not entirely sure what that last one means, but I follow her orders. I flip the safety switch, and pull the trigger. The gun barely reacts, and the only sound is a dull pop, and the back wall ringing. My target stands, still in perfect condition.

“Did something go wrong?” I ask.

“Yeah, you missed.”

“No, I mean with the gun. The one Mom used was loud.”

“It was probably ancient then. Mine has an internal silencer and advanced recoil compensation. Some pilots swear by the simplicity of 21st century guns, and I can’t say their reliability isn’t impressive. The flexibility of near-total silence is too vital to give up, however.”

“Ok, so what did I do wrong?”

“A lot. You pulled, you flinched before firing, your stance was wrong, your aim was off in the first place, not to mention the drift. Focus, go slow.”

I try again, pulling the trigger four times. Exactly one bullet rips a hole through the edge of the target.

“Again.”

I keep firing until the gun lets out a click. Juno pulls out an extra magazine and sets it on the table.

“This is a lot easier in a mech.” I eject the magazine, slide in a new one, and pull the slide.

“Better than the alternative.”

“That’s true.”

I shoot the day away, barely improving no matter how much advice Juno gives me. Only after firing thousands of bullets does she take back her gun and leave me with one last piece of advice.

“Stick to your mech, and get some sleep.”