Carl had us lined up in the hangar, leaning against his mech’s leg, sipping from a bottle of whiskey. Or at least I hoped it was whiskey.
“Alright, Hawk Squad,” he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “We got orders today. And as we all know, if we fail this one, we end up in body bags.”
No one laughed.
“Intel says there’s a new threat,” Carl continued. “Slayer Dragons clan. They’re sniffing around this shithole planet the same as we are. Rumor says they’re dropping into Death Plains Desert to set up camp. Our job is to confirm it. If we see drop ships coming down, we spoil their plans and halt any landings. Once it’s confirmed, backup comes in. Until then, it’s just rumors.”
I sighed and raised a hand halfway. “So… where exactly did this intel come from? And who the hell are the Slayer Dragons?”
Tamala answered without looking at me. “Raider clan. They strip planets for materials. If you think we’re bad, they kill everything. People. Animals. Pets.”
Crazy shifted on my shoulder, clucking softly.
“So they do the same thing you guys do?” I asked.
Lexi leaned forward, elbows on her knees. “Not really. We conquer. Take land. Hold it. They raid and leave. No interest in territory. That’s why they’re called raiders. We get labeled pirates.”
“I see,” I said, stretching my arms behind my head. “Sounds lame.”
“Lame or not, load up,” Carl said, hiccupping as he finished the bottle. “Mission’s a go.”
Frank frowned. “Wait. Now?”
“Yes. Now,” Carl snapped. “You got a hot date or something?”
I shook my head. “You know our lives rest on your leadership, right? You think you should be drinking—”
Carl turned slowly. Stared at me. Pulled a knife from his belt and let it catch the light.
“Watch your tongue, boy,” he said flatly. “Or I’ll cut it out.”
I raised both hands. “Message received.”
I scooped up Crazy. “You wanna come, bud?”
No one said a word as we walked toward the docks. Dead quiet. Everyone knew what happened to squads that failed around here.
I clipped into the zip line and rode up into my cockpit. Crazy tucked against my chest. I exhaled slowly.
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“Power on, Light.”
Systems flared to life.
This was my first drop from a pirate space station. First real plunge like this. I marched my mech toward the drop pod. It looked like a massive metal raindrop, heat scars baked into its shell.
“You gotta kneel, Ace,” Carl said over comms.
“Oh. Thanks. First time.”
I knelt. The pod sealed shut around me. Everything turned red as a countdown started.
Welp. Here we go.
The floor dropped out.
We were fired from the station like a bullet.
Crazy screamed.
I screamed too, just not out loud.
We punched through Lutara’s atmosphere. My home. The shaking was violent, teeth-rattling, until suddenly it stopped. Weightlessness hit. My stomach flipped. Then gravity grabbed us hard.
Jets fired. The pod shuddered again.
WHAM.
Impact.
The doors burst open like petals, and there I was, kneeling in the sand like some damn hero statue.
Night vision kicked in. Stars overhead. Two pink moons hanging low.
“Landing successful,” Light said calmly. “Temperature eighty-eight degrees. Wind five miles per hour. Clear skies. Time zero two hundred.”
“Thanks for the update,” I muttered.
“Connection to HQ remains active,” Light added. “Signal weak. Recommend high ground.”
“Mountains blocking the signal?” I asked.
“Yes. Terrain interference.”
“Noted. Might want HQ to know about the Slayer Dragons.”
My comms crackled. “Everyone good?” Carl asked.
One by one, acknowledgments came in.
“Guess we camp,” Carl said. “Could be days. Weeks.”
“Great,” Lexi muttered.
Carl popped his cockpit and slid down. The others followed. I opened mine as well. The cool night air finally reached me.
“I’ll take first watch,” I called.
“Get your ass down here. That’s an order,” Carl barked.
I sighed, unclipped, grabbed Crazy, and zipped down.
Carl opened a compartment in his mech’s foot and pulled out tent bags.
“Did your mech just have a trunk?” I asked.
“Yep.”
“That’s actually kinda cool.”
He tossed me a tent. “Make your new home.”
We set camp. Fire going. Temperature dropped fast once the suns were gone. Frank broke the silence.
“Old man, you got more of that stuff?”
Carl passed the flask around. When it reached me, I waved it off.
“Build trust,” Lexi said, shoving it back toward me. “Drink.”
“Drink! Drink!” they barked together.
“Fine,” I sighed, taking a small sip.
“What was that?” Lexi laughed. “Girly sip.”
I took a longer pull this time and handed it back. “Happy?”
She smiled. “Much.”
My stomach growled.
“We could eat the chicken,” Tamala said casually.
I pulled my blaster halfway out. “Say that again.”
They laughed. I holstered it.
Carl tossed cans into the fire. Beans. Corn. Green beans. Sweet peas.
“So,” Frank said, staring at me, “why’d you leave your people to join your daddy?”
I didn’t hesitate. “He’s my dad. I don’t want to kill my dad. And it looks like this war’s lost anyway. Good time to switch sides.”
No one responded.
The beans hissed softly in the fire. I pulled my can free, set it in the sand, and waited for it to cool. The smell reminded me of field nights with Coyote Squad. Same food. Different people. Felt wrong.
“Look,” I said quietly, “I’m not here to make friends. I’m here because Vincent told me to be. That’s it.”
Frank stood. “I don’t like you. You need an ass beating.”
I picked up Crazy and my beans. “Fun talk. I’m getting some rest.”
I zipped back into my cockpit, settled into the seat, and finally ate. The beans were bland. Warm. Familiar. I eat, slow, methodical, like it mattered.
I fed Crazy the last of it and wiped my hands on my pants.
I leaned back and stared at the stars through the canopy.
I missed my squad.
They were my real family.
“Hate this,” I said quietly, more tired than angry.
Crazy shifted against me, warm and alive.
I closed my eyes and let the desert night take me.
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