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After waiting for Kato to get caught up in training his defence, he snuck out of the range and out toward the armoury, after eventually getting to the armoury, he opened the door, too see Mackie and Annag, before anyone could say anything, he asked Mackie a question. “Hey, Mackie, can I talk to you in private?”

Several minutes passed.

For Mackie, those minutes were relatively normal ones. She tinkered with the little dart gun in the vice on her bench. Without looking, she leaned over until she was dangerously close to tipping, to grab a can of soda. For a while, she strapped a pair of high-res tinkerer’s goggles on to more closely examine the weapon, still not taking her sunglasses off and instead letting them remain perched on the end of her nose. The song on the barely-audible stereo in the walls changed, and she began humming quietly along. Eventually she leaned back in her chair, looked down with a thoughtful frown at the dart gun for several long moments, then spoke for the first time since sitting down - likely more to herself than to her weird little guest, preempting it with an indecisive hum.

”HmmmmOn second thought I don’t think this’ll work. I’ll think of something else. Like, they gotta’ have some kind of super rad feature but I’m pretty sure this thing would like, totally jam up in a minute…”

It was right about then that Corporal Firth poked his head into the armoury. Disturbingly, despite the fact that she was facing away from the door, she still apparently recognized who it was even before the man spoke. ”Robbieee.” She greeted with a grin, only then spinning around, and hopping to her feet. ”Yeah totally bruh.” She said, sauntering over to the gate and…out of the armoury?

Sure enough, rather than kicking Annag out, the weird gunsmith walked over to the huge man, then nodded toward the hallway.

She was going to leave Annag alone in a room packed full of live firearms.

As they exited to the hall, the door sliding shut behind them, she could be heard saying ”What is up my man?” as if having been asked to speak in private implied a normal conversation, rather than something to be take seriously.

And then, the armoury was quiet again, except for the faint guitar solo, followed by a soft, throaty voice singing about lemons or something. For some five or six minutes, that was it.

And then, from outside the door - voices. One voice, at first. It had to be fairly loud to get through the thick steel of the old door, even slightly tough to make out as it was. It sounded male, though what he was actually saying was too muffled to decipher.

Then the door - which was situated down a short corridor, could be heard opening and instantly the voices were much clearer.

”She’s in here right?” A man’s voice indeed - an old man, his voice sandpaper and gravel. ”Yup. She like, doesn’t like me very much.””

”Who the @#$% doesn’t like you?” Every word was harsh and almost angry sounding. His accent was not excessively strong, but resembled the New York, Italian Mafioso pluck of some kind of guido. He made it sound both as if Mackie were an idiot for making that observation, and Annag an idiot for not liking the gunsmith. Or, if not idiots, he was fed up with their bull@#$% and didn’t believe a word of it. Mackie responded with a neutral sound, implying she was not offended in the least. The next voice was almost the polar opposite. It was smooth, silky and elegant, just a little husky, and with a gently chiding tone that somehow implied a very high potential for a very short temper.

”You’s bein’ nice again, weren’t you?” ”Uh, yeah?” Mackie replied, ”I like her. She’s like, a sweet kid. She just doesn’t realize it.” The silky-voiced one replied to that, but whatever she’d said was lost when the old man stepped around the corner and immediately barked out a deeply disapproving ”Oh, what the @#$%?” And just in case it was not blatantly obvious who he was disapproving of, he held a mechanical arm out, palm up, indicating the crouching Annag. The woman followed around the corner right away, and it was safe to say they were an unusual pair. Yet they did share their similarities, albeit in different flavours.



They both looked to be in their late sixties.
The man, skin a leathery caucasian, wore a shock of silvery white hair that implied only a cursory effort to slick it back. His eyes were covered by a pair of leather goggles with black, circular lenses and a number of glowing protrusions which likely served as different means of ocular input. A brilliant, dark red feather was stuck under the band. He wore an old, black leather biker jacket and faded jeans over the standard, Fed-issue combat boots.

The woman’s hair was similarly shocked backwards, though longer, and tied back in a rather violent ponytail. Her skin was a dark, ashy black and spotted with freckles a shade darker still. Her eyes were covered too, but with a more sleek, modern pair of glasses, the iridescent blue and lavender lenses of which glowed softly. Her jacket was a leather motorcycle jacket as well, though of a different style. Her pants and boots were the same.

Their most obvious similarity was their matching, cybernetic left arms. They were non-combat models and of an older, almost ‘retro’ design, but the silence and smoothness of their movements suggested that plenty of internal upgrades were present. The middle section of each ring finger appeared to be made of gold. Through tears in their jeans, it could be deciphered that their left legs, too, were cybernetic.

The woman came around the corner already speaking - then, upon seeing Annag, she immediately turned around and changed the topic without so much of a pause. Her accent was that of the old, southern gentry - it would have conjured images of Louisiana, steamboats and Cajun nights.

”Oh now Jack don’t’chu be- Aw hail Mackie what in the name’a samhill did you do to this po’ child!” She said, whirling back around to chide the gunsmith through the still open door. ”Like I said yo, she can’t, like, comprehend people being nice. It’s not her fault.” Mackie replied, her voice suggesting a placid shrug.

”What- what? What’a you, @#$%in’ stupid?” The man - Jack - snapped incredulously at Annag. It didn’t sound so much as if he were angry at her, just very harsh and grating. It was a manner of speaking Annag was all too familiar with even if the accent was different. He shook his head, stopping Annag from any potential reply she might have tried. ”Uh uh. Nah. You’re gonna’ have’ta explain to me very carefully why Mackie, of all people, has got you lookin’ like some kinda’ cornered animal before I even think about givin’ you a pair’a sockers that can turn a man’s head into a fine paste.”

The woman - this must have been the ’Robyn’ that the gunsmith had mentioned earlier - turned back around and smacked Jack lightly on the upper arm with the back of a hand. ”She don’t mean nothin’ by it Jack, try’ta go easy on the girl-”

It was starting to seem as though the old woman was, as her voice suggested, a soft and gentle contrast to the man who was obviously her husband - but when she looked back to Annag such theories were dashed. Her voice was no less silky, but the words faster and somehow stronger than before. The epitome of every tough old grandma who ‘don’t take no lip’.

”But the man’s got a point Annag honey you look like a ripe fool right now there is a chair right next ta’ you. You gonna’ needa’ explain real good exactly what is goin’ through yo’ head right now shugga’ unless you wanna’ git stuck with them twiggylimbs fo’ good.”

“Well, hello Robyn, Jack.” He didn’t turn too face them, as they went into the armoury he waited until they were busy with Annag, and explained the sense of urgency, “I came here to ask you if you can put an override into her arms, as the truth is, we don’t know what type of other cybernetics she has, and if they have some sort of hypnosis...thing in her. It isn’t a kill-switch, just something to keep the metal arms down, on the off chance that she goes rogue,I also need you to keep this from Kato, he’s got enough on his plate, alright?”

She didn't bother watching Mackie in the slightest, it wasn't that she wasn't interested in a gunsmith or whatever that woman described herself as at work, she decidedly was. It was more out of sheer bloody-minded stubbornness that she refused to watch this person, so convinced of their duplicitous nature that any seeming interest given of her own volition would be displaying a sign that she was being suckered into whatever trap had been laid for her.

It took a lot of effort but she managed it, that deliberate state of very consciously listening and watching out for someone while simultaneously doing your utter best to look as if you were interested in almost anything else, achieved by, for the most part, very dedicated fiddling with the small detached arm in vain attempts to reconnect it. She didn't look up at all, not even when Mackie began musing out loud about the dart shooter. Even that only served to confuse her even more, she'd have gotten not including it because it was being given to a dangerous new entity, namely herself, but to not include it because it wasn't going to be efficient enough?

What was wrong with this woman?

Another voice called out, one she recognised, but couldn't remember a face or name to attach the sound, it would only be a peak, but a peak was all they needed to think they'd got her. She wasn't going to give them any signs of weakness, she was good at that.

The instant the door closed she moved, or more rather scuttled, still practically hunched over towards the now abandoned dart thrower, still moving so that at any second if someone walked in she could scuttle far enough away to pretend that she'd been doing nothing. Gingerly she'd prod it a few times before examining it closely. Had the mad-woman who owned this armoury seriously been installing these things into whatever arms were being given to her?

There really must be something else going on here, no one is that blindly nice and trusting.

At the merest hint of a new voice or set of voices, she quickly flashed back into her original position, squatting there in a slightly sheepish huddle. This whole place felt oppressive, a lair full of invisible lies strung up all over the place, ready to ensnare her in a moments notice if she let down her guard for even a second.

By the second time the old man had spoken, before even catching a glimpse of him, Annag had distinctly decided she wasn't trusting this person, whoever they were either. It was clear from the way they'd talked that he and whoever else was with him was in league with that liar and she wasn't going to get taken in, just because they'd changed the face of the person telling them.

The only change really that could be seen since Mackie had left the room was the fact that the young fighter had backed herself even further into a corner, in times like this she always felt better having a solid surface behind her, even in a place like this.

What the frack is going on with this ship?

It had all seemed so normal, the distain from the rest of the crew, the resigned pity, turned regret of Kato the man to whom attempted genocide was simply another weekend, then she'd arrived at this armoury. In this short space of time she'd run into a whacked out armourer who was very certaintly trying to pull some sort of trick and now these two looked nothing like the weapons specialists she'd been expecting.

It was just about when the man snapped at her that something in Annag changed, the look in her eyes shifting from that of a cornered and wounded beast desperately searching for a way out into a cornered beast ready and willing to fight back. She didn't know what was going on, why everything was turning out the way it was, but it was distinctly spiralling out of her control and there was only one real way she knew how to fix that.

She fought back.

Even then she still curled the little remaining metal hand into a small fist, not that it could have done anything, simply to gesture that if she had to, even there she'd defend herself. "WHAT THE FRACK IS WRONG WITH THIS PLACE? Are you seriously smegging angry at Me??!! For not trusting someone being way too naively nice for the armourer of a warship? I'm a fracking prisoner on this ship, my life is only being spared because Kato ordered it!"

She paused for a quick breath, little emerald eyes sparkling with defiance and fury. "No one is that nice without wanting something from it! In fact, I've never met anyone that "nice" who hasn't tried to use me! All of this place if Fracking upside down and if you expect me to just sit there and allow myself to be taken in by some drugged up soldier attempting to 'befriend' the new kid while they have no one to turn to, so that later they can become a quite useful tool, a good weapon to throw at different opponents you can SMEG OFF!"

Something changed in the old man as Annag spat back her retaliation. Even obscured as they were, the man’s eyes seemed to grow cold as his scowl became downright disdainful.

And, perhaps even more disturbingly, something changed in the woman, too - an easy calm seemed to descend over her. She stepped back, leaning casually against the wall and blocking off the hallway as the man stepped purposefully closer. As he passed through the fence separating the armoury proper from the rest of the room, he slammed the gate closed.

”I ain’t angry at you for being distrusting.” The old man spat, halting briefly in front of the now closed gate, hooking his thumbs into his jacket pockets, then proceeding at a slower pace. ”I’m angry at you for acting like a @#$%ing child. This-” He gestured at her again with an open, mechanical palm, ”This is @#$%ing pathetic. Kato told me he was giving me a soldier, but all I see is a @#$%ing idiot child who’s too busy whining to be of any @#$%ing use to anyone.”

He didn’t halt his approach. If she moved, he would change direction, or stand in place if she decided to skirt the edge of the room. Or, if she stood her ground, he would walk right up to her, standing with the easy confidence of a made-man or squatting down to be at eye level.

”What, you got a problem bein’ used? You think we’re keepin’ your sorry ass around here outta’ charity? You think just because you @#$%ed up your old mission you ain’t gotta’ be no use no more, huh? Is’at it?”

As he went on, something very deep and vague seemed to shift in his accent - but it was likely not at the forefront of recognition, even if the shift might have been in a direction that Annag, in particular, would find distasteful...

”You ain’t a prisoner up here. You can leave any time you want. Just say the word kiddo an’ I’ll toss you right out a @#$%in’ airlock.” He growled, and either he was a brilliant actor - or damned serious.

”You don’t wanna’ be treated like a human bein’? Fine. Ya’ sure ain’t actin’ like one. But you don’t wanna’ be a tool, neither, is’at it? So what do ya’ wanna’ be, huh? Kato’s useless @#$%in’ lap dog? Or maybe you wanna’ actually be a soldier, instead of a two bit thug like you was when you got on this boat?”

If she looked close enough, Annag would be able to see where he had locked the gate as he’d entered. His wife was blocking the hall. All at once the pair were starting to look like a duo of old thugs - with one willing to look the other way while the other did the unspeakable. From the hall, Robyn turned, said something quietly to someone behind her, then returned her attention to the girl and her husband with arms folded.
”You listen’a me kid and you listen good, ‘cause I’mma’ only say this once.” If at any point from there out she tried to pull away, back off, or space forbid lunge at him, the old man would shoot out his mechanical arm with disturbing speed, grabbing her by the shirt, or neck, or hair - whatever fit - and holding her there in a vice grip. For all the retro styling, that arm was no joke.

”You got two choices here. One-” He flicked up one gnarled finger, pointing at the ceiling ”I put a crater where your nose was, throw you in an airlock an’ give you the traitor’s execution you deserve after pullin’ a stunt that shoulda’ gotten your pathetic ass gunned down on the spot.”

That was an interesting phrase, ’traitor’s exection’. While not necessarily a M’Draani-Mortugan term, it was definitely one which the girl would find all too familiar. In general, it meant a very long, drawn out, agonizing death. The sort of death on suffered at the hands of their so-called friends in front of a cheering crowd.
”Kato won’t be happy, but I’ll deal with him once you ain’t got no eyes left in your @#$%in’ skull. Or, two-” the second finger went up, ”You grow the @#$% up, stop actin’ like a @#$%ing feral animal, and return the respect you’re given. Because @#$% knows you don’t deserve it. Quit bitchin’, act like a soldier an’ become a part of this crew. Because either you’re workin’ with us an’ givin’ us a reason t’keep you ‘round, or I’m puttin’ you’s brains on th’outside’like. Y’dig?”

Only then did the woman speak up - her voice cold and silky as ever, and matter-of-fact in a way that was almost disturbing. ”Honey we ain’t gonna waste time an’ effort tryin’a trick you inna’ anythin’ when it’d be ten times easier fo’ me ta’ look th’otha’ way while my man beats yo’ brains in. You ain’t worth manipulatin’, shuga’, you unda’stand that? We got betta’ things ta’ do than try’ta psych out some thick-skulled punk who don’t seem ta’ realize she ain’t in no pits no mo’.”

The pits-

In their way, the two of them made an almost sickening tag team - because Jack wasn’t giving Annag a chance to reply at any turn. Even now, if she tried to speak, he would cut her off - and grab her if that didn’t work. ”What’s it gonna’ be kid? Quit the ‘everybody’s-out-’ta-get-me’ bull@#$% and act like the soldier you was trained t’be, or @#$% off an’ get spaced with the rest’a th’trash. You got five seconds.”

---

Watching Jack and Robyn slip into the armoury, Mackie was wringing her hands nervously even as her voice sounded the usual calm and placid. Her conversation with Firth had been momentarily delayed, the woman listening as Jack began to tear the girl a new one, hearing the metallic clank of the gate shutting, watching as Robyn leaned against the wall so that she was blocking the only means of entrance...And exit.

”Robyn, she-” the gunsmith began, but Robyn turned and, in a tone too soft and low for the young warrior to hear, said ”I won’t let nothin’ happen. Don’tchu worry yo’self hon.”

Mackie, looking hesitant but convinced, ran a hand through her thick hair and turned away. ”Yeah- yeah, I know. I just-” ”You just want the girl to be okay. I know, Macks. And she will, I promise.” Robyn finished for her, and with a reassuring smile that seemed to, if not put the gunsmith at ease, at least sate her for the moment. Mackie nodded, clearly trying to control her distress at the whole ordeal. She didn’t like not being able to help - didn’t like for someone who needed love so badly to be talked to like scum-

But Mackie knew Jack. Everyone did. And while the old couple had not always been on the easiest or best of terms with the ship’s repentant captain, their hearts had always proven to be in the right places. Their initial hire-on had been sketchy to begin with, both of them having extensive criminal records - but they had rapidly proven to be masterful pilots and always taken the stand when the need arose. They had always been a bit aloof and noncommittal - but they were good. Tough and hard. Jack was known to have an explosive temper - but good.

He was also known to have a deeply paternal affection for Mackie, and did not take kindly to anyone who disrespected her in any capacity. It was a point of contention between them - but everything had always worked out before, and so everything would work out going forward.

Licking her lips, Mackie nodded down the hallway, indicating for Firth to walk with her. She didn’t want to listen to whatever Jack felt he needed to say to rectify the situation and set the kid straight. She didn’t doubt he could do it - but it was a painful thing to watch nonetheless.

It was days like these that Macks wondered if she was really cut out for all this.

”Yeah. I...already talked to them about it.” she said, once they were enough of a distance from the armoury so as to not hear Jack’s harsh words. Though she did seem to be having a bit of trouble focusing - and the crew knew her more than well enough to know it wasn’t any drug that was causing it. ”A...inhibitor sort of deal. Engine brake. Reduced power output that’ll feel like a routine malfunction instead of a straitjacket.”

She decided not to mention that she had already been planning to keep a close eye on the angry young warrior, and to be the only one with the ability to trigger the safeguard. In part because she was considering handing over that responsibility to the Vox couple. Even though it felt wrong - like abandoning someone who needed a person looking out for them.

A moment of silence passed over the two, as they walked. It was obvious what was on the young woman’s mind. The ’stressed out’ look really didn’t suit the typically laid-back, aloof hippie chick. But even she couldn’t be immune to the effects of the recent - and upcoming - events.

”She’s just - she’s hurt and she’s scared and I can’t-” She blurted suddenly, stopping and leaning her back against a wall, folding her arms and looking down at the toes of her combat boots peeking out beneath baggy, whitewashed denim. A thin film of smoky air wafted up around her head. She rubbed at her eyes. ”Ah, @#$% Robbie. I’ll be glad as hell when this mess is over.”

Robert sighed, he wasn’t the right person to help with Annag, “Me too, Mackie, me too. Well, she’ll won’t really, fit in. But if we have any sense of a clue, we’ll get her out of her shell. Now I have to get back to training, we can talk later.” As he finished he started to head back, with a somber look, he Mumbled something to himself, “if I don’t die that is.”

In a strange and twisted way, she felt at home, this was what she was used to, this knowledge that she was worthless and that those around her saw her as such, that constant ever-present reminder of such. Yet the little emerald eyes remained as hard and defiant, that spark of anger burning away, it paid she found to never show any weakness, she couldn't, if you did in the pits then you no longer had any worth and this, here and now was the pits for her.

The guns helped with that, lining the walls, different to the swarming mass which covered the walls of the pits, thrown over as if whoever had been ordered to place them was trying to hide the surface beneath and considering what she'd glimpsed ot it in those odd cracks that were just too awkward for anything to be placed, she rather suspected that to be true. The smoke too felt more natural now, it wasn't the haze of a too nice to be true hippie armourer, it was the faint smoggy air that pervaded the pits, out of a sheer apathy to those within to be bothered cleaning.

She'd dealt with people like this before, situations where those with the power to delete her from existance with a simple movement of their hands, a couple of words and everything she was or had ever been was gone. It was those people she'd been living to defy, making each breath she took be an insult to their very existance if there was something she was prepared to do it was live to spite them.

In a slight way Annag didn't even pick out his features, not anymore, the face had long since ceased to matter, it was an ever-shifting blur, one-second male, the other female.

Yet when living no longer became defiant, if death became the more defiant she knew she'd take it when the time came, just like Reina had. She'd long wondered what had been going through the other girls head as she deliberately sabotaged her own arm then pulled the pin, now in many ways she understood.

She was a second away before throwing what would be at best a completely innefectual punch and at worst one that wouldn't even reach. Then she remembered two faces and paused, remembering the words that both of them had spoken to her the last time that both time had spoken to her. Both urging in their own ways for her to continue living, what a life though.

What did she want?

Her eyes never broke contact with his, little pricks of defiance that would not, could not be cowed, she'd been so close to death before so many times that situations like this had long since ceased to create a sense of fear. Yet she couldn't shake that question, the one that bounced itself around her skull insessantly, forcing itself there even when she tried to turn away.

In many ways the answer was fustratingly simple, she wanted to choose her own path, to find something to protect and defend it with her life. Yet the path to that answer was twisted and filled with turns that seemed to lead somewhere, just round that corner yet when you've gotten closer it turns out it leads to a dead end. She knew that deep down inside her she didn't mind being a tool for someone to throw at a foe, yet she'd been there before under someone else's choice if she wanted to be a soldier, a weapon she wanted it to be because she'd chosen to become that tool. What she wanted most was time, the space to sit back and choose, yet here she was seemingly without choice.

"Neither, I ain't-a soldier, I ain't dying either." She spoke with the calm certainty of one who even if beaten to a pulp and space will keep clinging to that impossible thread of life." Gimme some arms fit for heavy manual work, I ain't fighting ya battles, they're not mine to fight. If I become your soldier, you're weapon, I'mma do that under my own choice. I'll work for ya, as a crew, not ya tool."

For a long time, the old man just scowled at the young warrior - though with his eyes obscured as they were, the expression might have begun taking a thoughtful overtone as the long seconds slid by. Too, the goggles might have given a sense of infallibility to a weaker spirit than the one that now glared up at him through piercing emeralds. To anyone else, it would have been nigh impossible to really look into that man’s eyes. But not for her.

She was defiance.

Slowly, the old man’s scowl shifted to a long, low grin. He coughed lightly, then let the sound turn into a gutteral chuckle. He hung his head briefly, shook it as if in negation of some abstract thought. It did not seem like a mocking laugh, nor even a particularly knowing one. He wasn’t giving the impression that she had somehow fallen into some trap - because she hadn’t. It wasn’t derisive or condescending. In fact, the only implication it could really be linked to was some kind of weird, obscure fondness, and that didn’t add up at all.

”Well then.” He grunted, merging the words into a little sound of exertion as he returned to a standing position. With his organnic right hand, he reached out and tousled the girl’s muddy hair before she could stop him, simultaneously using her as leverage to stand up straight again. It was rougher than when Kato had done something similar not too long before.

”Welcome to the crew.”

He was still grinning as he spoke the words, but both his tone and expression were unreadable. Indeed, there was laughter in the voice - but of what variety was impossible to pinpoint. Turning, Jack made for the gate with an easy ‘come along’ gesture. ”Come on. Let’s get ya’ fitted with some loaders.”

It was difficult to say whether the air of hostility had dropped away from the old couple as they led Annag to the mechbay, and likely it would be a matter of interpretation...But the old pair had exchanged a look as they left the armoury.

’Yep. This one’s a keeper.’

It was only later, after Annag had been outfitted, that Jack would speak up again in a meaningful fashion. The arms were a sturdy, if slightly outdated pair of ‘loaders’, designed for heavy manual labour. Non-combat models, they made up for what they lacked in speed and dexterity with an impressive strength potential. Built-in hydraulic pistons allowed for extreme sums of pressure to be applied over long periods of time, but at the cost of a sluggish operating speed. Still, the old couple had been careful to make sure they were in optimum operating condition, even oiling them up, before fitting, adjusting, and refitting them into the girl’s sockets. The process ended up taking longer than one may have expected, but it was clearly due to a desire to be thorough rather than any kind of slacking. If Annag expressed any impatience, she would be met with gruff grumbles about doing it right or not doing it at all. Neither commented on the scars about her shoulders.

When they were finished, Annag would find that the extra effort they had put into the weighting and adjustments paid off spectacularly. Despite the less than ideal build, their movement was exceptionally smooth and natural. The old coots knew their stuff. They had even tweaked the inner slack adjusters - a little-known trick that was almost entirely exclusive to the highest classed Mortugan engineers.

”There.” Jack said with finality, patting his palms together as if dusting them off. ”That should do ya’ good enough fer’ now.” Hooking fingers into jacket pockets, he and Robyn made to leave. ”Nah’ y’all got free run of the ship. Go see one’a the staff sergeants an’ they’ll give ‘ya somethin’a occupy yo’ time.”

”And when ya’ get sick’a wastin’ ya’ time on menial @#$%, come see me. Those shiny new combat rigs? All yours.” Jack nodded toward a hefty black case, leaning up against a wall. Looking back to the girl, his grin widened, turning toothy. ”But you’ll have’ta fight me for ‘em. Deal?”

---

The problem with being the one everyone came to, Mackie had long since learned, was that it meant she, in turn, had nowhere to go when she needed an ear, or shoulder. It was depressing, though she had mostly come to terms with that.Besides, it was so rare for her to be in anything but a contentedly mellow state of mind that she had never really needed anyone to talk to at all. Not for her own sake. All the things really worth talking about had been long ago left behind.

Had she become complacent? Too accustomed to the peaceful lifestyle she’d had the opportunity to live aboard the mighty Last Light, sequestered away, far from the world below and all its violence and conflict?

She had talked to a lot of cadets over the years. Remembered every face, every name. Remembered everything since first boarding the old boat, becoming one of the most enigmatic members of her strange and varied crew. She liked to think she had made a difference in at least some lives. She had never any expectations of being a positive influence in every life she encountered. But this angry young warrior just stuck out. The girl needed someone. Someone.

The whole situation was too much. Mackie hated it. Why couldn’t people just leave well enough alone? And why now, after so many years free of conflict?

It didn’t matter. Only one thing did matter, really - keeping the Light’s doomsday weapons out of the wrong hands. Seeing to it that what little remained of humanity didn’t vanish in an instant due to the petty political machinations of some insignificant faction. Or due to anyone, or anything, for that matter. Why was it so hard for people to understand that life is precious?

Except she knew that already.

Heaving a sigh, the blonde rubbed her eyes again with the heels of her palms. She took another deep drag. She put her hands in her pockets and began making back for the armoury. It was empty when she arrived. One of several monitors situated about the room displayed a message that the calibration for Sec’s new weaponry had been finished. Nothing left now but to sit back and wait for Sec to show up. There was no doubt in her mind that he would be there right on time - he didn’t need to be summoned.

Disappearing momentarily into the back room, the woman returned with an old, classical, nylon-stringed guitar. The kind that was finished with a bright enough lacquer so as to appear almost yellow, yet somehow remain subtle. She flopped into one of her chairs - her favorite one - kicked up her feet on a table, spent a moment tuning the strings, closed her eyes and passed the time.

There was no change, no wavering as she glowered back up at him, challenging him for any response that would be contrary to her own. In her own way, she was worried, a tiny tickling feeling in the back of her neck that she would not be able to fulfill her promises or even to find something to protect. That in a way her life would be rendered meaningless by a sudden death, that she'd go to meet Reina having failed to achieve the task the other girl set her. Still, the fierce little pricks of light shone brightly like the little searchlights do on a darkened night.

Her single remaining fist was still curled up into a tight ball, ready to fight back should the need arise, to inflict just one small wound, much the same as Riley had thought when facing her down.

Of course, it was not to come to that, in those vital moments where her reflexes were just begining to break through the barriers of her rational thought, the reflexes which had kept her alive for so long in an enviroment designed to kill her every day she lived. In that moment when he smiled, not in the same friendly open way that had so confused her about the hippie chick, but a smile she understood more, a faint sort of respect glowed in her cheeks.

This smile, this perverse yet still extremely welcome hint of respect given to her, she felt comfortable with, in her own way she'd earnt this. She'd actually stood up to this old warrior, which in another of her own little quirks gave her far more respect for him than a young fighter like Riley. Both these two and Kato were clearly very old, one easily going much further back in time, but nobody achived a fairly acceptable lifelength as a fighter without being very good or very lucky, both deserved her respect.

They were alike in a way, she realised, it just seemed that the deep seated regret and self-loathing had yet to set in with this not quite as old couple. That similarity only increased as she felt the hand tustle her hair, "Hey!" She screwed her face up in a pout, making a half-hearted attempt to push the hand aside, it would of course, do nothing. She really looked her age now, less clouded by a faint haze of someone who'd had to mature too quickly, now she could truly be seen as the nineteen year old she was. The little fighter that had gone so much, was still in some respects nothing more than an average nineteen year old, still a kid. "What about my hair and this ship attracts peoples hands to it?"

The words sunk in, another set of people had welcomed her aboard.

She fell into an easy going step behind him as they set off through the doorway, here at least was people she could deal with, they moved in the world of threats and respect given unto the deserving fighter, that was the world she knew and understood, not the one of smoke and naive warmth.

"Gimme some loaders good enough to lift even the toughest of weights, I can handle it!" She was simply speaking her mind as uttered those words, although a tiny part of her mind, one so underused that it had almost ceased to exist spoke to her. Maybe the heaviest of arms isn't the best for you, after all your back really did feel better with those old ones removed. "At least make sure they're tough and sturdy!"

It still felt increadibly odd, the procedure through which she was fitted with new limbs or had them removed. The oddest bit coming from that sensation of non-feeling, the knowledge which the eyes provided that there was indeed a bit of metal entering into the sockets which mounted onto her shoulders, but the entireity of a complete lack of any sensation of this until all had been linked up and connected. Then came that sudden rush of feeling, the sharp jolt of pain caused by the synapses all slotting into place, that little prick which convinced her that she was in some way still able to procure some basic sense of feeling through these metal shells. She had more than enough patience to go around with this new procedure, it all worked, they had a passion for their job which was clearly ten times more than what most had down in the pits, there the job had taken a long time, not out off any sense of obligation to get the job right, but merely through the bone idle laziness of someone who doesn't have to care.

Then they finished, she had her new limbs, all she needed to do now was to test them.

A gentle swing of the arms.

She could almost cry, she'd had many arms before, many fitted in different ways before, but these were the first to be applied in a way that felt right. That actually felt like arms, or at least what she assumed arms felt like, not some heavy weights that tugged on her arms, but actual flexibile movement, they were strong too, not carrying the same raw power of the previous set which had been more like a metal club with a bend and actual functional technology powering it.

Before she'd leave she'd turn around to give one last sentance towards Jack. "An how do ya know this 'menial shit' ain't gonna be twice as exciting as anything you can offer me? Ya don't know, I may love loading and unloading stuff, a fight might be nice one in a while, just to prove I can, maybe you should try convincing me why I should stop doing my old job if ya want me so much eh?"

She paused.

"Thanks."

---

Kato would be exactly where Rob had left him, although now he was sitting in a corner carefully polishing his armour, some would say he was attempting to polish the rush and dents out, although if he managed that now all he'd be left with was the nails holding the thing together.

Instead most of his attention was truly focused on the left part of his arm, where he was making a very deliberate attempt not to look there, made only by those who desperately didn't want to draw attention to what they were staring at.

"Oh ... hello Rob ... How are you doing? A good trip I hope?"

Something was wrong.

She could feel it in the air, in her gut. Not merely the stunned, static silence of a crew preparing for the first - and probably last - real, live combat situation of their lives. An attack that was looming over the good people of the Last Light as last minute preparations were made. It was not simply the calm before the storm, she was sure of it. And too, with every minute that passed, she became more convinced that it was not merely a matter of having been out of the action for a hundred and forty eight years - years that had slipped by in a lazy, dreamlike bliss until now.

Taking a walk about the ship to calm her nerves, Mackie wandered from deck to deck, exchanging fist-bumps and finger-guns as usual. Checking in with all her friends - which was to say everyone on the old boat, whether they liked it or not. She went about flustering the cadets, as was one of her favorite pastimes. Asking about families and friends and dishing out compliments as liberally as ever.

She poked her head into the Engineering deck, where the little redhead engineer was upside down, waist deep in some kind of machine and cursing emphatically as her lavender-eyed synth companion silently fretted over her recklessness. I was him that she made eye contact with - forgetting that neither of them actually had any reason to know who she was at all. She gave him a cheerful, cheeky smile, a little wave, then ducked back out before the redhead even knew they’d even had a visitor.

She popped by the medical bay and spent a few minutes helping Danesh organizing his emergency supplies - trying not to think about the contingencies for which they were quietly preparing.

She hung out with Jack and Robyn for a few minutes, chatting about the awesome new combat sim they had gotten and how they would totally have to get together and share a pizza over a three-way deathmatch - nobody speaking the unspoken stipulation that was to assume all three of them would still be around by tomorrow.

She didn’t talk much to Corporal Firth, but refused to leave the room without a fist-bump.

She had been on her way to track down Annag when she realized that it was time to get ready for the ‘big day’ they had all been awaiting with the utmost apprehension. Sec had already been fitted with his huge and powerful ARC-gats, and she had pointedly intended to leave her visit to Kato for last, so all that was left to do now was get herself ready to take up the position she had solemnly promised.

The preparations were complete now. All but one of the ship bays had been blocked off from the outside, leaving the coming attackers only one option for boarding. The troops that would provide Sec with a barrage of covering fire that would help him get into ARC range were gathered to either side of the corridor, ready to leap around both corners and open fire on an enemy that could very well tear them all to shreds if Sec wasn’t fast enough, or if the troops themselves - inexperienced as they were - got careless or froze up.

Danesh was there with a small emergency medical station set up to treat potential wounds, positioned just behind where Mackie now stood, leaning up against a wall and preparing to do whatever it took to keep the people of Ringworld safe from the Light’s horrendous firepower.

It had been a very long time since the old Captain had seen that black hoodie. Since he had opportunity to glimpse the spinal implants on the back of her neck, which he had even after all these years never learned the functions of. She had never even ackowledged them. It had been a very long time since he had seen the girl’s hair pulled halfheartedly back just enough to keep it mostly out of her eyes while she focused down the sights of the absolute death machine of a rifle she presently held in a loose, familiar grip. A gun that shot actual bullets - the kind of weapon that never would have been permitted to board any starship unless wielded solely by a true master marksman. It was that weapon which Mackie would use to destroy any enemy that managed to break past their carefully prepared defenses, thus keeping them from obtaining the power to destroy the human race.

The prospect made Mackie sick - but she was ready.

Still, the Mackie leaning up against that wall did not look right. The woman was not immune to negative feelings, but this was something new, and dreadful - and she couldn’t make it go away this time. From her lips hung a very different kind of smoke than her usual - this one smelled toxic, but helped to calm the nerves.

But nothing could take away that dread in her gut. That bone deep certainty that something very bad was going to happen today. Something cruel and unexpected.

Doubtless the Captain was an exceptionally busy man today - but sooner or later he and the odd gunsmith - of whom he knew almost nothing - met each other’s gaze. And in those familiar eyes, was something else he had not seen for a long while. Perhaps barely a moment in his extended perspective of time, but over a century nonetheless. It was that deep, saturnine glimmer of fear. It was a look more than expressive enough to convey the message that she needed him to hear.

’Something terrible is going to happen today. I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop it...and I’m afraid.’

Annag had been busy at work much of the previous days, not giving herself any breaks apart from the few hours necessary to sleep and eat. She wouldn't tell anyone, but she was training for the fight too, not the main attack, she wasn't equipped for something like that, not that anyone would let her even remotely close to that. Instead what she was ready for, was the real attack.

She knew it was coming and she knew where, when and even who. It would be just a single person, but a person equipped in one of the remaining suits of fully operation battle armor, all the defenses of a miniature warship compressed into a single body.

It was a stupid plan of hers, one that if it went wrong would wipe out the entirety of the human race, but she just couldn't bring herself to tell anyone else. This was a battle she'd helped to bring to this ship, to the whole of humanity and she'd intend to finish it. Not that she expected telling the crew could have done anything, from what she'd seen the ship barely had the armory and marines capable of holding off the diversion, they'd be shredded in the face of this opponent. Of course, she had one last trick.

Reina's last gift ...

A small bomb built into her back, all she needed to do was stop breathing and the whole thing would go, it would damage the ship, but it would blow them both out the airlock and there'd be no Delta V left to get back, she'd die, but the ship would be saved.

"Attention all marines, please report to Hanger 3, this is NOT a drill."

Kato's voice rang out over the loudspeaker, she'd recognise that monotone mixture of determination and sadness anywhere. It was something she'd gotten so used to hearing it just somewhere beyond sight, mostly muttering words to people who when anyone else saw him, mysteriously vanished. Maybe living out here on this ship for tens of thousands of years really did drive someone crazy.

Not that, that was an important consideration now, most of it really was all quite irrelevant, all that mattered was her fight. It wouldn't be long, she needed to be there, she needed to do this. If she was to go here, then so be it. It was her own little last stand.

Taking the route she'd practiced so much recently, she slipped through the small corridors and vents that would take her to the needed place, a slightly dented and weak point in the hull, the plans had labled it as an access hatch that must once have been used frequently to help with getting engineers out to repair the ship when docked, now it would serve as a hostile access port.

Annag sat down and waited, positioning herself to face straight on.

When they arrived she would be there.

---

Kato had been organizing the marines when Mackie arrived, in fact, it took him a long time to even notice her and even longer to look up and give her his full attention and in that split second he recognised that expression in her eyes. Making a quick excuse to the nervous and jumpy looking marine he'd been directing he swung himself over to her.

"Mackie, you've done everything you can to prepare us for this moment and for that you have my utmost thanks. Although I do trust your hunches ... go where you feel most needed and do what you feel is right. I trust you to do that, make sure your hunch stays a hunch, can you do that for me?"

It wouldn't be long that he'd be able to share time with her and he wanted to make those moments count if she really did have a bad feeling, he agreed that something could happen, but he needed her ready. He needed to show that faith he had in her abilities, to use that ability to achive their shared dream. To keep that little peice of their galaxy safe.

“Guess it’s time to rock’n’roll.” He unlocks his footlocker and grabs the holster,gun still in it, and starts to run to the armoury, knowing he’ll need something from it.

The blonde woman, a hundred and twenty years older than she looked, looked up at the ancient captain and grinned. It was weak, and a little sad, but not forced. That was one of the dozen little things about the woman that were so strange - she could always smile. She had known, of course, that no permission was necessary. And besides that, if the sick, churning feeling in her gut and anxious buzzing in her head were to be believed, she wouldn’t be around to face the repercussions of what happened today anyway. But still, it felt good to hear his confidence in her. It always felt good to hear him talk, on the relatively rare occasions he saw fit to speak aloud. And she were being honest, she didn’t even know why she tended to find comfort there - and why she had never told him about it. Maybe out of some anxiety that if he knew, he would stop.

With that grin, Mackie’s response was initially silent. She looked down at the floor for a moment, then kicked herself off the wall she had been leaning on, sauntering up to the old man almost as if without purpose. She almost looked like she was going to just walk past him, perhaps even brush by with a shoulder - but instead, she stopped beside him, reached up and wrapped her right arm loosely around his own, gently grasping the still warm flesh with a palm and idly rubbing her thumb back and forth. Dwarfed even at average height by the iron giant, Mackie leaned sideways into his arm as though he were some sturdy support pylon, resting her temple against the cool metal of his shoulder.

For a long time, she just stood there, eyes closed, nuzzling softly into the cold metal as though it were alive - as if the one who dwelt within that metal husk were not a mad sentinel, but a man.

”Thanks, K.” She said after some time, her voice a husky sigh. There was no doubt that her appreciation ran far deeper than this moment.

With one last, affectionate little squeeze, Mackie unhinged herself from the mighty cyborg and, without another word, and without turning back, she gripped the rifle proper and left the corridor at a trot.

If she was going to stop this awful thing from happening, she was first going to have to figure out what it was.

Jogging back toward the armory, Mackie did not stop when she saw Corporal Firth up ahead, making his way there - brushing past him, then hesitating briefly as she rounded the corner to look back at him, hastily tossing him a key, underhand. ”Robbie. Fourth locker from the right. Take my spot.” She said, and then disappeared around the corner, with renewed purpose.

The key would open the locker she had mentioned, and within was another one of her private arms - a vicious plasma rifle that would be a serious hazard in any but the most proficient hands. It was the only other weapon aboard the ship with the same raw stopping power as Mackie’s own rifle, and would have little trouble shredding through any enemy who managed to get past their defensive line. It was obvious what she wanted of him - to take up her previously discussed position of rear-guard, and make sure that no enemy made it down that second corridor alive…

---

”There! @#$%in’ right there!” Riley yelped abruptly, in a throaty combination of triumph and frustration, emphatically prodding at the huge computer screen. She was small enough that she had to actually stand atop the console to reach that spot, but she felt it was really quite important.

The girl had been poring over the ship schematics all morning, ever since the word had gotten around that the attack would come today. She had opened up the blueprints of the Last Light on the huge screen of the central computer in the engineering hub, and tirelessly scrutinized it with the systematic persistence of only the most devoted fanatic. Had she known what it was she had been looking for, Riley would doubtless have found it in a matter of minutes, given her familiarity with the ship’s layout after all those lonesome nights fawning over it from afar. But she hadn’t known - all she had been sure of was that there was something she needed to find. A pure gut instinct, a nagging anxiety in the back of her mind. Nothing Ike could have done would pull her away.

And now, there she was, standing up on the console and furiously poking the screen. ”An’ old access hatch’like!” She announced, urgently. ”A @#$%in’ back door, ‘at is, an’ I bet’che ass nobody’s coverin’ it-” Whirling on the likely somewhat dazed Ike, Riley hopped down from the console. ”We gotta’ @#$%in’ tell someone-”

But her words were interrupted when she noticed, over Ike’s shoulder, the blonde woman in the black hoodie that was standing in the doorway, peering gravely back at her over a pair of thin, opaque sunglasses. ”Thanks kid, I’ll take care of it.” the woman said, gave a nod, then spun and proceeded to jog hastily back down the corridor.

Riley blinked, somewhat deflated, then turned back to Ike. ”Who’de @#$% was ‘at?”

But before Ike would have a chance to give the girl an answer, it started. A deep, unsettling rumble from far off, the barely perceptible trembling of the floor as the Last Light, for the first time in uncountable centuries, was breached by an enemy attack.

Wasting no time, Riley dropped the issue of the mystery woman and the access hatch, and set about going through with her hastily assembled secret plan from the night before, when she had sneaked about while Ike slept, collecting specific tools and stuffing them into a backpack which she then hid strategically next to one of the narrow doors to the extensive maintenance corridors. Knowing that Ike would do everything in his power to keep her from being as reckless and stupid as this plan required, she had endeavored to do it in secret.

Riley cursed, then pointed emphatically over Ike’s other shoulder. ”Lookit’at!” And then, whether or not he actually turned to look and give her that second or two head start, Riley whirled and booked it across the engineering hub, snatching up the backpack and diving into the maintenance corridor as fast as she could muster. This little plan of hers was most likely going to be thwarted by the synth, but Riley was a thick headed idiot and needed to try anyway.

Her intent was to make her way to the tunnels surrounding where the main breach was, in order to be available for emergency repairs. But she was probably just going to end up getting tackled by Ike before she could get halfway there…

---

Mackie, alone in the hall, abruptly shifted into a full on sprint as the sound of the breach reached her ears, and the vague, unsettling tremor snaked up through her boots. She knew now. Knew what she had been so nervous over - and it was not merely the concept of a second, secret attack. What had been eating away at her was just how she had come to that subconscious conclusion - that little detail which had slipped past her before, revealed in context only now. The way Annag had insisted that she had no more information. She should have known.

And now, all the intuitive pieces had fallen into place. If Mackie’s gut was to be trusted, then not only was there going to be a second attack - but Annag was going to be there too.

But as Mackie’s boots pounded the ancient metal of the corridor floors, she knew with just as much certainty that she wasn’t going to make it in time. They would have breached by the time she arrived - and by then it may very well have been too late.

Annag flopped backward, a leg taking one futile step backward before her body was picked up with seeming ease and tossed against the wall.

"That all ya fracking got?"

The girl was pushing herself off the ground with her remaining arm, spitting a small globule of blood before taunting her opponent again. Each word, each movement looked like it was sending waves of agony through her body, yet some supernatural force was propelling it back into an upright position.

"Even now suited up, I'm still three times ta fighter ya we-"

A massive metal fist slammed into her chest, removing all remaining air from her lungs. Once more she crashed into the wall and once more she refused to collapse, if she was going to lose this fight, she was going to make sure it was fatal.

Muddy brown eyes locked themselves on that metal suit of armour towering over her, its faceless visor staring impassively down on the practically defenseless fighter and within seconds spittle, mixed with bile and blood followed. It would wind him up, she knew that, in fact, she knew all of his little weak points, each little button she needed to press to her get her desired result, it was just a matter of reaching out.

The truth about the fight was that while one had all the preparation, all the knowledge and the skill, the sheer brute strength of the other and the near invulnerability of the armour had really decided the outcome from the start. Blows had rained down upon it and barely a scratch had been created, yet in those few moments when his wandering fist had caught her the damage done was intense. The first two had severely injured and the third took her whole arm with it.

It wouldn't be long now and she knew it, her vision had already begun to blur, blood flowing freely down over her left eye, obscuring all vision.

"Why are you doing this Annag??!"

She stayed silent, she didn't need to explain herself, not now, not to anyone.

"Are you throwing your life away to join Reina? Why are you trying to deny us everything we've worked for?"

The armoured fist raised itself in preparation for the final blow, tightening up before freezing in hesitation for the merest fraction of a second. Then it swung down, ready to deliver that last crushing blow.

---

He'd been startled when Riley had suddenly yelped out, bringing him back from the slightly dazed stated he'd been working in before. The idea of a fight scared him, even more so than it did before, because he knew somewhere within him he had weapons that could work, but no idea how to use them. That thought terrified him, that he could somehow aid in this battle and yet he didn't, choosing to stay back and hide instead.

In a way, however, he was glad to be slammed back to reality, his thoughts before had been getting scarier and more inwards and this perfectly brought him out.

His puzzlement and slightly bemused look only seemed to grow even further when another figure he didn't really recognise popped up and took the information Riley had seeminly unwittingly handed to her, gathering it up and choosing a course of action within seconds. He felt lost, like a boat during the middle of a paticualrly strong river that had somehow become untethered and was now speeding off without control.

"Ummm, sure." He turned his head back towards the redheaded engineer next to him, who to his relief seemed just as bemused by the sudden appearance as he did. "I have no idea..."

The sudden set of events, coupled with the out of nowhere appearances and dissapearances worked entirely in Riles favour, Ike was left in a puzzled state, just long enough for her to get her desired gear, bag and distract him.

"Huh? Wha? What is it?" He swung around in panic at the sudden urgency in her voice, expecting to be confronted by some hulking warrior point a gun straight at them. The reality scared him even more: Nothing. She'd tricked him. Swinging back he got one glimpse of her little form dashing towards the maintinance shaft.

In a flash he was after her, running at full tilt, doing his best to grab along of her even in a small way to slow her down and prevent her foolish choice. "Riles, please! Don't do this! We can help after the battle, I don't want you to get hurt, please! You mean too much to me!"

Mackie’s boots pounded the ancient metal as she sprinted through hallways as still and silent as the tomb. It was hard to imagine that, elsewhere on the ship, an invasion was in process. She wasn’t sure she had ever run so fast. The cybernetics were helping of course, unable to speed her up, but capable of forcing her to retain enough stamina to keep up the pace. It hurt, as it always had. She was going to be seriously sore after this.

Assuming she survived.

She had been mostly watching the floor, making sure her efforts weren’t spoiled by something as stupid as tripping on a loose panel. But as she neared her destination - having memorized the engineer’s map down to the finest details - she glanced upward and blinked, allowing the cybernetic eyes to give her a glance - a mere hint - of what awaited her beyond the walls. A big @#$%ing suit of power armor, of course. Lovely.

Mackie’s finger tightened around the trigger of the rifle that had long since become more than merely an extension of herself. Her thumb automatically pressed down on the pad that dynamically altered the weapon’s power, allowing her to hold it at just enough to penetrate her enemy without risking the ship’s fragile hull. The fog of battle fell over her. It was all or nothing; now was not the time to hold back for the sake of her enemies. She could work on trying to come to terms with that if she survived. Until then, the mission objective was etched into the woman’s skill; do not let that girl die.

It was going to be a much more close-quarters battle than she would have liked. It was likely going to end very quickly - one way or another.

Deciding to announce herself before entry, she screamed the first thing that came to mind, her voice hoarse and challenging, leaping through the door as she was on the last syllable.


The rain of fire which came upon the suited individual was not so much a barrage as it was the stab of some gigantic needle. With inhuman precision, a string of bullets fired rapidly enough to sound more like a gigantic buzzsaw than the rapport of a rifle drilled through the shoulder joint of an arm within nanoseconds of passing the apex of a death blow. While the attack did not necessarily hit the critical joint which would disable the limb, there was no denying that was doing some serious damage.

Between the battlecry and the pelting of a criminally overpowered gun it seemed impossible that the armored figure would not turn their attention to the source of it all. The targeted spray of fire would continue as they did so, the shooter not hesitating to shift her target to where the operator’s head was most likely to be. The rapport was relentless, drilling, eating through the metal with bullets that were themselves not unlike vicious little needles. The recoil on the thing was clearly insane, even with dampening technology - that much could be seen in the woman’s stance as she fired - not that she was at risk of failing to control the furious weapon, but that it took a lot of effort to maintain that control. It was a wonder the thing didn’t break her shoulder.

In the battle fog, Mackie perceived vaguely that the girl was, at very least, alive. She also estimated distantly how long it would take for her ridiculous bullets to drill through the ridiculous armor, and was pretty confident that she would be able to take the brute down...Just not before it got at least one serious hit on her. Very possibly a fatal hit.

This was gonna’ hurt.

Oh well.

---

The maintenance corridors were terribly narrow, mostly intended for accessing the myriad complex systems hidden within the old ship’s walls. They had never been intended as a shortcut from one part of the ship to another. But for once, RIley’s size was coming in handy as she booked it through the claustrophobic tunnels. A normal sized person could still make good time - but she could make better time.

”Cool story mate! Tell’i again!” She called back at him before slamming shut a door as she barreled through it, giving her the extra second or two it would take for him to open it up again.

”I can’t hear you~!” She responded the next time he called after her, in a singsong tone. Not that she wasn’t taking this seriously. There were legitimate reasons to have an engineer on site, not the least of which being the pair of automatic defense turrets mounted on the ceiling which she had taken the liberty of repairing behind Ike’s back - difficult as it was to get away from the guy for five seconds. All she had to do was turn them on - she had calibrated them and everything! And she wouldn’t even have to stick her head out from above to do it. Not to mention the various other details she had idly noticed on her first day, but paid no mind to until she learned that they were going to be exposed to combat. Most likely she would not be needed - but staying hidden nearby would still be potentially useful. Just to be safe.

Leaping over a bulky protrusion in the floor and practically sliding around a sharp corner, it was starting to look like she might actually make it. She just hoped things were going well enough that being late to the party wouldn’t matter.

He heard the various laser shots, quickly counting the lockers, opening the fourth locker, taking the contents and running to the armoury, taking whatever armoured vest he found quick enough, and dashing for the hangar and taking cover, shooting at the person in more than necessary body armour and yelling at whoever was foolish enough to get in front of the walking weapons locker, yelling, “You got a death wish? GET TO COVER!” He knew they couldn’t, sighing, dropping the rifle and pulling out the pistol, giving himself cover fire as he tried to pull whoever it was back to safety, getting hit in the arm,dropping the laser pistol and yelling out in distress and pain, and continuing to pull them back with one arm.

Her eyes locked onto the gigantic metal fist as it hovered around her head, Annag allowed herself to relax, not outwardly, that would give it all away, but inside. She could feel all the tension, the adrenaline flowing away, it wasn't needed now, not anymore. In her own small way she'd won.

The second that fist connected with her head she'd be gone and so would he, the two of them blown out into space, saving the whole of the world. Not bad for someone born in the gutters. After every fight, this she felt was a fitting ending, she could use her final gift, feel that her survival before was no accident. She could do everything that had been denied everyone else in the pits.

Yet this didn't feel like a goodbye, she had no one to say goodbye to left, but instead a greeting. "Hey Reina, you don't need to wait any longer. I'm coming back to ya."

She closed her eyes and waited.




Pain washed over her, fierce waves spreading across her head, yet there was no sudden cease, no calm relaxing detachment. The sudden shock of it all forced a scream of agony from her lungs, she'd felt pain like it before, but each time before the fire of adrenaline had pushed it back long enough to keep fighting. Yet the worst part was that even when she forced open her eyes she saw nothing, just an empty nothingness.

Was this really what the end felt like?

Had she even made a difference?

Why not just try closing her eyes and simply fade away?


After a few moments of agony a sudden realisation snapped her back from the brink, the pain, she'd felt it before. It was the pain of a cold armoured hand gripping her by the face. Dangling her limp body off the ground. Why? That didn't matter now, it seemed obvious to her that he wasn't going to let her die and ruin his plans, in the end even her last sacrifice was being denied. Redemption it seemed was not coming for her after all.

"Guess your gonna have to wait a bit longer Rey"

For Mackie, she would be able to see it all, suddenly facing the hail of bullets, he'd grabbed the almost broken body of the girl and begun dangling it infront of his body, using each part of her to protect himself. All while tiny emplacements on the armour began opening up, each holding their own miniature laser rifle, ready to fire around or through Annag's lifeless body at his assailant.

---

Kato paused at the door, his hand trembling as he readied himself to go out into the hanger, he'd felt so prepared the second before, like he would be able to simply step through and go in guns blasing like he'd done so many times before. Yet each step he'd taken closer, was one that felt like two more backwards.

You swore to keep us safe!

Lives were counting on him, he needed to act, needed to go in there that second.

OUR LIVES!

It was a simple press and then he'd be in, what was he so hesitant for?

You must protect us!

Then again he knew where the last escape pod was, surely if he moved here, saved the ship the cycle would begin again down the line, each time a new battle would be fought, one that in the end couldn't be won.

Save a small presence of humanity, all by yourself.

He hit the button and charged through the doorway, getting struck immediately in the chest by a stray bolt, yet his armour held, protecting him as it had done so many times before. Even as he stepped in he could see they were loosing, a crate exploding nearby under an invisible blast, vaporising the defender behind it in a wave of invisible energy.

There out in front of him was Robert, pulling a wounded marine backwards to safety from another of their absurdly armoured fighters, this was someone he was not willing to let go, they'd been through so much, this was one connection to the past he wasn't letting go.

He didn't even fire, simply lowering his head and charging forwards, trusting in his old armour and its protection to carry himself past his allies and into their ranks, he needed space to truly protect them, no matter the damage to himself.

---

Ike was going at full tilt after her, even then he wasn't catching up, her short stature and headstart had given her the natural advantage needed to get a lead and keep it when it came to the android desperately attempting to catch up. Even then he was going too fast to notice the door, slamming into it and careening backward. Little scuff marks blemishing the pale artificial skin.

Pushing himself upwards he left as if his left connection to the universe and his place inside it was being ripped away, that any understanding he had left was fading.

She'd tricked him and run off into battle alone, was it to protect him? Did she not think he was worthy of fighting alongside her, did she simply have a deathwish?

All of these questions were ones he lacked any sort of answer too and it frustrated him, almost as much as they scared him. What if he lost her?

Slamming a fist onto the door he called out one last desperate plea, "Riley! Please, come back! Let me protect you!"

After he got them to cover and signaling for someone to get help, he saw that Kato running in, and while in better armour, still had a low chance of defeating their iron armoured opponents and pulled out his knife, thinking to himself, “all those laser rifles have to have a battery dock or cooling vent or something, it can’t be on the front, meaning....” he then yelled out to anyone listening amidst the gunfire, “throw your ‘nades behind them!” He didn’t have any grenades, but someone had to. He then put the knife away and picked up the rifle he left when he needed to help this sorry soul, and tried to fire where the armour plates met.

The universe stopped. Mackie’s blood ran cold, an icy shiver shooting down her cybernetically augmented spine. She shifted her weight, biting down on the cigarette between her teeth as her finger released the trigger, the hail of bullets ceasing with a final, resounding twang. A puff of black smoke billowed up from the mech’s arm joint, but not enough to sever the connection and disable the hand.

It was all too familiar - the ruddy haze of battle. Long forgotten memories returning in essence alone - half-remembered nightmares in the dreamlike place between waking and sleep. Familiar, and yet-

The woman’s eyes seemed to glow faintly in the dusky light of this forgotten, hidden place deep within the bowels of a vessel constructed for remembrance. They bore into the faceless mask of that armored figure with a furious intensity that nobody aboard the Last Light had ever witnessed. Mackie couldn’t remember the last time she truly despised anyone - yet this loathing that was boiling within her gut was not a completely alien sensation. She didn’t want it there - but more than that, she didn’t want him there.

And so she was going to make him go away.

Eyes flicked rapidly enough between the various emplacements extending out from the armor as for the movement to be imperceptible. Neural overlay highlighted them with riticles - but she wasn’t paying any attention - and she wasn’t stupid, either. It wasn’t as if should she give up the fight and toss her gun aside the brute would release the girl. It wasn’t as if there was anything in the whole, dead universe she could say to make him change his course. He had already proven his intent to end her, and Mackie knew now without a doubt that if she didn’t act quickly he would open fire on her and shred Annag’s body in the process.

It had all been borrowed time…

Mackie didn’t waste any energy on shouting, taunting the enemy. She was focused in the midst of an adrenaline rush the likes of which she could not recall having ever experienced before. Her veins were frozen solid, her head swimming in the haze of desperate, life-or-death battle.

He wasn’t going to win. Mackie knew that now. She might not either, but that didn’t matter right now.

It was as if she’d been made for this.

Without the slightest hesitation, Mackie’s left hand released the rifle stock in a gesture as if flicking a frisbee. The baggy sleeve of her black hoodie was hiked up just enough to reveal the glint of a mad-science experiment that had, not long ago, been intended for integration into Annag’s new arms.

The wrist-mounted dart gun fired silently, configured to utilize all stored conversion matter in a single projectile that was barely the caliber of a sewing needle. The impact was visible only as the slightest pinprick of red as it passed through the hollow of Annag’s shoulder and out the other side, piercing the chest of the armored figure behind her like a needle through leather.

Mackie had not yet the chance to test this configuration - but her other myriad mad-science weaponry had yet to fail in the firing range. It was programmed to release a sort of EMP intended specifically to fry energy-based weapons, generating a dampening field that would linger for however long it took for the needlelike projectile to dissolve - Mackie had estimated fifteen minutes.

But whether or not the science functioned was almost irrelevant - because Mackie’s aim was legendary, and what she had been aiming for was not the enemy’s armor - but his heart.

---

Riley couldn’t remember the last time she had run like this. It was exhilarating. Up and down, over and under, pounding on the ancient metal as she brought herself closer and closer to what might very well be the first time she had ever actually done something important. She was finally going to be able to help her comrades. She couldn’t let them down.

Hastily, almost as an afterthought, Riley glanced back just before rounding a corner to see that the door was still closed. It brought a glowing smirk to her face.

She hadn’t locked it.

Looking ahead again Riley was just barely able to dodge a protruding beam, practically flying up a short set of makeshift stairs built from old parts stacked on older machines. She had not been able to hear the pounding of Ike’s fist on the door over the pounding of her own boots - but she was pretty sure she could hear the sounds of battle now. Another set of stairs. A twist. A leap, grabbing hold of some tiny ledge before pulling herself up onto a wide, open space with a ceiling just high enough for her short stature to stand up straight. Eight bulbous domes of machinery bumped up from the floor at regular intervals, each with a rudimentary built-in control panel. The old old kind with physical keys and a dull, barely backlit screen; exactly what the little engineer was accustomed to.

They really couldn’t have picked a better mechanic for this job, she thought smugly to herself - adrenaline fueling the girl as she proceeded to the first protruding dome without the slightest hesitation.

Riley was coated in a glossy sheen of sweat from the exertion of her mad sprint, chest heaving - but she didn’t care. She was just as frightened as she was excited, but none of that mattered. What mattered was doing her part and activating those defense turrets. She had already spent some time over the prior days making repairs and ensuring they were in working order. She had calibrated and recalibrated them to recognize allies from enemies. Unable to test them before now, the tech couldn’t be completely certain that all of them would operate effectively, but she was damned confident. And she knew there wouldn’t be friendly-fire issues - that much she was certain.

One by one, Riley unlocked the terminals and, having already programmed them to do their job, needed only hit the activation switch to make them run the commands and proceed with laying waste to the enemies of the ’Last Light’ and it’s crew. Her crew.

One by one, the turrets clinging to the ceiling of the hangar bay began to come to life, silently spinning up and taking aim at unidentified units before unleashing everything they had upon the enemy below.

The hulking figure slowly began to take a few steps forward, staying quiet in its own silent hatred of those still standing in its way. There was nothing in its manner that would suggest that anything other than slaying this hulking suit of armour would solve the situation, not that the practically impassive death machine looked like anything that could have been reasoned with to begin with.

As it moved forward the large hulking fingers seemed to be the only thing to show any sort of expression at all and that was a cruel and twisted delight in putting more pressure on the captive held within their grip. Even then it would seem unsure whether captive would be the right word to describe the figure held limply within the machines' clutches. She'd uttered a scream, what remained of her limbs had thrashed and now, nothing, no sign of life radiated at all.

Not that Mackie would have time to contemplate that much, the second the dart passed through her shoulder, more spasms of pain would wrack the already devastated body, then as the dart smashed its way through the armour and inside the hulk of metal a sudden silence would fall on the battered corridor.

All that would be left was a slight fizzling, the sort that would be perfectly natural to hear if you'd just sliced through still live wiring. Which in essence was exactly what Mackie had done, she couldn't see it yet, but the space where flesh and blood should have been the hole had only exposed more wiring and electrics, it appeared that whoever was inside had given up their entire body for increased power.

"Oh come on, really?" Their antagonist finally began to speak up, "Can't you people just stop getting in my way!"

Several of the emplacements fired, taking shots out of the wall and further scarring Annag, little burns appearing all around her sides. None of the shots would come even remotely close to Mackie or even seemed to be intended to hit her, merely that the hulking machine seemed now to be firing out of frustration.

"You people don't know anything about what I've been through to get here! What I've lost, so JUST GET OUT OF MY W-"

A single clenched fist powered upwards, hydraulic springs retracting and expanding to give it just that extra bit of speed she'd been looking for. It was a process she'd started ever since she'd come back to enough consciousness to formulate a plan, the idea was stupid, it was going to snap her arm the second it finished, but it was all she could do now.

Metal rended and within moments two more limbs were snapped in half, the first was Annag's her arm breaking in two from the sheer strain it had been under. The other, only mere seconds later was the arm holding her head, cracks slowly forming from the impact until the weight of the defiant fighter pulled the sockets free.

Broken, battered and practically unrecognisable the brown-haired fighter managed her own last smile, she had achieved something after all. "Ya always did talk too much."

---

Kato paused before standing back from the corpses around him, two of the attackers stood there collapsed at his feet. A knife gripped fiercely in one hand, with three more wedged beneath the gaps in the crumpled bodies armour. There was almost a circle of space around him where the battle seemed to fade as if even noise itself was not prepared to go anywhere close to the eons old butcher gasping for breath.

Not that his sheer ferocity stopped everything from entering that area around him, one paticularly daring attacker having seen how little effect their laser rifles had had on this being was now approaching with a large serrated knife only to find just before they could strike a series of laser bolts crashing into them. Turning they'd just manage to see Robert before more of the bolts brought them down.

As the remaining marines followed Roberts orders and Sec who'd been waiting for the right time to join the fight it looked for a few seconds as if the tides were going to turn. Opposition morale was already wavering, after all they were merely the distraction, they didn't need to expend their lives meaninglessly, which was the exact time the turrets made their presence known, unleashing their own hail of laser fire down into the hanger.

All of these new things proved just that little bit too much for even the most daring of borders, almost unanimously they decided to leave the remainder of the task to their comrade equiped with the Mechsuit.

Kato didn't bother to watch, he saw the start of the retreat and simply turned to walk away from the site of battle, his eyes dulled and almost greyed in such a way that no hint of emotion could he gleamed. "All of you tend to the wounded, apart from you Sec, you give them chase."

He paused before looking upwards at the turrets, "Rob, I want you to go find that little engineer and bring her to me, I've got a few words I want to say to her."

Then he was gone, no further words, merely sightless steps deeper into the center of the ship, back to his cabins. There was no longer any reason or need for him to be there, not now, not anymore. Elsewhere on the ship a door exploded with a burst of lightning.