“Rune... Rune… are you alright? Answer me! Rune…” Ash’s voice trembled as he called out to his mech partner through the neural interface. But there was no response. The once-reliable link between them was silent, leaving Ash’s mind in a whirlwind of unease. The helmet's interface was pitch-black, offering no visual feedback.
Heart racing, Ash tore the helmet off in desperation. His breath caught in his throat at the sight before him.
The cockpit was in utter disarray. Energy conduits floated weightlessly, scattered across the void. The patchwork repair using iron-scaled reptile scales was gone, leaving the original hole now large enough for a person to slip through. All the air had long since escaped into the vacuum, leaving the chamber eerily silent. Jagged, torn metal edges glinted under the flickering emergency lights.
Ash’s voice cracked as he screamed, “Rune! Rune, where are you? Stop hiding! Come out, please… You’re stronger than this! No one can take you down. Rune! Stop messing around and come back!” His desperate cries reverberated within the confines of his suit, a solitary sound in the void of space.
When his throat grew hoarse and exhaustion overwhelmed him, Ash’s defiant shouts dissolved into the dry rasp of hopeless sobs. Eventually, he slumped against the cockpit wall and drifted into a restless, oxygen-deprived sleep.
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A sharp beeping noise jolted Ash awake. Groggy but alert, he followed the sound to a flashing button beneath his seat. A glance at the warning display left him cold: the cockpit’s life-support reserves were critically low. The automated system would soon open the protective canopy to prevent suffocation—a double-edged sword in the vacuum of space.
“Damn it,” Ash cursed under his breath as the alarm abruptly stopped. With a hiss, the canopy slid open. A sudden rush of decompression hurled Ash into the air like a ragdoll. Instinct took over, and he reached out, managing to grab a utility hook on the cockpit wall just in time.
The strain on his body was immense. He fumbled at his belt, pulling free a soft-tube device with a nozzle at one end. Biting down on the nozzle, he drew a deep breath of the pure oxygen it delivered. Relief swept through him as his vision cleared, and colour returned to his face.
The device—a relic of a bygone era—was something Ash’s father had once treasured. It was a Windini Corporation emergency oxygen kit from fifty years ago, capable of supplying two hours’ worth of breathable air. Though he had dismissed it as a useless antique, his father had proven its worth during a severe illness, where its oxygen reserves had saved his life. Now, this small device was all that stood between Ash and asphyxiation.
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The clock was ticking. Ash estimated that with careful rationing, the oxygen might last three hours at most. He needed a plan—and fast.
Surveying the cockpit’s ruins, he noted the gaping hole in the hull. Something must have collided with Rune during their high-speed flight. The mech’s internal oxygen systems were destroyed, and all reserves had been lost.
“Alright,” Ash muttered, forcing a grim smile. “Time to improvise.”
He rummaged through the storage compartment beneath his seat, retrieving a bundle of high-tensile fibre rope. One end was tied securely to the seat base, while the other looped around his torso. Floating freely in zero gravity without a tether was a death sentence, and Ash had no intention of becoming a drifting corpse.
Steeling himself, he manoeuvred toward the jagged opening in the hull. The darkness beyond was oppressive, an unknowable void that sent shivers down his spine.
Switching on the wrist-mounted laser lamp, Ash took a deep breath from the oxygen tube. “Let’s see what’s out there.” With a push, he propelled himself through the opening.
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The outside was a chaotic scene of wreckage. Rune, his mech, was half-embedded in the hull of a massive starship. The impact had left both vessels crippled. Pieces of debris floated everywhere, glinting ominously under the faint light of distant stars.
“So that’s what happened,” Ash murmured, piecing the events together. Rune must have collided head-on with this starship while in hyperspeed, neither able to evade the other. The damage explained Rune’s silence—his partner was gravely injured.
Though fear lingered, Ash felt a spark of hope. If the starship had functional reserves of air or equipment, he might just have a chance to survive.
Carefully, he floated down a narrow corridor that extended from the impact site. The walls were scorched and pockmarked with cracks, evidence of explosions and catastrophic failure. The emergency lighting was completely offline, plunging the passage into darkness. Only the beam of his laser lamp illuminated the eerie scene.
Ash’s breath steadied. His initial panic was gone, replaced by a singular focus: survival. “If there’s a way out of this mess, I’ll find it.”
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The corridor stretched endlessly, littered with jagged fragments of machinery and panels. Ash advanced cautiously, scanning every corner with the lamp’s beam. Each shadow seemed to shift and writhe, teasing his overtaxed imagination.
At last, he reached what appeared to be a sealed hatch. A quick inspection revealed that its locking mechanism had been fried in the explosions. Ash reached for his toolkit, pulling out a thermal cutter.
Sparks flew as the tool hissed to life. Time seemed to crawl as he worked, his hands moving with careful precision. Every second drained precious oxygen, a grim reminder of the urgency.
Finally, the hatch gave way with a groan, revealing the chamber beyond. Ash’s lamp swept across its interior, revealing storage crates, equipment racks, and a faint red emergency beacon blinking in the corner.
His heart leapt. If the equipment was intact, this room might hold the resources he needed to repair Rune—or at least ensure his own survival.
With renewed determination, Ash drifted inside, laser lamp held high.