Attendance at Fortescue Military Academy M1 Y:2142
House Thoth, Squad Leader, Squad Zero
M1 Rank: 1/1275, Tier 3 M-Rank: Null
Term: 2 to 3, Break
Daedalus Financial Position: -1,760,000 bitcreds
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“It has to be you,” Vannier said firmly.
“No!” Axel-Zero said, “I have put Old Dawg through too much already. And if I go back to my normal style and lose … that … will be worse!”
“We are at an impasse,” Vannier argued, “because I refuse to pilot when you performed better than me in the first four rounds.”
Axel-Zero looked pained, but she held firm as well, arguing, “I refuse to pilot as well. Do you want to forfeit or pilot?”
“I have a better idea. We will ask Daedo to decide,” Vannier said.
Axel-Zero’s pained look did not abate as she asked, “Do you know the answer already?”
Vannier shook her head. “It’s a fair suggestion. You should agree.”
Daedo was the one repairing and the one who had rebuilt Old Dawg. Axel-Zero could not refuse the compromise which was probably why Vannier suggested it.
“Okay,” Axel-Zero admitted defeat.
The pair walked back to the Mech Bay to summon Daedo. They had reached the last round of the qualifiers and, in order to grab a Wildcard, they had to defeat Dead Beat. It was both a great outcome and terrible one at the same time. If Daedalus had more luck, their mechs would have been placed in four separate parts of the draw.
“Daedo,” Vannier called.
He turned and saw the pair, while Vannier waved her hand indicating he should come down. Daedo proceeded to lower himself from the side of his mech, Titan Hyperion.
“I don’t think I have seen you out of that chair in two days,” Vannier stated.
“I did sleep for seven hours,” Daedo sounded calm and collected as usual.
“When?” Vannier asked. Ikaros, Kang and Daedo all missed dinner, they ate in the mech bay while working late.
Daedo grinned cheekily, shrugged and asked, “Did you need something?”
“Oh yeah,” Vannier began. “We want you to break an impasse we have. We can’t decide who will pilot Old Dawg in the last qualifier round.”
“Why do you need me? It’s pretty obvious given your opponent,” Daedo responded emphatically, “It should be Axel-Zero. Dead Beat has the same armour as you, and it will need a lot of damage to break down,” Daedo said.
“You could equally argue that Vannier will be able to deliver more blows than she takes as well,” Axel-Zero proposed.
“Whose side are you on?” Daedo asked looking at Axel-Zero with a puzzled expression before adding, “That’s true, but I can guarantee you will deliver more blows than you take. You have gotten more out of Old Dawg than I thought was possible, “he informed Axel-Zero.
“Okay, it’s settled. Thanks: Daedo,” Vannier said sweetly beaming at Axel-Zero.
“Is there anything we can do to help?” Axel-Zero asked Daedo suddenly feeling guilty that the trio were doing all the work while the rest of them merely fought, socialised and ate.
“We are on top of things. Thanks,” he replied.
“We will learn more about our mechs so we can do our own repairs, like we do with our exos,” Vannier offered. “We just weren’t ready for this,” she added with a wave indicating all the mechs.
Daedo nodded, “it’s fine! Go spend some time with Cisse. She works so hard, and this is the first time she has come out of her hole in a long while.”
“We have been, but we will go find her now,” Axel-Zero said.
The pair left the Mech Bay working their way through the industrial side of the facility to the spectator side.
Vannier was smiling.
“Don’t rub it in, you got your way,” Axel-Zero said apprehensively. She wasn’t looking forward to facing Dead Beat and damaging one of their own mechs.
“Oh, I wasn’t smiling about that,” Vannier said. “Did you see how Daedo was concerned about Cisse? I think he is growing up.”
Axel-Zero laughed. “He’s only a year younger than us!”
“Mmhmm,” Vannier vocalised an affirmative, “But, he was in a shell not so long ago and now he is negotiating with indigenous communities and thinking about the welfare of his elders.”
“You’ll be out of a job soon!” Axel-Zero laughed at her friend.
“I’m okay with that,” Vannier said smiling. Her artificially coloured red hair bouncing as she walked; her mood was infectious. Axel-Zero couldn’t help but admire her friend. She was kind, but fierce. She was competitive, but gracious. Daedo and Mace were awesome, yet unattainable due to their brilliance. Vannier, on the other hand, was someone Axel-Zero aspired to be like.
“I wish I had your confidence,” she said after a minute of contemplation.
Vannier thought about the statement before answering, “I can’t give it to you; no one can. Do you want my advice?”
“Please!”
“Ignore all evidence, real or imagined. Just believe in yourself. Do your best and make that decision, because it's not a feeling, it's not a talent, it's not a genetic trait. It’s a learned behaviour, and the only way to possess it is to decide; I have done my best, and my best is great.”
“But what if it’s not great?” Axel-Zero asked.
“That’s relative,” Vannier replied, “If you just started a new skill, take Kang for example, a result of achieving the top five hundred in her first week of the obstacle course was great. It’s simple. If you did your best, then it’s great because it's relative to your experience and ability.”
“Wow, I wasn’t expecting a philosophy lecture. But that was more helpful than anything I have studied in the past,” Axel-Zero replied, and they walked on in silence for a few minutes while she let Vannier’s words soak in.
“Fancy meeting you here,” Vannier greeted Picard, Mace and Cisse who were loitering in the cafeteria section of the Svarski stadium.
“Glad you could join us,” Cisse said. “We were just discussing the last round.”
A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
“Who is piloting Old Dawg?” Picard asked, and Vannier pointed to Axel-Zero.
“Good choice,” Picard opined, “I wouldn’t want to fight her.”
Mace chuckled.
“What’s funny?” Cisse asked.
“I just imagined Dead Beat and Mister Kang getting hammered by Axel-Zero in beast mode,” Mace said sheepishly.
Everyone laughed except Axel-Zero who went red.
“Sit, sit!” Cisse ordered.
“Who is going to pilot Eos up against Barran?” Vannier whispered conspiratorially.
She looked from Mace to Picard who looked at each other before Picard replied, “We aren’t sure.”
“You only have an hour to decide,” Vannier stated.
“What do you think?” Mace asked Vannier.
“I don’t think it matters,” Vannier said. “You are both very good and in different ways. Normally I would suggest that Picard knows Barran better, but he is so unpredictable that does not apply in this circumstance.”
“Why don’t you flip a coin? Do you have that app?” Cisse asked before she brought up a screen with a circular disc on it. “One side had a head, and the other side has an image which for some reason is called tails. You tap the app, and it will randomly land on one side. The other person calls heads or tails. If they call correctly, they are the pilot.”
Picard looked at Mace who shrugged, so she proceeded to touch the app, and the virtual disc went up into the air spinning.
“Tails!” Mace called.
The disc landed, and the image showed heads.
“Guess it will be Picard versus Barran,” Cisse said.
Picard sighed and Mace patted her on the back. “It’s fine! No pressure.”
“I will feel bad if I win and I will feel bad if I lose,” Picard said sadly.
“Why will you feel bad if you win?” Cisse asked.
“Because Daedo has not piloted at all, he was relying on Barran to win through to the main tournament,” Picard stated.
“Then lose,” Vannier said shockingly.
“What! I can’t do that!” Picard exclaimed. She was ropable that Vannier would even suggest she throw a match.
“Then stop worrying about it. Do your best and what will be, will be,” Vannier said smiling.
“Oh, you!” Picard said. Her anger subsiding into a smile.
“It’s a pity all four mechs are on one side of the draw,” Cisse observed. They all nodded sadly. The tournament had got to the stage where in order to progress further, it was at the expense of a teammate.
“Since we are guaranteed two mechs through to the main tournament I wonder how many creds we won,” Axel-Zero queried.
Vannier messaged Daedo and got an almost instant reply.
“Wow,” she said, “It depends if Dead Beat gets through. He has the worst odds at four to one. But he said the other three were all over one hundred to one.”
“How much do we win if Old Dawg with one of the Titans gets through?” Axel-Zero asked not wanting to message Daedo again.
“He sent me a table. He bet on over thirty different options,” Vannier said while she studied the document. “Oh!” she said breathlessly, “over two million bitcreds.”
“And that’s just for making the main tournament. There are more bets for progressing into the main, each with higher odds,” Vannier spoke in awe.
“It makes me wonder why we bother with other revenue streams,” Axel-Zero said thoughtfully. “But he did say this was a once off as we will never get these odds again.”
“Poor Ikaros,” Cisse said, and after receiving confused looks, she went on to explain, “It’s all in his name.”
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Axel-Zero faced off against Mister Kang. Old Dawg versus Dead Beat. Daedalus was the nominated manufacturer of both mechs, but the owner of only one.
Vannier watched nervously from the stands which had become progressively more populated on the second day. And now, at the last hurdle, they were at half capacity. Tomorrow she would have to watch a stream as the stadium had been sold out for months.
Mace, Cisse, Jeram and Kang were with her. Picard and Barran were up next, while Daedo and Ikaros would watch a stream from the Mech Bay.
Jeram looked to Vannier, slightly confused, “Who do I barrack for?”
Mace shrugged.
Vannier looked towards Kang and then back to Jeram, “I would advise you stay neutral and be happy for the winner.”
Jeram nodded at the wise words.
Kang showed visible signs of nervousness, including biting her nails. Her normal bravado evaporated as she dreaded both winning and losing for different reasons. If Dead Beat wins, she will be piloting in the first-round tomorrow.
Vannier sat in the middle of the group and could feel the expectation rise as the two mechs approached each other.
“She’s going to do it, isn’t she?” Mace said quietly. She was to Vannier’s left, while Jeram was to the right.
Vannier did not respond audibly; she merely nodded once.
She heard someone scream, ‘Old Dawg!’ from the crowd and it wasn’t someone from their group. He sounded like he burst a lung. Her entire group turned to look at the spectator who suddenly became self-conscious. He was wearing black and red, the Daedalus and Old Dawg’s colours.
“Japanese guys are into their mechs,” Jeram observed.
“Watch,” Vannier said as they clashed.
True to form, Axel-Zero was not holding back. She didn’t bother with any defensive tactics or moves. Old Dawg charged into Dead Beat and started to wail with his fists.
The crowd went wild. Old Dawg was becoming very popular.
“Smash em Old Dawg!” another Japanese male screamed.
“Limit Break! Old Dawg!” A chant began with six spectators.
Kang began to twitch in her chair. No one was calling for Dead Beat. Everyone was calling out Old Dawg.
Cisse patted her on the shoulder and spoke soothingly, “It’s only because he or she goes wild.” She turned to Vannier, “How does that work? Do I call Old Dawg a he when he has a female pilot?”
Vannier nodded but didn’t want to take her eyes off the action.
Axel-Zero was hitting Dead Beat five times for every blow she received in return. Mister Kang tried to block at first, but she just damaged his arms, arms which he needed. Then he tried to weave while counterattacking and that strategy didn’t work either. Axel-Zero was like a guided missile pounding away at Dead Beat’s torso and shoulders.
Dead Beat tried to withdraw, but for every step he took back or to the side, Old Dawg followed. Axel-Zero was like a dog with a bone. There was no escape for Dead Beat, and he either fought back, or he would lose. Mister Kang could not rely on armour superiority this time. The two mechs had the same composites.
Old Dawg had hit Dead Beat’s right shoulder seven times, and on the eighth a crack became visible. When Dead Beat threw his next desperate punch, Old Dawg grabbed his arm with both hands.
Old Dawg began to pull on the arm attached to the damaged shoulder. The crack widened; sparks sprayed as he began to run backwards while holding the arm. Old Dawg yanked on it viciously several times while pulling Dead Beat around.
Dead Beat almost fell forward but managed to keep his footing. Old Dawg was ferocious, when Dead Beat was unbalanced, he changed direction circling behind Dead Beat. The arm bent at an odd angle, and with a gigantic crack reverberating throughout the stadium, it came off.
The majority Japanese male crowd went wild.
Vannier imagined that if Old Dawg had a mouth, he would have put the arm in it.
Any other mech would have dropped the arm and pressed home the advantage until the other mech surrendered.
Old Dawg began to beat Dead Beat with his own arm, swinging it like a club.
The spectator behind began to cry. Vannier couldn’t help but turn around. He was standing both hands in the air and tears flowing from his face.
“Old Dawg, Old Dawg, I love you!” he wailed.
“I think it would be best if Old Dawg wins. He has more fans,” Jeram opined and was ignored. That match was over. Dead Beat had surrendered.
“Oh, heck!” Vannier said as Axel-Zero continued to hit Dead Beat with his own arm. She put on her helmet and got on her direct comms to Axel-Zero.
“Stop! Stop!” She yelled. “Axel-Zero it's over, he has surrendered.”
After a few more hits, Axel-Zero finally stopped.
“We are really going to need to install a remote disabler into Old Dawg,’ Vannier told her partner who breathed heavily in response.
“We won?” Axel-Zero asked.
“You’re kidding?” Vannier asked in return. “How could you not know you won?”
“I thought we won but I was worried I would be disqualified for using the arm or for not stopping,” Axel-Zero replied softly. She had returned to her normal self.
“That remains to be seen. I will check the rules now. I didn’t think I’d need to memorise them,” Vannier replied.
There were possible penalties which usually presented as fines for continuing to fight after a match had been decided or halted. The removal and use of your own mech’s parts was prohibited, but it was silent when it came to using the opposition’s mech parts.
The stands became aflutter with activity, and all of the talk involved Old Dawg: his history, his performance, and his magnificent fighting style.
The Daedalus members were glad some of the fans were dressing in black and red. It made their bodysuits labelled with Daedalus stand out less. Most people assumed they were fans of Old Dawg as well.
As fan after fan walked past the group, they recognised the black and red. They cheered, “Old Dawg,” and followed up with a fist pump or a hand gesture indicating approval.
It was too much for Kang who put her head in her hands. There were no words of consolation which would deliver her from the trauma of what she had just witnessed.
It only took five minutes for the arena to be prepared for the next match.
Two charcoal mechs walked out onto the arena. They were almost identical. When they fought other mechs, it was easy to discern the unique frame and dark colours. But now the two Daedalus mechs stood opposite one another and the only distinguishing factor was the distinctive twirling red lines.
Titan Eos’ red lines formed flower-like patterns, and on her back, a semi-circle sat atop a thick red line which ran from one side of her back to the other. It symbolised the rising sun, as Eos was the Greek goddess of the dawn.
Titan Hyperion had a much more subdued red pattern embellishing his matte dark grey finish. The elegant lines flowed naturally highlighting his armour seams and structure. Barran’s contribution to the design was the fists. They looked to be covered with blood. The hands were encased with Daedalus red which tapered off artistically as the colour blended into the dark grey of the arm.
“Who will win this one?” Jeram asked no one in particular so he received no reply.