The bustling sounds of machinery and chattering of mech techs were muted, pushed into the background as Vega cleared her mind of any distractions. She had held her eyes shut for a few minutes, but it was only now that she was able to truly focus her mind enough to retreat into the sanctuary within, her senses completely attuned to the blissful silence and darkness of her own little world.

She could feel her heartbeat slow and relax as well, her body now joining her mind in this state of zen. Every breath she took was measured and deliberate, her lungs swelling and emptying at a steady pace; it was a ritual she had done countless times before, but had only mastered recently.

"Captain."

A voice shook her from her trance, and the tranquil darkness melted away as she opened her eyes. She was back in the real world, back in the bay of the dropship, sitting in her mech with the cockpit hatch open. A pair of mech techs were dutifully performing their checks on her mech, but they weren't the ones that had called for her.

"Captain, sorry." Before her stood Specialist Lance, a gangly young pilot with messy blond hair and dressed in an even grubbier jumpsuit. His tall, thin frame made it seem as if his jumpsuit was wearing him instead, rather than vice versa. "I-I didn't know you were-"

"It's alright, Lance." Vega leaned forward, feeling her other senses slowly come back. "What is it?"

"The LT wanted me to let you know, everyone's kitted up and ready." Lance stumbled a bit as the entire dropship shuddered, grabbing onto Vega's mech. The two techs didn't even react to the turbulence, nor did Vega. "He says we'll be over the drop zone in five minutes."

"Perfect. Thank you." Vega sat back in her chair, closing her eyes to try to return to her world; still, she could feel Lance continue to stand in front of her. "Is there something else I can do for you, Specialist?"

"N-no, captain," Lance stammered. "It's-it's just..." He eyed the mech she sat in, the bipedal titan towering over him. "I... I just still can't believe I was assigned to your unit."

Vega opened her eyes and cracked a faint smile. "Yeah, well, it's the real deal, private. You weren't assigned; you were chosen. I selected you because your file was impressive."

It was a lie, of course; Lance was assigned to her unit, another hasty replacement for the heavy losses incurred by the war. Still, it was a story she chose to perpetuate, if not to ease the newbies' worries, then for her own conscience; it was a story she had told too many times before.

Some either saw through her lie, or chose to remain in disbelief; others, like Lance thankfully, gobbled it up whole and were awestruck by their newfound elite status. They were now a part of company 417, Captain Vega's Drop Shockers, one of the most famous outfits within the United Earth Nation's forces.

Vega wished she had the luxury of choosing replacements; the war's direction had other ideas.

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She could still remember the war's outbreak eight years prior, when the Frontier Alliance had formed on the colony worlds and declared their secession from UEN control. Every media broadcast and social networking nexus had been flooded with this news, with reactions varying wildly from world to world.

The response from UEN officials had been swift: unacceptable. The colony worlds held too much economic and cultural value to simply let go; a United Earth Nations' expeditionary force was immediately mustered to quell this uprising and bring these worlds back into the fold.

She was still a corporal then, a young and doe-eyed reservist watching from the sidelines as most of her friends and comrades were selected for the expeditionary force. Her mentor, Captain Luther, was among them.

"It's not fair," she had said, pouting as Luther packed what little he had into his satchel. "I should be going with you. You're still training me, after all!"

"Orders are orders, kid," he laughed, patting her head. "Besides, I've taught almost everything I know, anyway."

"Almost everything?" Vega raised her brow. "So that means I'm coming with, then?"

"Nope." Luther tied up his satchel and tossed it over his shoulder. "You are going to stay here and watch after my goldfish while I'm gone. Captain Summers is still trying to nab them, so keep sharp."

"Oh, come on!" Vega followed him out of his room and down the hall, dodging a few NCOs saluting the captain. "Surely you can talk to the major about letting me tag along? I've got my things ready to go, anyway, and-"

"Drop it, Elena." Luther's voice was sharp now, without any hint of the playfulness earlier. He had turned around, his eyes narrowed.

Vega stopped, standing to attention by reflex; Luther wasn't speaking as her mentor anymore, but as her superior officer.

"At ease." Luther's expression and tone softened. "I know you want to go, but you are needed here. Like I said before, I've taught you almost everything I know, but not everything. You're not ready, not yet."

"Then when will I?" Vega felt tears of frustration stinging at her eyes; she felt like a child being admonished. "Who's going to watch your back out there?"

"Plenty of other guys who are much more trained and experienced than you, kiddo." Luther tousled her head again, messing up the neatly wound uniform-regulation bun beneath her cap. "And you'll be more ready once you're back in uniform code." He winked, turning to go.

Vega couldn't help but smile; still, the tears were flowing freely now, not of frustration, but of watching her mentor and guardian leave. It was only when she began to fix her hair again that she felt it: a heavy challenge coin, Luther's lucky piece sneakily stuffed into her cap.

"You hold on to that for me, kiddo," Luther said, his back to her, "My luck is in your hands. I expect it back when I return."

An alarm klaxon jerked Vega back into the present. The bay was lit red now, indicating they were sixty seconds out from the drop zone; techs and pilots were scrambling to their mechs and standby stations. Lance was frozen, his eyes as wide as dinner plates.

"Get to your mech, specialist." Vega strapped herself into her chair, pulling her pilot's helmet over her head.

Lance continued to stand rooted to the spot; it was obvious this was his first drop, and his nerves were winning the battle within him.

Vega popped open her visor, revealing her face to him one last time. She needed to give him one last push, to give him the last lie that everyone else before him had readily accepted without question.

"It's gonna be alright! Stick by me, and you'll make it!"

Lance seemed visibly relieved by this, and dutifully trotted away to his own mech.

Vega closed her visor and pulled the hatch shut, the mech's display systems coming online.

She wished it had come online a second later, to spare her the final glance Lance gave her before he buttoned up in his own mech.