Jackie Stewart sat on a low concrete wall, her helmet resting in her lap, fingers tracing its rim absentmindedly. The sky above was a dull, oppressive gray mirroring the heavy weight in her chest. Around her, the rest of her squad shuffled about, silent, the fatigue and frustration palpable in the air. They had fought to Point K, pushed to their limits, only to be sidelined when they arrived. Now, they were nothing more than glorified laborers.

Her mecha—the *Chimera*—was gone. Reassigned. Stripped from her and handed over to some officer in the regular guard. It wasn’t a surprise. She knew it would likely happen when they reached Point K. But the knowledge didn’t make it sting any less.

The *Chimera* was more than just a machine. It was hers. A custom hybrid of salvaged parts, blending speed, firepower, and adaptability in a way that no standard-issue mecha could match. And now? Now, it was in the hands of some officer who probably wouldn’t even understand what made it special.

“Stewart,” a familiar voice called, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Corporal Felix Santos strode over, his face smeared with dirt and exhaustion. He dropped down beside her, letting out a long, heavy sigh. “You hear the latest?”

Jackie didn’t look at him, her gaze fixed on the horizon. “If it’s about the *Chimera*, I don’t want to hear it.”

Felix gave a bitter chuckle. “Pogue One strikes again. The general's got the regulars riding high, and we're stuck in the mud. Literally.”

They had a nickname for General Patton, the head officer of this entire operation—*Pogue One*. The man was more concerned with protocol, hierarchy, and keeping his superiors happy than with the soldiers on the ground. And now, thanks to him, Jackie’s Chimera was in the hands of a desk jockey.

Jackie clenched her fists, knuckles white against the metal of her helmet. “I didn’t even get to say goodbye. Just a message from Command: ‘Your squad is being reassigned to support duties. Mech reassigned to Officer Danner.’” Her voice was thick with bitterness. “Officer Danner.”

Felix shook his head. “Danner’s never seen a real fight in his life. The guy probably thinks combat is something you read about in reports. And now he’s got *your* Chimera? What a joke.”

Jackie finally looked at him, her jaw set. “He won’t be able to handle her. The Chimera’s too complex for a guy like that. One wrong move, and she’ll lock up. I spent months tweaking her systems. She’s an animal, not some piece of factory-standard hardware.”

Private Mei Tanaka wandered over, wiping her hands with a grease-stained rag. Her dark eyes were sunken, a sign of the fatigue that had settled over all of them. “Stewart, you hear anything from Command? Anything at all?”

“Nothing worth hearing,” Jackie muttered. “We’re stuck on guard duty, supply runs, and maybe the odd rescue op if we’re lucky.”

“Lucky?” Mei let out a hollow laugh. “Last rescue op we got sent on nearly turned into a death sentence. We didn’t fight our way to Point K to play babysitter to civilians and lug crates around.”

"Yeah," Felix grunted. "Pogue One doesn’t give a damn. We’re muscle to him, and that’s it. All those ops, all that fighting, and now we’re running errands.”

Jackie shook her head, still trying to shake off the feeling of betrayal. The chimera felt like it was a part of her, every system, every piece of armor she had studded and mapped. Fast, versatile, with a blend of long-range missile capabilities, a modified energy rifle. It wasn’t just her weapon—it was her partner on the battlefield. And now it was gone.

“We didn’t just survive out there,” Jackie said, her voice low but hard, “we dominated. We fought our way to Point K, held off waves of enemies, and ensured civilians got out alive, and this is what we get for it? Guard duty. Moving crates like we’re cargo haulers. The Chimera was the only reason we made it through half those skirmishes.”

Mei threw her rag down in frustration. “We deserve better than this. You deserve better, Stewart.”

Jackie’s fingers tightened around her helmet, her eyes burning with barely restrained anger. “I don’t care if Pogue One thinks we’re disposable. We earned our place in this fight.”

“Damn right we did,” Felix said, standing up and kicking a stray piece of rubble. “But the brass don’t care. We're just the backup dancers as long as they’ve got their precious regulars up front.”

Jackie looked around at her squad. Felix, Mei, and the others—soldiers who had been with her through the worst of it, who had fought, bled, and survived side by side. They deserved better than this.

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“We’re not done,” Jackie said, her voice hardening as she stood. “Not by a long shot. Do they want to bench us? Fine. We’ll play their game for now. But the next time they need us, the next time things get bad, they’re going to call us in. And when that happens, we’ll be ready.”

Mei looked at her with a faint smile, though the exhaustion still weighed heavy in her eyes. “You really think they’ll send us back out there?”

Jackie’s gaze darkened. “Oh, they will. They always do. When the chips are down, and they’re out of options, we’re the ones they call. And when they do, I’ll ensure the Chimera returns to me.”

Felix grinned, though it was more grim determination than amusement. “Now that’s the Jackie Stewart I know. Screw Danner and screw Pogue One. We’ll be back on the front soon enough.”

“Yeah,” Jackie said, picking up her gear. “And when we are, we’ll remind them why they should’ve never sidelined us in the first place.”

Mei cracked her knuckles, nodding in agreement. “In the meantime, I guess it’s back to babysitting supplies and moving crates.”

Felix groaned. “Great. More manual labor. Exactly what I signed up for.”

Jackie smirked despite herself. “Think of it as a workout. Don’t throw your back out before we get back in the fight.”

The squad chuckled, a bit of light cutting through the gloom. They were tired, frustrated, and angry but were still a unit. And as long as they stuck together, Jackie knew they could survive anything.

Even the endless bureaucracy.

***

Inside the officers' briefing room, the tension was thick. The sound of boots scraping against the concrete floor echoed as officers moved about, shuffling papers and reviewing maps. The hum of the overhead lights did little to cut through the frustration hanging in the air.

Captain Brice leaned over the central table, staring at the latest orders. His face was flushed with barely controlled anger as he slammed his fist against the table. “Why the hell does the general want to protect the cadets?” he growled, eyes scanning the room, daring someone to answer him. “We need them out there. They’ve got the training and skills—we’re sitting on gold and being told to guard it like it’s fragile glass.”

Across from him, Lieutenant Voss, a seasoned officer with a few gray hairs peeking through his otherwise dark hair, folded his arms and shook his head. “It’s not about their fragility. It’s strategy.” His voice was calm, but there was a sharp edge to it. “Danner and the others? They’re more expendable. The cadets? They’ve got more skill and better potential.”

Captain Brice sneered, leaning closer. “Expendable? Danner’s a walking disaster waiting to happen, and you know it. Hell, Stewart’s Chimera should never have been handed over to him in the first place. He barely knows how to pilot it, let alone fight in it.”

Voss sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I don’t like it any more than you do., But I’m guessing Pogue One—" he rolled his eyes at the nickname the lower ranks had given General Patton "—has some kind of plan. General Patton’s been quiet, but you don’t shuffle around pieces like this unless you’ve got a bigger picture in mind.”

Brice leaned back, his hands on his hips. “Bigger picture? What bigger picture could justify pulling the cadets from the front lines when we’re hemorrhaging manpower out there?”

Voss straightened up and walked toward the window, looking out at the vast base expanse, the haze of smoke from distant battle lingering on the horizon. “I don’t know, Brice. But Patton’s never been one to waste talent. These cadets… they’re different. They’re not just cannon fodder. Maybe Pogue One’s orders are coming from higher up than we realize.”

“Different?” Brice scoffed, running a hand through his short-cropped hair. “They’re a bunch of snot-nosed kids who got lucky in their training simulations. What good are they if they don’t get their hands dirty in the real fight?”

Voss turned back to face him, eyes narrowing. “Those ‘snot-nosed kids’ are the future of this war. We send them into the meat grinder now and lose the best we’ve got before they’ve even had a chance to hit their stride. Meanwhile, we’ve got plenty of replaceable officers like Danner.”

Brice looked away, his jaw tightening. “And in the meantime, we’re supposed to rely on officers like him while the real talent sits on the bench?”

Voss’s expression softened slightly. “I know it’s a bitter pill to swallow. But I trust General Patton knows what he’s doing. He’s been in this longer than any of us. As for Pogue Two…” He let the words hang, his tone laced with doubt.

Brice let out a bitter laugh. “Yeah, well, forgive me if I don’t put much stock in Pogue Two’s ‘strategy.’ He’s more interested in keeping his record clean than winning battles.”

Another officer, Lieutenant Harper, silently listening from the corner, stepped forward. She was sharp, no-nonsense, and had a reputation for cutting through the BS in the room. “Look, Brice, Voss is right about one thing—this isn’t just about what’s happening right now. The cadets are being groomed for something bigger. It doesn’t take a genius to see that.”

Brice raised an eyebrow. “Groomed for what?”

Harper shrugged. “Hell, if I know. But you’ve seen the data, the reports. Those kids are piloting circles around the rest of us in training. If they’re being held back, they’re being saved for something… something important.”

Brice shook his head, frustration etched into every line of his face. “Important or not, this war doesn’t wait. We need boots on the ground, mechs in the field, and pilots who know how to fight, not just fly simulations.”

Harper shot him a pointed look. “And if we send them out too early, we lose everything they could become. Patton’s playing the long game. You should know that by now.”

Brice exhaled sharply, leaning back against the table, arms crossed. “Fine. But when Danner screws up—again—and we start losing more than mechs, I hope Patton’s plan is worth the price.”

Voss looked back at the horizon, his voice low and resigned. “It better be.”