The alarms had barely died down from the last assault when the command center erupted in a new flurry of activity. General Patton’s voice boomed across the comms, calling for status updates as data streams lit up the central holo-table. The remaining Iron Tide forces on the eastern front were faltering, but as more reports came in, a grim realization took hold.
“This wasn’t their main push,” Patton growled, his sharp eyes scanning the tactical displays. “It’s a damn diversion.”
An aide looked up from her console. “Sir, we’ve confirmed enemy movement westward—large formations advancing on the capital. They’re bypassing the defenses entirely.”
Patton slammed his fist on the table, his jaw tight with frustration. “Damn it. They’ve been bleeding us dry on the eastern front while positioning for the real strike.”
“Orders, General?” asked a captain nearby.
Patton turned, his voice sharp. “Shift the reserves from the south. I want all remaining heavy units on a forced march to the capital. Logistics will have to catch up. We hold Prescott City or we lose everything. Notify Kovacs to prep any experimental units he’s been working on. We’re going to need every advantage we can get.”
***
The workshop buzzed with frantic energy, tools clattering and voices shouting over the distant rumble of alarms. Kovacs strode through the chaos, his ICN helmet tucked under his arm. His face was lined with exhaustion, but his mind raced with purpose. The forced march from the south had bought time, but not enough. The Iron Tide’s primary force was bearing down on Prescott’s capital, and the colony’s defenses were stretched to the breaking point.
The tactical reports displayed on the console only deepened the grim reality. Red markers swarmed across the holographic map, representing the enemy’s relentless advance. Kovacs leaned heavily on the console, his fingers gripping its edges as his eyes darted over the data.
“They’re cutting it too close,” he muttered under his breath. “If they breach the city, we’re finished.”
The familiar sound of Mira’s boots clanging on the metal floor pulled him from his thoughts. She jogged up, her face flushed and her breaths coming in short bursts from the effort of coordinating the team. “We’re hearing this is it, Kovacs,” she said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. “Do we have anything—anything—that can turn the tide?”
Kovacs straightened and motioned toward a large, draped shape dominating the center of the workshop. The edges of its silhouette hinted at something massive and powerful. “We do,” he said, his voice steady but tinged with a weight he couldn’t shake. “But it’s untested.”
Mira raised an eyebrow as she followed him to the machine. Kovacs stopped at its base and gripped the edge of the tarp. He hesitated for a moment, then pulled it away in one sharp motion.
The machine beneath was a towering colossus of angular armor and bristling weaponry. Its lines were sleek yet functional, its design emphasizing raw power and utility. The mech’s designation, M60, was painted in bold letters across its chest, standing out like a promise of destruction.
Mira’s eyes widened as she took in the sight. “Holy hell, Kovacs. What is this?”
“The M-Sixty” Kovacs began, stepping closer to the mech. His voice was calm, though a flicker of pride crept into his tone. “It’s built for this kind of fight. Heavily armed, heavily armored, and incorporating advanced techniques Ilara helped develop. The core engine uses Prescott’s rare elements, boosting efficiency far beyond anything we’ve built before. That allows it to carry more firepower than anything else we have.”
Mira circled the mech, her hands on her hips as she inspected its design. “You’re telling me this thing is field-ready?”
Kovacs glanced at the console, where its systems were running their final diagnostics. “It’s as ready as it’s going to get in the time we have.”
Mira paused in front of one of the weapon mounts, her fingers tracing the contours of the gauss cannon. “What’s the loadout?”
“A long-range heavy gauss cannon to punch through anything at a distance,” Kovacs explained, gesturing to the weapons. “Sperry autocannon for sustained mid-range fire, and integrated close-range lasers to make sure nothing gets too close.”
“It’s a tank on legs,” Mira muttered, her tone equal parts awe and disbelief.
“That’s the idea,” Kovacs said. “The M-sixty is designed to break the enemy’s formation and hold the line. It’s the first of its kind.”
Mira glanced at him. “So, who’s piloting it? Because unless it’s you, I don’t think anyone’s going to know how to handle this thing.”
Kovacs hesitated, his gaze lingering on the M60’s cockpit. The machine was more than a weapon—it was a culmination of his efforts, his designs, and his hope for Prescott’s survival. He tapped his comm unit and spoke with quiet conviction.
“Jackie,” he said. “She’s the only one I trust to make this work.”
Mira blinked. “Jackie? She’s good, but this is a hell of a gamble, Kovacs. Are you sure?”
Kovacs met her gaze, his voice firm. “She knows how to push a mech to its limits. If anyone can figure this out on the fly, it’s her.”
***
Jackie was mid-repair on her Goblin when her comm buzzed. She tapped her helmet, her face streaked with sweat and grime. “Stewart here.”
“Jackie, it’s Kovacs,” came the reply. His voice carried an urgency she hadn’t heard before. “We’ve got a situation. The capital’s under threat, and I’ve got something that might turn the tide.”
Jackie straightened, narrowing her eyes. “Let me guess—another prototype?”
“Not just any prototype,” Kovacs said. “It’s heavily armed, heavily armored, and unlike anything you’ve piloted before. But it’s untested.”
“Untested,” Jackie repeated, wiping her forehead. “And you want me to take it into a live battlefield? You’re really piling on the pressure here, Kovacs.”
“I wouldn’t ask if I didn’t think you could do it,” he replied, his voice calm but insistent. “This thing is built for this fight, and you’re the best we’ve got. I need you in that cockpit.”
Jackie exhaled, the weight of the request settling over her. Finally, she nodded, determination hardening her voice. “Alright, I’ll take it. But if this thing falls apart on me, you’re the first person I’m haunting.”
“Noted,” Kovacs said with a faint chuckle. “Get to the workshop. It’s ready.”
***
The workshop’s heavy doors groaned open, and the sound of screeching metal and thundering footsteps filled the air. Everyone turned to look as Jackie’s Goblin barreled into the hangar at full speed, its armor scarred and still smoking from its last engagement. The mech skidded to a halt just shy of the assembly floor, its left arm swinging dangerously close to one of the scaffolds. Sparks flew as the Goblin’s damaged systems struggled to shut down.
Jackie leapt from the cockpit before the Goblin fully powered down, using an emergency rappel line to descend in a single fluid motion. She hit the ground at a sprint, ripping off her helmet as she stormed toward Kovacs. Her face was streaked with soot and sweat, her short hair plastered to her forehead, and her eyes burned with a mix of fury and determination.
“You better have something damn good waiting for me, Kovacs!” she barked, her voice carrying over the din of the workshop. “Because whatever those bastards are rolling out there? It’s bigger, meaner, and twice as nasty as anything we’ve seen.”
Kovacs stepped forward, unfazed by her dramatic entrance. “You’re just in time,” he said, motioning toward the partially tarp-covered mech in the center of the workshop. “I’ve got exactly what you need.”
Jackie’s boots thudded against the metal floor as she followed him, her sharp gaze flicking toward the massive machine. The tarp still covered most of it, but the silhouette alone was enough to make her pause.
“This better not be another science project,” she said, planting her hands on her hips as she caught her breath. “I’m not in the mood for experimental scrap.”
Without a word, Kovacs grabbed the edge of the tarp and yanked it off with a flourish. The M60 stood revealed, its angular armor catching the harsh lights of the workshop. Its massive frame bristled with weaponry, the autocannon mounted on its shoulder gleaming like instruments of war. The entire mech radiated power and menace, a stark contrast to the battered Goblins around it.
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Jackie let out a low whistle, her earlier frustration giving way to a grudging smile. “Well, hell. Look at this beast.”
“The M60,” Kovacs said, stepping up beside her. His voice carried a mix of pride and urgency. “Heavily armed, heavily armored, and built for this fight. It’s designed to break formations, punch through the heaviest opposition, and keep moving.”
She circled the mech, her eyes narrowing as she took in its details. “What’s under the hood?”
“Gauss cannon for long-range, dual autocannons for sustained mid-range fire, and close-range lasers to keep anything from getting too close,” Kovacs explained, handing her a datapad. “The engine is optimized with Prescott’s rare elements. More power, less weight. You won’t find anything like it anywhere else.”
Jackie smirked as she scanned the specs. “So, you’ve basically built me a walking war crime! I like it.”
Kovacs let out a short laugh, though his expression remained serious. “It’s untested in the field, but it’s our best shot. I trust you to push it to its limits.”
She tossed the datapad back to him and started climbing the M60’s access ladder. “I don’t do limits,” she said, pulling herself into the cockpit. “Let’s see what this thing can do.”
As the hatch closed around her, the M60’s systems powered up, bathing the cockpit in a soft blue glow. The HUD was more advanced than anything Jackie had used before, its displays sharp and intuitive. She gripped the joysticks, feeling the machine respond with a precision and fluidity that made her Goblin seem clunky by comparison.
“This is... different,” she muttered, her smirk widening. “In a good way.”
Below, Kovacs watched intently, his arms crossed. “You’re about to show the Iron Tide what happens when you push Prescott too far. Make it count, Jackie.”
Her voice crackled over the comms, sharp and confident. “Always.”
The M60’s engines roared as it stepped forward, its massive frame shaking the ground. Jackie turned the mech toward the exit, her grin feral as she prepared to head into battle. The workshop doors began to open, revealing the chaos of the battlefield beyond.
“Time to remind them whose planet this is,” she said, and with that, the M60 surged into the fray.
***
The capital was a cauldron of chaos as Jackie stepped into the cockpit of the M60. The familiar hum of the machine powering up vibrated through her body, but the advanced HUD and the sheer responsiveness of the controls made it clear this was unlike anything she’d piloted before. Data streamed across the displays—enemy positions, allied movements, and the M60’s own system readouts—all calibrated for precision.
“Let’s see what you’ve got, M60,” she muttered, gripping the joysticks tightly, her voice steady despite the turmoil outside.
“Kovacs,” she said into the comms, her tone sharp, “I’m in position. What’s my objective?”
“Punch through their forward line,” came Kovacs’s reply, his voice carrying the controlled urgency of someone who knew how much was at stake. “The M60’s firepower can break their momentum. We’ll use that opening to push them back and secure the capital. Just hold nothing back.”
Jackie’s lips curved into a faint grin. “You know me, Kovacs. All or nothing.”
The M60 strode onto the battlefield, its heavy steps sending shockwaves through the churned earth. The Iron Tide’s forces surged forward, their mechs swarming like angry hornets, a chaotic mass of steel and fire. Jackie’s targeting system locked onto the lead units, and with a squeeze of the trigger, the gauss cannons roared to life. The shot streaked across the battlefield, tearing through an enemy mech in a single, thunderous strike, leaving a smoking crater where it had stood.
“Damn,” Jackie muttered with a grin. “This thing’s got teeth.”
She pushed the M60 forward, the dual autocannons roaring as they shredded lighter units in her path. Enemy fire rained down on her from multiple angles, but the M60’s reinforced armor absorbed the punishment, its shields flaring but holding strong. For the first time in the battle, Prescott’s forces began to push back, rallying behind the sight of the M60 carving a path through the chaos.
“Jackie,” Kovacs’s voice crackled over the comms, “you’ve got incoming—something big.”
Her HUD flashed with a warning, highlighting a massive enemy mech emerging from the smoke. It was a towering machine, larger than any of the Iron Tide units she’d encountered so far. Its black and crimson paint gleamed menacingly under the glow of the fires raging around it, and its frame bristled with heavy weaponry. This wasn’t just another mech—it was the enemy commander’s personal unit.
Jackie clenched her teeth, her grip tightening on the controls. “Target acquired,” she muttered. “Let’s finish this.”
The enemy commander’s voice crackled over an open channel, dripping with disdain. “You think one mech will save you? Prescott will burn, and your so-called resistance will fall.”
Jackie smirked, locking onto the enemy unit. “Talk’s cheap. Let’s see how you handle this.”
The two machines clashed with earth-shaking force. Jackie unleashed the M60’s close-range lasers, their beams carving deep gouges into the enemy’s armor. But the commander’s mech countered with a flurry of missiles and autocannon fire, hammering the M60 relentlessly. Alarms blared in the cockpit as the armor strained to absorb the hits, warning lights flashing across her HUD.
The commander’s voice cut through the comms again, mocking. “You’ve got power, but no finesse. You’re outmatched.”
“Keep talking,” Jackie muttered through gritted teeth. She fired the gauss cannon, the shot grazing the enemy mech’s shoulder and tearing off one of its missile pods. The commander’s mech staggered but quickly recovered, its heavy frame surging forward to slam into the M60 with a crushing melee strike. Jackie’s cockpit lurched violently, and her head slammed against the side of her helmet.
“Hold together,” she whispered to the M60, her fingers flying over the controls as she brought it back into a defensive stance. She countered with the autocannons, the burst-fire rounds tearing into the commander’s left leg, forcing it to falter. The M60’s targeting systems recalibrated instantly, highlighting a weak point in the enemy’s exposed knee joint.
Jackie seized the opportunity, pivoting the M60 and firing another laser burst. The beams sliced through the joint, and the commander’s mech dropped to one knee, its mobility severely hampered.
But the enemy wasn’t done. The commander deployed a drone swarm from the mech’s rear compartments, the small, fast-moving units swarming around Jackie like metal wasps. The drones peppered the M60 with suppressive fire, targeting its sensors and weapon mounts.
“Dammit!” Jackie growled, her fingers dancing over the controls as she triggered the M60’s countermeasures. Flares burst from the mech’s frame, disorienting the drones long enough for her to take aim with the autocannons. One by one, the drones exploded in fiery bursts, but not before several rounds struck critical points on the M60’s armor.
“Jackie, status?” Kovacs’s voice came through, tense but steady.
“Still kicking,” she replied, her voice tight with focus. “But this bastard doesn’t go down easy.”
The commander’s mech rose unsteadily, its damaged leg sparking but still functional. It leveled a massive railgun at Jackie, the weapon’s barrel glowing with an ominous charge.
“Oh, no you don’t,” Jackie snarled. She triggered the M60’s gauss cannons, firing as she dashed sideways to avoid the shot. Her round slammed into the railgun, shattering it in a shower of sparks. The enemy mech staggered again, its primary weapon destroyed.
Jackie pressed the advantage, closing the distance as the M60’s targeting system locked onto the commander’s central power core. The enemy mech lashed out in desperation, its close-range flamethrower igniting in a sweeping arc. Heat washed over the M60, melting part of its left shoulder armor, but Jackie didn’t waver.
“Enough,” she growled, lining up the final shot. The gauss cannon fired point-blank, punching through the enemy mech’s core. The machine convulsed as its systems failed, collapsing in a smoking heap. The commander’s voice cut off mid-taunt, leaving only the crackle of fire and the hum of the M60’s systems.
Jackie slumped back in her seat, her breath coming in ragged gasps. “Kovacs,” she said, her voice cracking slightly, “enemy commander neutralized.”
On the other end, Kovacs exhaled audibly, his relief palpable. “Hell of a job, Jackie. Prescott owes you one.”
Jackie grinned weakly, her gaze drifting to the horizon, where the remaining Iron Tide forces began to scatter in disarray. “They can pay me back later,” she muttered. “Right now, I need a drink.”
The M60 stood tall amidst the wreckage, a battered but victorious monument to Prescott’s defiance
***
As the enemy retreated, Jackie stood atop the M60, her silhouette framed against the smoldering battlefield. The mech’s armor was scorched and battered, the once-pristine plating marred by dents and carbon scoring, but it still stood tall—a testament to its resilience. Jackie wiped a streak of soot from her face with a trembling hand, her breaths coming in slow, uneven gulps as adrenaline finally began to wane. Around her, the battlefield was eerily quiet, the cacophony of war replaced by the faint crackle of fires and the distant sound of retreating engines.
From the haze, Kovacs emerged, his steps hurried but uncertain, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. His face was streaked with grime, his clothes stained with oil and ash from the workshop, but his eyes were fixed on Jackie. Relief and exhaustion played across his features in equal measure.
“You did it,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. He stopped a few feet away, as if the moment required distance to fully sink in. “You actually did it.”
Jackie turned to him, a faint grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. “We did it,” she corrected, her voice hoarse but steady. She patted the side of the M60, the sound ringing dully against its scarred armor. “This beast of yours carried me through. You should be proud, Kovacs.”
Kovacs looked up at the towering mech, his gaze lingering on the damage it had sustained. The M60 had exceeded every expectation, but seeing it in this state—worn and battered from battle—differed from seeing it on a workshop platform. It was no longer a theoretical masterpiece; it was a survivor, just like the people of Prescott.
“I am,” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the faint wind carrying smoke and ash across the battlefield. “But I can’t stop thinking about how close we came.”
Jackie stepped down from the M60, her boots hitting the ground with a thud. She crossed the short distance between them, her presence grounding him. “Close doesn’t matter. We’re still here. Prescott’s still here. That’s what counts.”
Kovacs nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly as the weight of the past hours settled on him. His gaze drifted back to the M60, its frame silhouetted against the faint light of dawn breaking through the smoke. “Let’s just hope we don’t need to use it again anytime soon.”
Jackie followed his gaze, her expression softening. The horizon glowed with the first rays of sunlight, casting the wreckage around them in a surreal, golden light. She reached out, clapping Kovacs on the shoulder with a weary but genuine smile.
“One battle at a time, Kovacs,” she said quietly. “One battle at a time.”
For a moment, they stood there in silence, two figures amidst the ruins of a hard-won victory. Around them, the remnants of Prescott’s forces began to regroup, moving through the wreckage to salvage what they could. The M60 loomed in the background, a symbol of defiance and resilience, its presence a reminder of what they had overcome—and what still lay ahead.
As Jackie turned to rejoin her squad, Kovacs watched her go, a flicker of pride and gratitude in his eyes. He wasn’t a soldier, and he never would be, but in that moment, he understood his role more clearly than ever. The machines he built weren’t just weapons—they were lifelines, carrying the hopes of the people who depended on them.
And for Jackie, and for Prescott, he’d keep building. No matter how many battles it took.