The aftermath of the battle had left the air thick with ash and the bitter tang of scorched metal. Prescott’s defenders had fought with everything they had, but the cost was written in the wreckage scattered across the plains outside the capital. Fires still smoldered in the ruins of enemy and allied mechs alike, and teams worked frantically to recover what could be salvaged.
In the midst of it all, Kovacs’s experimental mech—the M60—stood tall, its frame battered but unbroken. The mech had been the spearhead of Prescott’s counterattack, turning the tide when all seemed lost. But as the dust settled, it was clear the victory had not come without sacrifices.
Jackie climbed out of the M60’s cockpit, her movements slow and deliberate. Every muscle in her body ached, and her uniform was damp with sweat and streaked with grime. She stood atop the towering machine, surveying the battlefield. The sight was sobering: shattered mechs, scarred earth, and too many casualties on both sides.
Around her, Prescott’s militia began regrouping, their faces a mixture of relief and exhaustion. The Iron Tide was in full retreat, their remaining forces scattered and disorganized. The M60 had been the key to breaking their assault, but Jackie knew it had taken more than raw firepower. It had taken every ounce of courage, strategy, and grit she and her team could muster.
Kovacs approached, his expression tense. He had stayed behind in the workshop, monitoring the M60’s performance and feeding Jackie real-time tactical updates. Now, seeing the mech still standing and Jackie alive, he exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding.
“You did it,” he said, his voice quiet but heavy with emotion. “The M60 turned the tide.”
Jackie nodded, her gaze distant. “Not without a cost.”
Among the militia ranks, the casualties were staggering. Quinn’s Goblin had been destroyed during the initial assault, leaving his squad to fight on with one fewer mech. Reports came in of units lost in smaller skirmishes as they’d tried to hold the line long enough for Jackie and the M60 to break through. Jackie’s stomach churned as she listened to the casualty reports over the comms.
“These people trusted us, Kovacs,” she said, her voice low. “Trusted me. And I couldn’t save all of them.”
Kovacs placed a hand on her shoulder, his expression solemn. “They knew what they were fighting for, Jackie. They fought because they believed in Prescott—and because they believed in you.”
Jackie didn’t respond immediately, Her eyes locked on the horizon where the Iron Tide had fled. “Then we’d better make sure their sacrifices weren’t for nothing.”
***
As cleanup crews worked to secure the battlefield, word came through the comms of a startling discovery. Among the twisted wreckage and smoldering remains, a militia team had found the enemy commander’s mech largely intact. The cockpit was heavily damaged, its canopy shattered, but the ejection system had worked flawlessly, allowing the pilot to escape the fiery demise of his machine.
The commander was captured within minutes, found limping through the debris with a sidearm. Prescott’s soldiers disarmed him swiftly, binding his hands and dragging him to a waiting transport under heavy guard. Even as a prisoner, his posture was unyielding, his piercing gray eyes taking in his captors with calm disdain.
When he was brought to the capital, the weight of his presence seemed to fill the makeshift command center like a storm cloud. The room fell silent as the guards escorted him in, his boots dragging slightly across the floor. His battle-scarred face was set in a defiant smirk, and even in cuffs, he radiated a dangerous confidence that made Jackie’s fists clench at her sides.
“So,” General Patton began, his gravelly voice cutting through the silence, “this is the mind behind the chaos.” He stepped forward, his towering figure casting a shadow over the commander. “You’ve cost Prescott lives, resources, and peace. Start talking, or you’ll see just how little patience I have left.”
The commander lifted his chin slightly, meeting Patton’s glare without flinching. His lips curled into a mocking smirk. “Peace?” he scoffed, his voice dripping with contempt. “Prescott was never going to have peace. You’re sitting on resources that could shift the balance of power in this sector. Did you really think no one would come for them? You’ve just been lucky to hold out this long.”
Jackie took a step forward, her anger barely contained. “And who sent you? The Iron Tide isn’t smart enough to pull this off on their own.”
The commander’s smirk widened, his gaze flicking toward her. “Clever girl,” he said, his tone almost condescending. “But you already know the answer, don’t you? You’ve seen the supply chains, the funding. This is bigger than some ragtag mercenary company.”
Kovacs exchanged a glance with Jackie, his mind racing. His thoughts turned to the fragments of data they’d recovered during the past weeks—the encrypted shipments, the advanced tech the Iron Tide had deployed. Everything pointed to one conclusion, but hearing it confirmed sent an icy chill down his spine.
The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.
“It doesn’t matter who,” Kovacs said quietly, the words falling from his lips like a curse.
The commander chuckled darkly, a low, rumbling sound that set Jackie’s teeth on edge. “And here I thought you were just a nobody” he said, his eyes narrowing as he studied Kovacs. “Smart and resourceful. Too bad neither of those things will save you. Navros doesn’t care about your colony—they care about the bottom line. And they’ll keep coming.”
“You mean using hired thugs like you?” Jackie snapped, her voice sharp. She stepped closer, glaring at him with a fire that made even the guards tense. “You’ve failed, and now you’re their loose end. What makes you think they’ll come back for you?”
The commander’s smirk faltered slightly, but he recovered quickly. “I wouldn’t expect a soldier to understand the bigger picture. Navros doesn’t need me—they’ve already set things in motion. What you’ve won here is nothing but a pause, not the end.”
General Patton stepped forward, his expression like granite. “That may be, but I’ve spent my entire career making sure people like you regret underestimating colonies like this one.” His voice dropped to a growl. “Take him to the brig. He’s got a lot more to tell us, and I don’t intend to ask nicely.”
The guards moved in, grabbing the commander by his arms. He didn’t resist, but as they dragged him out, his voice rang out across the room. “You’re all dead already, you just don’t know it yet! Navros doesn’t lose.”
The doors slammed shut behind him, leaving a tense silence in his wake.
Jackie exhaled slowly, unclenching her fists. “Navros Industries,” she muttered, the name heavy with disdain. She turned to Kovacs, her voice edged with frustration. “So that’s who we’re up against. A corporation big enough to buy their way out of anything.”
Kovacs nodded grimly, his mind already spinning through the implications. “If Navros is behind this, they’re not going to stop until they’ve stripped Prescott bare. This wasn’t just a raid—they’re playing the long game.”
Patton crossed his arms, his expression unreadable as he stared at the map of the battlefield still glowing on the holo-table. “Then we make sure they don’t get the chance,” he said, his voice like steel. “Prescott has stood against worse, and we’ll stand against them too. But this changes everything. If Navros is pulling the strings, we’re not just fighting mercenaries—we’re fighting their entire war machine.”
Kovacs glanced at Jackie, their eyes meeting for a brief moment of unspoken understanding. “Then we’d better start thinking bigger,” Kovacs said. “Because they’re going to throw everything they’ve got at us.”
Jackie squared her shoulders, the fire in her eyes unshaken. “Let them,” she said. “We’ll be ready.”
***
Later that evening, as the fires on the battlefield finally began to fade, Jackie stood atop a high platform overlooking Prescott City. The faint hum of activity rose from below as people moved through the city streets, battered but unbroken. Makeshift lights illuminated the crowd gathering in the square, their faces worn but their eyes filled with something that had been scarce in recent days: hope.
Jackie leaned against the railing, her body heavy with exhaustion. Her hands were scratched and calloused, her uniform streaked with soot and sweat. But she didn’t move to clean herself up. She wanted to remember this moment—the smell of burnt metal and ash, the distant murmur of voices, the way the M60 loomed in the background, its scarred frame standing tall like a monument to their survival.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Kovacs approach. He moved quietly, as if reluctant to break the silence, but there was a calm steadiness in his gait. He leaned on the railing beside her, his shoulder brushing hers lightly.
“You know they’re going to remember this,” he said after a moment, gesturing toward the crowd. His voice was soft but carried a weight of certainty. “You, the M60, what we did here today. You gave them something to believe in.”
Jackie let out a faint laugh, shaking her head as she glanced at him. “I didn’t do it alone, Kovacs. None of us did.” Her eyes drifted back to the people below, her tone softening. “They fought too. They bled for this.”
He nodded, his expression thoughtful. “Maybe. But someone had to stand in front. Someone had to give them the courage to believe they could win.”
Jackie frowned, her hands gripping the railing tighter. “I’m not a leader, Kovacs. I’m just... stubborn.”
“Stubborn enough to take on an entire enemy battalion in a prototype mech?” He tilted his head, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re more than just stubborn, Jackie. You saw what had to be done, and you did it. That’s what makes a leader.”
She turned her gaze back to the crowd. Families huddled together, parents holding their children close, militia members sharing weary smiles and claps on the back. These were the people they had fought for, the ones who would keep Prescott alive long after the Iron Tide was a memory.
Jackie sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly. “They deserve better than this war,” she murmured. “Better than looking to someone like me.”
“They look to you because you give them strength,” Kovacs said, his voice steady. “Whether you like it or not, you’re their symbol now. And that’s not a bad thing.”
Jackie didn’t reply immediately. She let his words settle, rolling them over in her mind. As she watched the people below cheering, rebuilding, and finding hope amid the ruins, she felt something shift in her chest. For the first time, she allowed herself to believe that maybe—just maybe—they could win this.
“Alright,” she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. “One battle at a time.”
Kovacs nodded, his lips curving into a faint smile. “One battle at a time.”
They stood in silence for a while, the noise from the crowd fading into a distant hum. Above them, the smoke had thinned, revealing a sky dotted with stars. The soft glow of the constellations brought a fragile sense of peace to the city below.
Jackie glanced at Kovacs, studying his profile. His face was lined with exhaustion, his hands scarred from the hours spent in the workshop, but there was a calm resolve in his expression. He was always working, always thinking, always building something to give Prescott a fighting chance.
Without fully realizing it, she reached out and slipped her hand into his. Kovacs stiffened slightly, caught off guard, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, he glanced at her, his brows lifting in surprise.
“You’re not just stubborn, you know,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “You’re the reason we’re still here.”
He didn’t reply immediately. When he did, his words were soft, almost hesitant. “It’s not just me. It’s us. All of us.”
Jackie smiled, her fingers tightening around his. “I know. But it helps having you around.”
Kovacs’s face softened, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he allowed himself a moment of stillness. They stood together, hand in hand, as the stars shone above and the echoes of war faded into the quiet promise of a new day.