As she floated up to the round circular doorway imbedded into the thick set armour of the red & green Neo-C, Scarlet waved in the direction of what to the common eye might look like a supports box in a stadium.
The Fluchtig's hanger was lined with these boxes' along its back wall - Used for various purpose such as offices, break rooms and the like - It made the perfect spot for her to watch over the battle. Like with the speech, Una had insisted she wanted to atleast be with them in spirit and Scarlet could hardly say no to that - Now sat in that box, nodding back loosely at Scarlet's wave, Una would have access to all the camera and audio feeds she could possibly ask for (courtesy once again of the Bela Grimizan access codes).
Scarlet had also roped the ships head-fitter into keeping Una company too, the man was known to the squad in passing and though he'd probably be quite busy after the battle, during it repairs to the ship's mechs and armour would take priority over plumbing and fixtures.
She sat into her chair as the circular doorway rumbled shut - It had been an entire week since she had last so much as touched a mech, that was a weird thought to her.
Since the First War she could count the number of times she had gone that long without atleast doing a little mech maintance, on one hand - But this time Chief Pel's mechanics had tuned things to perfection, and with Una's condition, Scarlet hadn't wanted to leave the girl alone - And so a whole 'mech-less' week had passed.
Not to say it took her long to settle - No the cockpit of her machine was still assuredly the place she felt most comfortable in life.
She checked around her controls, the engines having already been brought to standby for her - The main, ever red-tinted monitor shining before her - It made her smile a little, unlike all the other Neo's, hers had a triangular dome shaped head with a movable red eye, said eye could look in all directions without moving the head's direction, but offered a much smaller field of vision - It was how she liked it.
The helmet had been recovered from her previous machine, an original Vijaik heavy that had accompanied her on and off for nearly a decade now - That single glowing red eye was one of a the few constants after all these years.
That said the cockpit of the Neo was far better than those old machines - She remembered having just three monitors back in the day and a cheap metal frame chair, in a cabin that was so close to the engine you felt like striping down to nothing just to bear the heat.
By contrast the Neo was spacious, much better ventilated and filled with monitors, control dials and a seat with good back support and cushioning for when you got thrown about.
In particular she appreciated an addition Hoki and Chief Pel had come up with, a socket at her feet that she could insert her prosthetic into - Most mechs had auxiliary pedals, some skilled pilots used said pedals to control altitude or energy output, with this socket Scarlet could do the same more easily.
She also rested her eye briefly on the glovebox containing her supply of the 'Enhancer' drug - The one she had smashed during the speech had of course been a fake, just a syringe she'd nabbed from sickbay and sloppily stuck a label to - But her words had been true, she had made a promise to herself, not to use the drug unless absolutely necessary - Today's mission had been worked on tirelessly for a week of sleepless nights - The likes of Kolme, Hoki, Tomo, Erfu and Nate all planning endlessly for a mission of precision and teamwork, to give them the best chance of beating the Curadh once and for all - She wasn't about to spoil all that planning, all the hard work of the technicians pre-programming the missiles, the grenadiers readying the main ship's cannon shots - She would fight alongside them with her own skills and abilities, even if she didn't believe in them, the others did and that had to mean something.
She took one last look at Una's almost ghostly face via her machines rear camera, then flicked open her comm lines - "Bout time yet bridge?"
A moment's pause, then, "Roger Warrant Officer, You Are Clear For Launch in 10 seconds, Happy Hunting."
Scarlet grinned, "Got'cha, good luck to you too."
Her mech stepped into the magnetic rail shackles and hunched forward, she set the power output to maximum, "Alright then, this is unit 3, Neo-C Red Custom, Scarlet Scourge taking off!!"
****
Some would of suggested it was only fair the Fluchtig got the first shot in today's battle - Considering the Curadh had manged to ambush the Tristian Group twice before this, however that wasn't exactly a massive consolation prize to Major Moncha.
The ambush had been carried out with forethought and precision, to such a degree Moncha would have to begrudgingly admit he was impressed - It had started only a short time ago with a massive barrage - Cannon blasts from all three of the enemy ships, AA fire from dozens of smaller stations and a gigantic swarm of missiles - Said projectiles had been pre-programmed to spread out and cause as much confusion as possible, stalling an array of the Curadh's sensor equipment while creating a smokescreen for the Tristain flotilla to deploy its mechs - Meanwhile the cannon fire had also been planned in advance - Using their ability to trace the Curadh's position, the Enemy had successfully landed multiple blows in its first volley - The endless night sky had been lit ablaze with a constant stream of colourful lightning.
A single shot had completely destroyed one of the Curadh's two launch decks, in the process burying half the hanger-bay and some of their mechs. Another had skimmed off the bridge, luckily no one was hurt but the Captain and her staff had been forced to go to the lower-bridge, the time spent moving had delayed their response even more.
And most damaging of all had been a direct blow to the Curadh's main cannon. Despite being a decade old ship, the Curadh was one of only two ever completed Troy class ships, it had been built like a Casnel, packed full of the wonder-metal Goibniu with absurd power generation - But that meant nothing if the barrel for channelling said power, had just been snapped in half.
And all that had just been the enemy's first volley. With one deck destroyed Moncha's squad had to launch one by one in single file, Moncha taking off last after having to literally unbury his machine.
Meanwhile the Curadh itself had to turn around to better face the enemy force, an action which had cost it even more time.
Indeed Moncha had to admit, it was a very good ambush, the Tristian Flotilla was clearly playing for keeps this time.
He launched fourth, Falc's machine still buried (Not that they had clearance for her to sortie anyway...) - To Moncha's annoyance he soon learned the Casnel was no where to be seen, apparently having gone out first it had chased after two enemy Neo's and not been seen since.
Not that he was worried about Helt winning, the boy had the best machine on the battlefield - Rather Moncha couldn't shake the feeling it was a trap, that the enemy had deliberately destroyed only one runway in order to split the Casnel apart from the rest of the Curadh.
Nonetheless Moncha couldn't worry about that now, he had the greater battle to concern him.
This time there was no asteroid field for cover, just an open expanses of dark space - Far in the distance the machines of IAFS, firing their volleys at the already damaged Curadh.
They needed info, to know exactly what they were up against and that meant reaching the other side of the battlefield - With the Casnel absent, that only left the 3 Vijaik Specials - Moncha respected his two wingmen, they were in his opinion some of the best, Aces in their own right - But there was no way they could cross the massive gap between here and the enemy ships - Not without being torn to shreds - No ordinary pilot could manage that, 'So it's good I'm no ordinary pilot then eh?'
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
Leaving his two wingmen to guard the ship as best they could, the Vijaik-Knight had set into no man's land - He weaved, dodged and ducked his way through the waves of cannon fire larger than his whole machine, past lines of heavy anti-air gun munitions, and as he got nearer, the more precise rifle fire of the enemy Nemo's.
For most it would be a suicide run, no cover, no room for a single mistake - Sure the Vijaik Special was made for speed but that came at the cost of armour, should he so much as scrape against the cannon fire his machine would be crippled in an instant - But onward he strove.
Gradually the image of the three green & beige coloured IAFS ships began to come into view, growing bigger on his monitors by the second. He was in part fuelled by his frustrations, the Curadh had a plan of its own - At their current speed, in just one more day's time, they would of crossed paths with a friendly TSU patrol fleet - While the regular TSU forces weren't officially at war with IAFS, if they saw a TSU-s ship being pursued, they would no doubt help - They could of turned this from a 3 on 1, into a 16 on 3 - That was the captain's plan.
Moncha had pleaded with her to increase their speed, to head for the patrol fleet faster, but the captain had insisted any faster and IAFS would guess their plan - Now it was too late, the Fluchtig had made the first move and the Major would just have to live with it.
He soared past the enemy line, not slowing until he past a hair's breath away from a confused enemy Nemo - The machine that was dutifully guarding its flotilla, turned its head all too slowly.
Using the momentum of his flight across no man's land, Moncha spun his machine and let free the weapon in its hand, an 'Arc-Spear' - Where the average Arc-Staff varied in shape and size, Arc-Spears had never really been mass produced considering their difficulty of use, a long metal shaft with a plasma arrowhead - Moncha had picked them up somewhere years back and decided today was the right time for them, making use of centrifugal force he flung the spear with almighty pressure.
It coursed through the vacuum of space, striking the Nemo right in the chest just as it finished taking aim at Moncha, the whole machine jerked back violently from the force of impact - Moncha flipped a switch on his control board, the spear exploded violently.
It was a risky strategy, you threw your weapon in the hopes it would cut a small indent through the enemies' bulkhead, a little incision all the way into the cockpit - And then you exploded the whole weapon, killing the pilot by force or incineration, while the outside of the mech remained intact.
And it had worked, the enemy Nemo fell limp, the pilot inside dead.
Sparing no time, Moncha finally took in his surroundings - Beneath him was the hexagonal dome of the Am-Fluchtig, sitting as always atop the large iris shape of the battleship.
In the distance on the left was triangular shape of the cruiser, Valliere - And to the right, the similar shaped cruiser Rinie. Out in the distance was where he'd come from, the partially visible, heavily damaged Curadh.
All that was what he expected to see from this side of the battlefield, what was strange was the absences.
In the previous battle the Tristian group had kept 11 Nemo's to guard it, a decent net of protection against maneuverers like what Moncha had just managed - But as his mechs angular head turned from side to side, Moncha found a complete lack of any such tight defence this time - In the distance he could see two Nemos, holding their position, keeping their weapons pointed in the Curadh's direction - There were three more heading straight for him, probably to avenge their friend - If a commander unit was hiding somewhere else, that meant just seven mechs were guarding all three warships.
Moncha licked his lips, this was big news, he had planned to knock out 3 enemies while he was here, perhaps he mused, he could systematically take down all 7 one by one and then simply blast open the enemy ship's bridges at point blank range - The idea excited him for only a moment, a second later he was forced to dodge to the side as a flurry of orange light coursed past him.
Another Nemo had come into range, shooting its rifle at him - Moncha could evade each volley with ease, moving minimally, just enough that the paint on his machine singed from the close proximity.
He raised back his mech's arm, a second spear held firm and launched it forward - To his surprise the enemy Nemo ducked, as though it had been warned just in time.
The spear instead of piercing the chest, went straight through the Nemo's orange visor, burrowing a path through to the back of the head.
Moncha tutted, sure that Nemo was now blind but it was no knockout. He quickly reached to his side and drew an a short bladed arc staff, looking around warily for the next attack. Missing the kill on this second Nemo was bad news, he was deep in enemy lines, even if there were less opponents then he'd first thought, he couldn't afford to get sloppy.
He carefully moved his machine out of the way as a burst of heavy AA fire tried to reach him from the Warship's below. His brow furrowed, things were too quiet, it should of been chaos by now.
The worst had happened, an enemy was hanging in the sky above their flagship, it could attack the ship at any moment - Normally panic would of set in, the whole defence line would rush to defeat him, abandoning their posts - But that wasn't happening, in fact the Nemo he'd just blinded was cautiously pulling back, carefully retreating.
'Their commander is damn good, they know how to keep discipline, stop their men from panicking' Moncha thought gloomily to himself - He didn't like this, the tension of waiting, he preferred the constant flurry of attacks on all sides.
"Fine then, if you're gonn'a ignore little old me!" He turned the speical downwards, he would strike out at the enemy bridge if no one wanted to play with him.
Just as that thought crossed his mind, a new blast of orange fire spread past his machine - He turned to face its origins.
Something not quiet a Nemo faced him, Moncha remembered its shape from previous battles - The larger rounded bulkhead, the battle-kilt and other small additions - A Neo-Custom, though unlike those of Kolme's squad, this one was covered in only a series of endless grey boxes - 'Depleted missile launchers eh?'
In one hand the rifle it had just fired, the other a sword shaped arc staff.
Moncha watched carefully as this lone challenger tossed the rifle aside, next its shield unclipped and floated away - Finally all the grey containers uncoupled and floated freely.
The now slimmed down Neo drew a second Arc-staff and took a new stance - Moncha rose an eyebrow, he didn't know many others who used sword skills, especially not a dual wielding stance.
"Alright then!" He cheered, reaching forward to attack - But the instant the word 'Attack' crossed his mind, the Neo moved.
It was fast and a second later his staff clashed with the enemies first blade - As sparks flew, it swung forward it's second, Moncha moved to evade, breaking contact and reaching to his mech's back he grabbed his Calabar blade, a long fencing style weapon - With a thrust he aimed for the opening created by the enemies attack - To his surprise once more, the enemy rather then press their attack had immediately pulled back away - Now a few metres back held its blades in a defensive X-pattern.
Moncha grinned, this person wasn't just a good pilot or a skilled swordsman, they were something he hadn't even considered finding out here, "Your reading my mind ain't ya, you're a Magi!" He exclaimed with excitement.
****