We return to the ship without any hassle, watching as the other AGs fly off to finish off the enemy. Without their jets defending them and with their drives most likely needing to recharge from their attempt to ambush us, they should be easy enough for the others to deal with. However, that is behind me.

Landing in the bay, I walk my machine back over to its station. As soon as I hear the faint hiss of the latches, I tear off my helmet, breathing the stale air of the cockpit for myself. After a few desperate gulps, I shut down my machine, slump against my controls, and close my eyes. Slowly, I breathe in and out, trying to calm my shaking body. From within the cockpit, the rocking of the ship as it fires and receives fire from the Martian ships seems so distant, and I allow myself to slip away.

For a moment, my body feels like it’s floating, the fading warmth of the controls the only thing grounding me to the world as I sit in a void of my own making.

“Hey, Ensign Kizashi. I need you out of the machine!” Officer Nasreen’s voice pulls me back to reality.

I flounder behind the controls, eventually finding the hatch controls and managing to pop it open. Grabbing my helmet, I stumble out of the cockpit only to be caught by Officer Nasreen.

“You ok?” she asks, scanning me with a discerning eye. “You know the rest of your squad went out a while ago?”

“I’m fine,” I say, nodding after a moment. “I Just needed a moment. Thank you for catching me.”

“Not a problem. Be a waste if you fell to your death here. ‘Specially after what you just did out there.”

“Huh?”

“You were great out there,” Nasreen says, slapping my back. “I was honestly a bit concerned about how you would do, but you blew my expectations out of the water. I guess you and the others are worth making a bit of a fuss over. Though, of course, the star of the show here are these beauties.”

As she says that, she turns away from me and looks over at the Janissary. I turn as well and see that where there was once pristine red and gold paint, there are now signs of damage. Scorch marks stain the body, as well as dents from bullet impacts. While none of the vulnerable servos underneath the armor are exposed, I was not able to get through the battle unscathed and it shows on the machine.

After taking a moment to look over my machine, I look over at the others. Auclair-Stolz’s machine is in a similar condition to mine, with a few scorch marks and pockmarks marring the paint. However, Di’Lotta’s machine looks like it took some serious damage. The shield on the right shoulder has several dents in it, and just below it, I can see a section where the armor has been damaged to the point that the servo underneath has been exposed. Along with that, there are several significant scars on the torso.

“Yeah, snotnose gave me plenty of work to do with his machine, but he seemed like the type who would. After all, it’s always the ones who talk the most shit who can’t back it up when the chips are down. Might not be in the pristine shape that the Captain wants, but that just means snot nose doesn’t get to be in all the glamor shots, which is more than fine by me.”

“Huh, glamor shots?”

“Oh. I guess things didn’t trickle down yet. You lot are gonna be used in some propo reels. So that means I get the great task of making sure that these things, at the very least, appear shiny and undamaged as they head out into battle. I think the whole thing is dumb and pointless, but I ain’t the one in charge of making those kinds of decisions, so whatever.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“Oh.”

“Yeah. That’s actually part of why I needed you out of the cockpit. Need to collect your combat log.”

“I don’t think anything I did will be too impressive,” I say, shrinking back.

“I certainly disagree, and while I ain’t the one who is putting the logs together, I’m sure that the other will agree with me as well. Feel free to check it over some time. I’m sure it will be good practice for you to look over your own logs.”

“If you say so. If it can help me get better, I’ll gladly take your advice.”

“Good, I’ll send it over to you once the propo folks are done with it. For now, you should probably head out and rest up. While you were sitting around, the rest of your squad went out, and unfortunately, I don’t know where, though I know the mess is open to the returning pilots, so you can probably try that.”

“Ah, don’t worry about me. I’m not all that hungry.”

“Alright then. Watch yourself on the climb down.”

I nod and carefully make my way around the scaffolding, watching the crew scurry about. Making it down without any issue, I quickly rush out of the mech bay and head into the hallway. To my surprise, there is a rather energetic mood in the halls as I make my way through with the sound of distant cheering greeting me as I step in.

“Nice work!” an excited crewman cheers as he waves over to me with a smile on his face. “

I nod, not quite sure how to respond to the praise. Fortunately, he quickly moves on allowing me to continue on my way over to our quarters. I move quickly, rushing through the halls. After a quick detour to my room, I make my way over to the shower.

Freezing cold water strikes my body sending shocks throughout my body as I endure it. The cold drives away all my thoughts and concerns for a brief moment, forcing me to focus on moving to keep warm and get myself out of the shower. I don’t spend much time under the water, managing to wash off rather quickly, thanks to my previous experiences. Once I am out, I vigorously dry myself off before changing and dashing out of the bathroom,

I make it back to my dorm without any problems, and as I collapse onto the bed, the thoughts I had tried to chase away with the cold come rushing back in.

You almost let everyone down. If it wasn’t for the others launching in time, you would have had them all killed because of your failure. Hundreds of people would have died, helpless, all because you aren’t good enough.

You should have done more. You missed too many of the shots you took. Just like back in training, your accuracy is pathetic. Did you think that just because you had one good training session, you were some kind of Ace? Give me a break. If you had even landed half of the shots you took, you might have been able to make a difference. Instead, you had to be carried by the sniper squad. You’re lucky that Lieutenant Blaustien wasn’t waiting for you. I’m sure that if he was, he would be filled with nothing but disgust for you. As he should be.

Dancing alongside my myriad doubts are scenes of battle. I find myself back within the cockpit at different points of the battle. Behind the controls once more, I try to see what I can do better as I face off against the swarm. From changing my targets in the battle, rushing the enemy, attempting to reload the Tempete, or moving to group back up with the others, I try everything that I can think of to see how it could have impacted the battle. However, my imagined efforts only end in failure.

Some see me failing to protect the ship even worse than my already poor performance. The Martian forces slip by me and head over to the ship, engaging in a bombing run that shatters the ship. The screams of hundreds of lives spilling into the void before being silenced. Others see me going up like the pilots I shot down. My cockpit becomes a furnace of a coffin as failing systems light a fire within the cockpit before the entire machine goes up in an explosion that ends the pain.

Knock knock knock

The frantic pounding pulls me from another fiery death. Breathing heavily, I rise from the bed and stumble over to the door, straightening out my uniform as I make the short journey. As I slide the door open, I feel my heart sink as I see a crew member staring me down.

“Ensign Kizashi?”

“Yes.”

“The Captain has called for all hands to report to the main hall.”