FSE

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'Yet across the gulf of space, minds that are to our minds as ours are to those of the beasts that perish, intellects vast and cool and unsympathetic, regarded this earth with envious eyes, and slowly and surely drew their plans against us.'

—?H. G. Wells (1898), The War of the Worlds

>To think almost exactly 100 years ago such a passage of popular fiction foreshadowed the terrible thing to come long after the passing of its author was a humbling and maddening thought, as if the universe itself, however cruel and indifferent, enacted a twisted poetry that rhymed the stanzas of human suffering between page and life.

>Yet the martians that fell from the sky on crossing trails of fire two years before were not imperialist conquerors of some neighboring empire just out of the gaze of our blinded eyes to the void, but rather they were a wounded rabble. Bested long ago by a far greater adversary that now descended on their inferiors and engaged in cathartic and indiscriminate slaughter.

>The year was 1997, Earth was under siege by marauders that had arrived on a half dead ship that drifted without aim or motion in the black for untold years before making a close pass by our azure pearl. At which point its crew scrambled away from their meteoric home and crashed headlong into ours, and so the war began.

Chapter 1: Re-entry

>Your vision and consciousness danced in a haze of smoke and darkness, the vague sting of distant heat, and muffled ring to your sides was all that assured you that you weren't dead right now.

>Drawing in air only met your throat with a rasping burn, the ringing faded into silence as you retched, the hot air tasting of fire and oil. The pungent offal of scorching desolation overwhelmed any comprehensive sense of smell.

>You stumbled forward blindly, reaching outwards, a fumbling advance into the darkness to reach your goal, keeping your eyes sealed tight to avoid the singing sting of the smoke.

>Your outstretched hand found a breaker switch in the wall and you jammed it forwards. The aggressive hum of fan blades greeted you with a sudden sucking of the fouled air away from you, and the crisp breath of cold air greeted your skin from the other side of the compartment.

>You dropped to the floor and retched violently, your lungs desperately spasming to force the clinging miasma out of your body.

>Empty, shaking coughs hammered your chest and gnashed your throat closed, everything stung with flicking trails of fiery pain.

>You opened your eyes, met with a vignette of the unpainted deck plate you collapsed onto.

>You could still feel the natural panic of your body trying to force a shifting echo of the smoke out of your lungs, but you needed to breathe.

*BREATHE*

>You forced your jaws open and opened your throat, cold air rushed in, a cold stinging following it down into your chest.

>Immediately you coughed again, your chest still thumped and flared in dull pain with each shaky report from your lungs, but now it was a productive cough, a cough with substance.

>That was better than nothing you supposed.

>Your first comprehensive musing after swimming your mind back into the land of the waking and you were merely thankful the violent shrieking agony of your lungs was actually moving air.

>How low you had sunk, but it was good to simply be.

>to be ALIVE

>You steadied your back against the corner and practiced using your lungs again.

>The cold iron and chilled air being bought in from outside by the ventilators did much to sooth your various hurts.

>The dull thrum from the duct above you took the hot, smoke clouted air away and provided a humming metronome for you to concentrate your breathing on.

>You timed your breaths with the slow, occasional tick from the fans above you shimmying on their bearings.

>It hurt to breath too deeply, your ribs protested with a creeping dullness whenever your lungs expanded too far, most likely one or more of your ribs was broken or fractured.

>You were simply elated you hadn't collapsed a lung.

>You must have sat there for a good few minutes simply recirculating life through your body with fresh oxygen before the thought occurred to you to find a way out of your situation. Helped by the chilled embrace of lifeless steel creeping onto your back, bleeding through your jumpsuit, a soft whispering of touch that snapped you back to reality.

>You hauled yourself up, using the breaker as a handle to steady yourself, and flicked the manual purge valve back off, the fans died down and the ducts above you shuttered closed.

>You were buried, and had to get out before THEY found you first.

>You stumbled towards the rear wall, legs shaking as you breathed steadily to recall your strength, the whole cabin illuminated in a dim sanguine glow from a single red light.

>You found the primer rod and wrenched it back, and slammed it forward into the wall, 5 pulls, no 6 it was cold out, maybe 7 just to be safe.

>The heavy bar of the ignition lever almost seemed to gleam at you, the silvery rod clean despite the grease and smoke that clung to you.

>You steeled yourself and laid both hands on the flat iron of the bar handle, found your footing and leaned your weight against it.

>As the bar started to rotate downwards you pushed forward, ignoring the flaring pain in your shoulders and legs as you slammed it down.

>With a clang the tension on the bar lifted and you guided it back into its upward position.

>You listened with an ear pressed to the icy steel as clatters and groaning sounded behind the wall.

>There wasn't even a sputter.

>But you weren't going down like that, you pulled the primer rod 8 times and wrenched the ignition lever down again.

Yyou listened, the movement lasted a little longer this time and you heard a single, dulled pop before the movement stalled.

>10 times then, and you threw more weight into the bar.

>The popping quickening into a slight sputter but went nowhere.

>Your heart tightened with anger, 12 times, throw again.

>Your body warmed with the effort, a dull murmur greeted your ears before it stalled.

>16 times, THROW the bar

>Your sure this was overkill, but you NEEDED this to work right now.

>A few deep rumbles and a clattering thrum before it stalled back.

>You threw the lever before the noise could die, and reached your left hand up towards the choke lever, easing it gently towards a halfway mark to help along the process.

>You got a few moments of life before it stalled again.

"motherfucker"

> 22 times, you think, you were losing count as you swore and practically tackled the bar forward.

>Immediately you braked the choke on as it started rumbling, and eased the manual throttle upwards as you started hearing a slow clattering thrum as it built faster and smoother.

"yes."

"yes!"

"YES!!"

>You played a delicate balancing act between the throttle and choke as you nursed the sputtering clatter into a healthier thrum.

>Slowly easing off the choke you pulled the throttle higher and higher, and the thrum became a low growl, your ear pulsed with the slight vibrations as the turn over approached.

>As the machinery turned over you wrenched the choke down , slamming the starter button with the palm of your hand and pushing the throttle fully open.

>A loud banging clatter filled your ears as the thrum moved into a roar, and then a powerful howl that hummed through the walls.

>And so the engines howled, letting whoever may take care to listen that they were alive, that you were alive.

>You eased the manual throttle lever down into the idle position, and the engines calmly emitted their constant pulsing hum.

>Your machine was alive, you had restarted its valiant heart. The clamor of a wide smile had edged across your face.

>Leaping for joy, hands held high in victory, you wiped the sweat from your brow as your machine rumbled contentedly, your arms and hands stained inky black from soot and grease.

>You imagined your face wasn't looking too pretty either.

>You looked towards the center of the compartment, the auger stood silent, hanging from a collage of cables and wires as the full body armature hung above its cradle, open and waiting.

>for you

>Despite the tinge of heat under your skin, the filth and grease that clung hard to your flesh, and the sweat and aches of exhaustion creeping along your physique you stepped in, steeling yourself for confronting the world.

>You pulled your goggles down and plugged in the sensory jack and guided your arms into their place as the armature clamped around your legs, hugging and supporting them in a spider's web of metal and struts.

>The armature snapped itself shut around you, as you gripped the hand triggers and your goggle screens flicked to life with a view of dark gray stone and rubble.

>You and the machine were now joined, both of you were battered and exhausted, but you would pull yourself out of this rubble with its help.

>You breathed deep from the cool air, ignoring the dull ache from your ribs and tensed yourself. You heaved upwards, the armature supporting your movements as the engines groaned with effort, the machine followed.

---

>"Be part of the T.A. infantry, see the world, meet interesting people, stomp aliens, get your 5 minutes of fame on a propaganda poster."

>If you ever found your old recruiting officer you were going to strangle the limy little fuck.

>Your idiot Lieutenant, greener than the fucking grass, had gotten you and the rest of your platoon into one hell of a mess.

>You were having a very bad day right now, swearing vehemently as you tried to clear the jam from your carbine.

>Your ear piece radio had chattered off a general retreat order half an hour ago.

>But you were currently hunkered down at the end of a ruined road with the rest of your platoon overlooking a shell churned field that stretched out for a good 200 meters before ending in a ridge line that rose up ahead of you.

>You had intended to follow that order, the LT was all too eager to get the hell out, but you had a problem.

>Your entire front cordon was swarming with bugs, you were barely holding off a sea of black carapaces, gnashing teeth, and rending claws.

>You couldn't outrun the swarm, if you couldn't put enough dead bodies between your people and the bugs you would all be run down and torn to shreds when you turned to run.

>You thanked God that none of the bigger bastards had decided to show up, a few rifle rounds would cut down the little ones but their were just too damn many.

>Finally clearing the jammed round out of the chamber and charging the chamber to clear out any feed issues you snapped the bolt shut

>before you could raise your carbine to add to the clamor and chatter of automatic gunfire raking across the bugs you spotted movement to the far right from the corner of your eye.

>In what was undoubtedly some sort of landslide as half a towns worth of apartment blocks and strip malls had collapsed into a heap intermixed with a slide of stone from the ridge, you spotted part of the heap starting to move, and something very large was clawing its way out.

>The hairs on the back of your neck bristled as your swearing grew exponentially more intense.

>Today was turning out to be a REALLY bad day.

>You shouted a warning at the very top of your lungs, punctuated by a, in your opinion, well timed use of your favorite four letter words.

>There was a crash and a shrieking, guttural howl that made your blood ice over as the rubble started falling away.

>A dark shape lurched forward, trailing falling stones and steadily rising jets of smoke as it thumped forwards on two armored legs.

>....wait

>THATS A FUCKING RUMBLER

>It was far from a pretty machine but your heart soared to see it.

>The ugly thing stomped forward and turned its attention towards you.

>You couldn't help but give a cheering holler as its weapon arms raised towards the hoard.

---

>Your view was clear now and your machine wasn't lurching as much now that the weight of all that rubble collapsed off its back.

>Far ahead of you, you sighted what appeared to be a friendly infantry unit currently holding ground at the shattered end of a road against swarms of small bugs advancing from the cratered field to your right.

>Your optics couldn't give you much more than, hazy, vaguely human shapes when you tried to zoom in to see exactly who they were, regardless, you needed to beat feet back to base, and they needed help. badly.

>Despite your damaged optics, precision wasn't needed here, just fire into the hoard and you'll hit SOMETHING, guaranteed.

>You tried the left hand trigger for the rotary cannon first, you growled as a grinding whine issued from your distant left as the barrels failed to spool up.

>The right hand rotary cannon fared better, with an electric growl the barrels spun into motion, and soon issued a low foghorn droning as a stream of 30mm tracers stitched their way up the hoard. A wave like gout of dark ichor, mud, and severed bits of alien shot into the air like a chain of geysers as you walked the stream of fire upwards from the hoard's flank.

>Thank the lord for the GAU-8 avenger.

>You kept pouring fire into the hoard, the coolant levels in the right weapon arm still fairly high to stave off overheating from either weapon mounted there.

>Still you needed more.

>Not just to cut apart the hoard but to still a hurt buried deep in your core, something beyond the ache of your ribs, or the flaring shiver of pain rippling over your muscles. Something that demanded blood.

>The machine's left leg was damaged, the auger locking up when you tried to bend it too far forward, a signal that damage rendered that part of your range of motion inaccessible.

>Still, even with a slight limp in both yours and the machine's step, you were making good time closing in to assist the friendlies.

>Your forward missile racks were down, bent beyond repair and jammed by debris.

>The shoulder cannon turrets, the left one wasn't responding to your control signal, but the right one did and you leveled its barrels towards the hoard.

>Three loud reports bounced their echo around the right side of the chassis as a triumvirate of 200mm shells crashed into the bulk of the hoard, sending squalls of gore, mud, and dead xenos skyward.

>You couldn't help chuckling at the grim display of gory fireworks, maybe you had snapped.

-Macabre piñata party!-

>No brain, no

>Taking offense at being blown into tiny pieces a shriek rolled like a wave over what survived of the hoard, half of them clumping back towards the ridge line to regroup and surge for another attack, the other half scrambling towards you.

"big mistake"

>You weren't so sure about using anything on the left weapon arm since it was likely beat to hell, but you deflected the right arm downwards as the tide of black forms raced towards you

>An inferno like gout of flame poured from under the rotary cannon as you sweeped the flamethrower along the leading edge of the incoming pack.

-need a light?-

>... not bad brain, not bad

>Calling it a mere flamethrower would be a disservice to the amount of napalm it spat. Geneva convention be damned.

>You noticed the infantry had taken the chance to run back up the road, in towards the ruined buildings that stood on either side.

>Stomping through the burning slurry that was most of the pack that charged you, you decided to send some presents to their friends regrouping by the ridge, a couple hundred 30mm Armor Piercing Incendiary rounds and 3 more 200mm HE shells

>Watching half dead bugs sail in a high arc before coming to an end in a crumpled heap seemed to faintly tickle some sense of childish glee.

>You sincerely hoped this was normal. ...As close to normal as blowing away hoards of screaming insect monsters with the world's most destructive full body prosthetic could be.

>As you climbed your engine of destruction up on to the road, you noticed your left leg was dragging more, its range of motion was shrinking and its responses to your input were becoming weak and sluggish.

>You were likely leaking hydraulic fluid from that leg, or it could be a problem with a power coupling. You were too preoccupied to check the gauges, but the drive linkages were still responsive, that leg could still be used to balance and keep your machine upright and mobile, even if it locked up.

>Keeping the machine facing towards the ridge to cover the retreating infantry, You hobbled backwards along the wide road, firing into any large enough gathering of targets as you moved.

>There was a definite temptation to simply turn around and start hobble-sprinting with the rumbler's good leg, especially as a practical tidal wave of black chitin broke over the top of the ridge. A certain phrase about tolling bells comes to mind, you had never seen so many bugs before, yet you swallow your fear.

>The infantry behind you have to at least get over that hill about 400 meters behind you, as you guess some motorized transport may be waiting there.

>Stand and deliver.

>Abandoning all pretense of accuracy in the face of this swarm, you fired wildly, jamming on the triggers to all of your operable weapons, you were wishing you had decided to ride with a sub gunner this morning.

>No time to lament over what you did or did not do this morning, the tide of bugs was steadily closing the distance.

>The pace of your backwards hobble quickened.

>Walking a rumbler in reverse was already slow, walking a rumbler in reverse with a gimped leg was even slower.

>Maybe if these fucking things were made in France the reverse gears would be faster.

>Oh God you did it now, you were chuckling nervously at your own internal joke, you were going to die.

>Your anxiety quelled a bit as you saw slivering enfilades of rifle fire zip past your machine's legs to pick off stragglers, the infantry hadn't abandoned you.

>You also heard, and felt, a familiar pounding of the ground far off in the distance behind you, artillery was just around the corner.

>You buzzed the leading edge of the incoming tidal wave of angry claws and teeth with the rotary cannon, then followed that with wide sweeps of the flamer, not even caring about the possibility of draining the fuel tank completely.

>It seemed to be staving them off, at least for now.

>Yet bugs are nothing if not unreasonably tenacious, they would find a way around the wall of inferno and continue their hungry pursuit.

>The pounding grew louder.

>Checking your rear cameras, sure enough there it was, looming over the crest of the hill, the 4 fat cannons of a Juggernaut.

>Now Juggernauts were rather ugly machines, at least the Rumbler had a sort of rough-shod charm to it. Juggernauts were 3 times the height of a Rumbler, and looked like someone bolted the front quarter of a naval heavy cruiser onto a pair of plantigrade stilts and then blunted its nose with a crowbar.

>Granted the 4 naval artillery cannons it carried paired in pillboxes bolted to both sides of the main hull were beautiful things.

>Usually they stayed in the back lines where their height and long range made them naturally suited as superheavy artillery. They were abysmally slow walkers and operated on a gyro system rather than the auger your own machine used, that meant if they took a hard enough hit to the side they were liable to tumble over without an organic balancing instinct hardwired to the legs to keep it upright.

>It braced one knee forward in a firing position and took aim at the gathering swarm just in front of you.

>You can't remember exactly what caliber those guns are off the top of your head, just that their a hell of a lot bigger than anything your machine carried.

>A quartet beat of enormously loud reports sent eruptions of debris and corpses high into the air in front of you and to your sides.

>It also sunk most of the road, and the buildings, the craters forming a sort of small crevasse the chittering, screaming mass of insects couldn't cross in good time.

>You almost couldn't believe what you survived, the landslide, half your weapons not working, the tidal wave of bugs.

>You were home free.

>Execute run-away.exe

>...

>run-away.exe has encountered a problem, would you like to restart? [yes/no]

"fuck fuck fuck fuckingfuckfuckfu-"

>Panic gripped at you as the left leg seized with a loud clatter when you tried to pull it away from the lip of the newly formed crater.

>You dug your right heel in to drag it off, but you weren't moving, if anything you were edging closer towards the crater.

>The rumbler's engines howled in protest as you put all the strength you could muster into stopping your unwilling advance forward.

>Easier said than done when your body was drenched in grease, sweat, and exhaustion, everything burned and you were fighting to keep your strength.

>You bent the torso downwards the get a good look at what was happening, what you saw almost stopped your heart for a second.

>A fucking Scarab had seized its pincer-like jaws around the left ankle, and was trying to tug you down into the pit.

>Scarabs were armored beetles the size of a double decker bus on steroids, and their favorite hobbies included digging, being evil, and dragging innocent mechs into pit traps.

>NOPE

>Jamming down on all the triggers for the frag cannons slung on the underside of the torso, you hoped like hell they worked.

>You were rewarded for your efforts, 6 double barreled cannons barked HE fragmenting canister shot simultaneously.

>The Scarab was thoroughly pulverized, your optics were splattered in gore and dark ichor, it was probably all over the front of the mech, you would have to clean that later, you scowled.

>You scowled harder as the dead bastard wasn't letting go.

>Your scowl only grew more intense as the scarab's limp body started slumping back into the crater, determined even in death to drag you down.

>It reached some sort of critical volume of sheer, incandescent rage as with an ear splittingly loud tear and shuddering of metal coming apart, the scarab's corpse absconded with the lower half of your leg and your mech lost its balance completely, falling backwards and spinning counter-clockwise towards the road.

>You didn't even bother crying out or continuing your chain of expletives, but you were sure your face had contorted into the sort of image of frothing madness they put in a museum and called a warmask.

>Before you hit the ground one thought occurred to you, why the hell didn't your proximity alarm sound, your sub-gunner was supposed to warn you about tha-

>oh, right

>You should have tried harder to stay in the motorpool.

>Then a thumping pain shot into your everything and all went dark.

---

<the infantry>

>That stray Rumbler was exactly what you needed to get out of the mess your lieutenant had put you in.

>The lieutenant that was valiantly leading the charge... away from the enemy, with their tail between their legs.

>You largely spent your time in the rearguard, alternating between madly sprinting towards the hill, and safety, and shunting bullets into any bug that looked like it was getting too close to your big friend.

>Your thoughts had been wandering quite a bit towards who the hell the pilot could even be, you mean, they DID just save your skin.

>The briefing never even mentioned a rumbler unit in your local area, and the one you were looking at now had practically just magic'd out of a landslide.

>It's not like you hadn't tried to identify what unit it was with, but half the plates were missing or burnt and the whole machine was covered in a caked on layer of dust and rocks to make any identifying markings illegible.

>Yet still you were plagued with questions of who they were, a rapacious officer type? a self styled knight in modern armor? or maybe a spunky mechanic adorned with an adequate sprinkling of grease. That's the type of people that drove those things, at least thats what the Propaganda showed you.

>You had almost stopped cold when that Juggernaut showed up, you were slamming a round home into a bug's chest and when you turned around you were staring down 4 barrels so large you could crawl inside them.

>Covering your ears quickly was all that saved you from going deaf, even the built in noise suppressors in your earpieces would not handle a Juggernaut's guns going off so close.

>You spared a quick glance back towards your stalwart rear guard. 4 massive shell craters formed a small crevasse through what was once the road, and a decent chunk of the town, the bugs seemed puzzled about how to get around it.

>The rumbler was standing a little close to the crater lip looking... almost bewildered, could a machine even express body language?

>Maybe the pilot was just a tad bit shell shocked and was contemplating their survival.

>You popped the rest of your mag into the hoard just for a little catharsis. A bug immediately catching a round in the head and tumbling into the crater, 2 more joined it.

>And then you turned and started jogging off towards the hill, only to be stopped in your tracks when you heard a loud clanging and the roar of engines followed by a overtone of dozens of explosions overlapping at once.

>Clutching at your ears you barely heard a cacophony of shrieking metal and a loud crash behind you.

>And there you saw it, the rumbler pitched over onto its side, engines stalled, unmoving.

>Most of its left leg was missing, a steady pool of oil was accumulating to its rear, and you had a dreadful premonition that the fuel leak would soon ignite.

>You would be damned if you let this pilot die like that, and you broke into a sprint towards the fallen titan.

>Looking back you could see only a pair of medics were following in your wake with a stretcher, fucking really?!

>This battered bastard had saved the whole platoon and you were the only non medical trooper going back?

>You made a mental note to write this off in your report as your LT inspiring cowardice. A field officer being a coward themselves didn't garner much attention, but when those same instincts spread to the cannon fodder? no, can't be having that.

>That was the sort of thing that got rookie officers busted down with a doubled demotion, and let certain persons stop being passed over for well earned promotions from said officers.

>You were still wearing your Corporal's stripes, you had seen more action than half of the green sad-sacks in the unit, but every time a round of promotions came you were passed over.

>You had to suffer the insult of a private under you being launched over your head directly into NCO territory, commanding their own squads, twice.

>Your own Sergeant didn't even let you command the other fireteam, you were always stuck under their thumb, they balked "veterans advice" to you as the other Corporal in the squad was given charge of the other half of your little knot of troopers.

>You absolutely fucking hated it.

>Scrambling on top of the inclined backplate you found the hatch that lead into the operators compartment, maybe this mysterious pilot could distract you from your ever bubbling anger from being treated like a pair of old boots by the incompetent that ran your outfit.

>You pulled hard on the lockbar, it was bent out of shape and really wanted to stick, landslide damage you guessed.

>Pressing your legs against the armored collar that protected the lip of the hatch and heaving the bar popped backwards, throwing you on your ass.

>You slid the hatch open, sunlight peering a yellow shaft down into the darkness of the compartment, and you popped your head through, laying eyes on the pilot that had saved your hide.

>Well.. You certainly weren't expecting this.

---

<the pilot>

>Bleary eyed, you slipped in and out of consciousness, you couldn't remember exactly what happened, your head felt light, you were dangling from the ruins of your armature.

>Shit, thats a lot of blood, you hope it isn't yours.

>Your side hurts.

>You remember something about bugs and smoke.

>You felt angry, not sure why

>A bright shaft of light practically blinds you.

>It's heaven come to judge you.

>And they sent a pretty weird angel.

>You weren't sure you wanted to go, but those eyes, those luminous blue jewels seemed, surprised?

>Maybe you had died too soon.

>You could have a second chance if you were good right?

>Lips moving, something flew from your mouth you couldn't hear or think on, a last confession for your wounded soul.

>You were so tired.

>You needed a nap, anywhere was good.

>Those blue eyes kept watch as you drifted away.

>You heard the voice of your mother.

>A gentle song that echoed to you softly from the void you sank into.

>You hoped she was happy up there, you may not be able to join her.

>But in no time at all, the chorus faded, and you had the sense of weight about you again, you were on your back.

>Your bearings seemed to return to you, though you still felt every limb and breath sink with exhaustion.

>Hauled off towards safety in some sort of stretcher, the sun kissed your eyes with warmth, you denied it because that motherfucker was too bright.

>You strained your ears to listen over the clinking of equipment harnesses and the stamping of boots.

>Voices, what they said was too distant to make out, but they were female, of this you were reasonably sure.

>Your blind ass had just stumbled out of a landslide and saved a female infantry unit, maybe today wasn't the worst moment you had since that one time in high school.

>You sighed dreamily, forgetting your injuries, and promptly remembering them as your lungs twisted into knots under your chest.

>Retching your lungs out a second time today, you did not want to get used to this feeling.

>Someone laid a hand on your chest to steady your coughing.

>This hand felt like it was wrapped in shag carpet, and you felt small points, those were claws.

>Well, you just landed yourself as a casualty in the laps of a female ANTHRO infantry unit.

>fffuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-

>You faded back towards the blissful unawareness that was unconsciousness.

>If you didn't wake up, well, then you would find out if those rumors about anthros eating their wounded were actually a load of bullshit or not.

---

>Pleasant, floating darkness, you weren't just k.o.'d anymore, you were dreaming.

>It was at this time your brain decided to waste your precious rest with an impromptu history lecture.

>You tried to shoo away the hazy slideshow forming in front of you, but your rest was too deep, and you had little sense of self other than you are... somewhere.

>You were never good at the whole lucid dreaming thing.

>A few passages from H.G. Wells' War of The Worlds rolled by, making you hope for a little that you could dream of something fun, like seeing how poorly tripods would stand up against a rumbler.

>Then the slideshow began and immediately drew your attention and being completely in its dull enrapture.

>Goddamn exposition.

>You thought you were done with this shit in school.

>It was less a slideshow, more a slow animation, a very rough one.

>Your likely damaged brain recalling historical events it wasn't there for and didn't pay much attention to in class.

>You always liked older history, before the asteroid, before the panic over Firefall.

>Back when it was merely the twists and turns of the human species, being... well, human. Faults and flaws included.

>After the object came into the public knowledge it was all such a panicked scramble.

>Endless preparation and deliberation over a single facet, even before that night two years ago, the ship had overstayed its welcome.

>It all started a little over 50 years ago, 1946, when a drunk skygazer in New Mexico focused his ratty telescope on just the right slice of black to catch sight of something.

>A month later an actual astronomer came by, following a poorly worded report of a giant space rock, determined that he was just going to be looking at the asteroid belt and wasting a trip.

>Within a week the entire American Astronomer's community was raising merry hell over a rock a quarter the mass of our fucking moon on collision course.

>Soon every scope in America was looking at the same thing, and to their relief the astronomers figured out there wouldn't be a direct collision, by the time it got here it would simply be making a worryingly close pass, and it wasn't going to crash into the moon or anything.

>They also identified that it wasn't a space rock, but a space boat.

>This raised a whole new set of problems.

>In a meeting behind closed doors, President Truman correctly deduced this was a problem that could not be solved by a third B-29 with a suspiciously large bomb.

>Soon a lot more meeting were held behind a lot more closed doors, a lot of different doors.

>Many, many mutual defense pacts were signed.

>In 1950, knowledge of an asteroid was made public, they neglected to mention it was actually a ship.

>This caused a brief panic, until some genius pointed out the bi-line that said, 'NOT going to strike the earth and kill us all'.

>Then in 1958, the first generation of anthros stumbled out of genetics labs worldwide.

>You fell asleep during that lecture so the details were sparse to you, but some self described genius found some protein inside of E.Coli that made genetic therapy as easy as building blocks. Used this process to manufacture about a hundred thousand animal people, and then promptly died, or was assassinated, you cant remember which.

>In 1960 a leak clarified the asteroid was in fact a ship, and the spiking tensions over 'fuckin animal people' were put on hold for the apocalypse.

>In 1970 the mutual defense pacts solidified their globalist tendrils and the official formation of the Terran Alliance was announced. Just in time for the Soviet Union to fold over like a house of cards, and for China to shatter into warring states again in celebration.

>Soon the TA's first official actions were policing a civil war, so that we could at least hold the title of 'organized rabble' before the aliens came down to kill us all.

>By 1975 China was stable.. sort of.

>The newly christened Earth Defense Force went on history's most intensive recruiting drive, though most people just recognized it as the TA's military arm.

>By 1980 every military lab worth its salt was pumping out new prototypes by the dozens, including what led to the development of gyro walkers such as the Juggernaut, which then leaped into Auger mechs, like your precious Rumbler.

>As well as enough guns to arm the other 11.

>Then 1990 hit, and the war footing was full on, doomsday was only 5 years away, EDF and TA propaganda hung off every street corner like so much patriotic detritus.

>The recruiting drive turned into a full on draft.

>You weren't sure how you evaded the draft for so long, but after Firefall, the recruiting officer eventually popped around your house.

>You politely argued that since you knew your way around cars, you would be best suited to a quiet posting in the motorpool, away from the bugs.

>Although your father helpfully informed you that you were a lot less polite than you thought you were, the recruiting officer evidently either believed your bullshit or was greener than the emerald isles themselves.

>When your posting orders arrived in the mail, you were to report to a motorpool assignment after basic training.

>You had hung out there for a while, fixing trucks and logistics vehicles while "real" mechanics took a look at any tanks or heavier hardware that needed fixing.

>A few of your tips to the rookie engineers must have not gone unnoticed and soon people started figuring out that 1. you knew more about machines than you let on and 2. You fit the dimensions and physical fitness requirements to be a mech jock.

>Most of your fellows in the motorpool tended to be smaller, weedier men, and commonly used you to ship around heavy parts and boxes on base.

>Making constant jogs across EDF bases, some of which can measure miles across, while toting around oil canisters and boxes stuffed with industrial grade engine parts had given you the impromptu endurance training regiment of a lifetime.

>You sweat like a pig on a rotisserie at first but you could still get the day's work done.

>Soon the runs became routine, and steadily grew longer, and more dangerous when you were posted at field bases.

>MBT blow a header during battle and is stranded away from all the fun while its crew bitches about wanting to get back in the fight before it ends? Ring up the motorpool and ask for you to run their replacement parts out to them, bypassing the usual traffic jams on the supply roads.

>Soon enough you made a part run that changed your life for the worst, when you were called on to run a camshaft and assorted spare parts out to a stranded Rumbler.

>It was a bit closer to the front lines than usual, and bug stragglers hadn't been mopped up quite yet, but how could you say no?

>You had never seen a Rumbler up close before, and so you took the risk.

>Your 'friends' at the motorpool looked weedier and weedier as you loaded up your pack and crates and took off at a steady jog, you weren't some gigantic freak, but your fairly sure with the unintentional power lifting and endurance runs you were well over 200 pounds of muscle by now. Hard work has a way of doing that to people.

>On the way there a lone bug had tried to claw you apart, you emptied your sidearm into its head, 6 shots of .44 magnum, your pretty sure that was overkill, maybe you had a problem with disproportional force, this happened twice more along the way.

>Reloading your revolver for the third time, you lovingly brushed the dark purple goop and blood the bug got over your precious when the dim punk thought he was lucky.

>Your dad handed you this gun before you shipped out for deployment, you were never going to lose it.

>The first tip off that something was wrong when the Rumbler's commander, a man built rather similarly to you with a waving mane of blonde hair saw you rounding the corner with a camshaft stuffed into your pack, a crate full of parts over your left shoulder, and a smoking revolver in your free hand and shouted "Heya Dirty Harry, How's it goin?!"

>Commanders were never this friendly, and this guy had the shoulder pips of the unit leader.

>And he asked about you before even mentioning the parts he needed to get his machine up and running.

>A miles long run combined with fighting for your life three times in a row had shrouded the obvious to you at the time.

>You were being recruited.

>shit

>By the end of the day you had fallen right into the trap, the commander got rather friendly with you, you helped him install the new parts, he treated you to a light drink, and then not so subtly suggested you send in an application for a transfer to his unit.

>And you fucking did.

>What the hell was wrong with you?

>At least you actually fit in with the guys in the rumbler unit when you got there.

>And although your first steps were shaky, you took to the auger system like a natural.

---

>Before your dream recounted more of your history, it ended, and you started turning into the waking world, your slow thoughts warming up to your present situation, likely surrounded by fem anthros and rendered helpless by your injuries.

>Likely to wake up to a blur of fur dye and pent up sexual energy violating you.

>Likely to be passed around like an object around the whole regiment.

>Likely to die of exhaustion as they pushed you further and further.

>Of all the anthro centered gossip you heard flitting about the motorpool and the mech park, one subject stuck out a lot more above the others, animal girls thought of human dick as some sort of holy grail.

>Normally it seemed like half joking trash talk against the males, species A has a case of micropenis, species B are natural bottoms and their women aren't satisfied, species C has barbs on their johnson, species D has the stamina of an 80 lb. asthmatic... etc. etc.

>It all appeared to be the typical on base fun and games bored soldiers get up to.

>You even remembered Dylan, a 5'8" coyote joking along and laughing at all the little quips... until canids came up.

>It was at this point Dylan stated religiously defending 'the knot' like his life depended on it.

>You felt for the poor mutt, in a fit of retardation he had stepped right into the trap laid out for him in plain view.

>He and the other mechanics traded verbal blows, the pro human camp determined to dismantle whatever points the coyote bought up.

>Eventually he made long, impassioned points about how yes, while the female would be effectively stuck against the male after the... release, such long, unbroken intimacy was something to be dreamed about.

>It actually seemed to be making a few mechanics reconsider as they mulled it over.

>Until you stepped in with an anecdotal sledgehammer

>You raised the point that if the poor femdog wanted to rest or do something other than hold the very definition of a long, awkward, forced conversation, it would only stoke ire between the two. And any male with a knot would have to be above and beyond in holding attention and conversation.

>You slammed the point home that with Dylan's propensity to stutter and trip over his words when talks dragged on too long, with the hours they could be anchored together, it would dissolve into an awkward mess that would only harm the relationship.

>The human mechanics nodded enthusiastically in agreement.

>Dylan then sulked in the corner in defeat the rest of the night.

>But fuck Dylan, he had stolen your gun while you were sleeping one night, and raced around the base cracking off jokes and lies surrounding the very personal engravings along its silvery surface.

-engravings offer no tactical advantage watso-

>no brain, were not doing that

>Since you couldn't beat his ass senseless due to those pesky things called rules, you settled for undermining his sexual confidence instead, in lieu of a more physical payback.

>With all of this anecdotal evidence and wild rumors flying around your dome, your fear addled mind could only assume the worst.

>Which is why as you slowly creeped your eyes open, you were pleasantly surprised.

>You were face up in a plush bed, warm covers lay across you, you felt well rested, pleasantly dulled, and all of your wounds had been thoroughly seen too.

>You looked around, seeing a solid roof over your head, and large windows along the far wall, a hospital.

>And only one anthro in site.

>What you assumed was a wolf, having quiet conversation with a clustering of officers on the far side of the hall.

>You smiled contentedly as you watched the sky through the window.

>You passed that smile along to a nearby nurse.

>Who, taking notice, strode over to the officers and politely interrupted their conversation, and as one they all turned to you.

>Your smile was gone now.

"why me?"

>Softly dropping your head into the pillow, you listened with growing dread as the tapping of dress shoes slowly plodded up to the foot of your bed.

>Deciding wisely not to be an irreproachable ass to the people that could make your life a living hell as soon as you could walk straight, you sat yourself up against the pillows and took them in.

>Two of the officers you recognized, the first was Colonel Murrow, the immediate superior of your unit commander, and the man in command of the 512th Armored Fusiliers, your battalion.

>The second was a short, rounder man, advanced in his age, which you recognized as the local base commander.

>Four others stood with them.

>One was a short, blonde woman with a pixy cut, flanked by two abnormally tall men with short raven black hair, all of them wore slate grey greatcoats which you didn't recognize. The ensemble was complete with peaked caps.

>You wondered briefly if the wonder trio was trying on purpose to look like off brand nazis.

>The last was the wolf you saw before, still in field uniform and wearing the bars of a 2nd lieutenant, you could hazard a guess where she came from.

>Her fur was a dull charcoal, and her off white mane teased into a regal looking fluff that clung around her head, neck, and upper chest.

>At least it would be regal if she bothered fucking brushing it.

>Forcing a chipper edge to your voice and a very slight smile, you spoke before the questions could start.

"Mornin sirs!"

>"It's three in the evening." One of the lanky fascists spoke in an inflection so flat HAL 9000 would be proud.

>You immediately decided you didn't like the robot, or its twin.

"Pardon my ignorance sirs, I came down with a minor coma."

>You were on painkillers and morphine, you could get away with letting a bit of your natural charm edge in.

>The tinman opened his mouth to remark again but you cut him off.

"So... What are ya here for sirs? I never get so many visitors at once."

>"Yes, lets cut to the chase shall we?" said Murrow with a heavy sigh, thank fuck he was in your corner. You hated talking to the robot.

>Murrow turned to you. "Look kid, this is about reassignment, we got chopped up bad out there, your unit especially."

"How many others made it out?"

>Murrow only looked down, shoulders sinking as he sighed.

>You dropped the facade of a doped up smile. He wasn't saying what you think he was saying, he had to be overplaying it right?

"Sir... How many?"

>He shook his head solemnly.

>Your heart was twisting, and your expression soured further.

>It may have sent you into a heap of tears if the revelation hit you in a quieter moment, but right now you were mad.

>Mad at the bugs

>Mad at the world

>Mad at these fucking analysts staring at you like a data point on a board

>Mad at that fucking wolf that kept eyeing you from the back like you were either a toy or a piece of meat

>Mad at yourself for failing

>The woman spoke.

>"The 512th is in pitiable shape, over seventy percent casualties, we were not expecting a counter offensive on such a scale."

>"...Due to this, survivors of the 512th are being folded into other mechanical divisions, yet command saw fit to try something different with you given a relative inexperience with standard mech operational procedure."

>Translation: were sorry for your loss, someone fucked up but we wont punish them, fuck you and your feelings, everyone is being split apart and sent back to the front, your a fuckup with little experience and no shiny things on your jacket so you can go to hell and be some analysts' guinea pig.

>"To that end, you are to be officially attached to the 606th infantry battalion, B company, 2nd platoon." She concluded with a prim and professional smile, as fake as the congratulating tone of her voice.

>you threw your head back into the pillows with a groan.

>You considered running her out of the room with a screaming match but the painkillers were wearing off and half your body started protesting any movement with a dull ache.

>You were about to raise protest but luckily Colonel Murrow did it for you.

>"You want to waste one of my pilots on an infantry outfit?" he asked, incredulous.

>You were certain you weren't one of his pilots anymore

>You weren't sure if you even wanted to be.

>"Oh no it is not a waste, We are interested in seeing how independent mech operators will fair operating in close support of, and cooperation with, infantry."

>"So this is some hackneyed field trial? why not get a more experienced pilot?"

>"Experienced pilots are only open to operating with other mechs or armored elements, its rare to see them acting in such direct support of infantry, unlike our friend here." she said with a gesture towards you.

>No good deed unpunished.

>"Thanks for that by the way. Really saved my tail!" The she-wolf spoke up.

>'my tail', did she even consider the men. er. women underneath her?

>She flashed a toothy grin while staring right at you with dull silver eyes.

>With the rest of her coloration, it it weren't for the yellow trim on her uniform, you would swear she looked like a faded monochrome photo.

>You locked eyes with her and stared her down as you scowled, remembering most wolf anthros didn't appreciate extended eye contact from those they weren't familiar with.

>You weren't sure if the almost imperceptible sting around your eyes was from your anger or exhaustion.

>Her cocky grin faded and she broke eye contact first after a few tense seconds.

>Big mistake, she had shown weakness.

>The woman turned to face you again, clasping her hands and smiling gently.

>You could feel it coming but you sincerely hoped maybe your suspicions were wrong.

>"And this is 2nd lieutenant Vilka, Once your transfer papers are in order you'll be taking direction from her" The woman seemed to chirp as she gestured to the wolf. You were really starting to hate that forced optimism.

>Your soon to be direct superior was a literal bitch.

>She also seemed to be fresh out of officer school, uniform two sizes too big, lacking sense of hygiene, slouching like she was overworked, overeager, you could practically taste rookie officer in the air.

>Rookie officers tended to get men killed.

>Men like you.

>"Any Questions?"

>You were about to ask where you could file your section-8 but the wolfess spoke first.

>"Just to clarify with the master sergeant here, he's only taking orders from me correct?"

>"Yes, as platoon leader you are the one responsible for delivering directives to maximize unit co-efficiency in the field, unless you are incapacitated or otherwise unable to assume command, at that point the master sergeant and his rumbler will fall under normal unit cohesion."

>A thin smile had dawned on her muzzle and you swore you could see her bushy tail wagging slowly, she turned to you with a thoughtful look and then stared out the windows.

>You don't have a good feeling about this.

>The rest of the officer's hemming and hawing went by without much input or attention from you, you were busy thinking and lamenting the impossibility of your position.

>It sounded like you were handpicked by multiple interested parties to be the star of the show for this little experiment, backing out would ruin you.

>Your dad, even with his factory job, wouldn't be able to take care of the house without your paycheck, signed by the same people that wanted to put your mech under the thumb of an infantry officer so green she might as well be an emerald.

>Said officer kept stealing curious glances at you, likely enamored with her new toy.

>Tough luck bitch, your mech was shot out from under you and left in bug territory, so you were just dead weight.

>At least until you recovered.

>Eventually you decided to just skip the pretense and picked up your old technical manual and flipped to the section on the auger system, giving yourself a refresher course over what bound man and machine.

>You couldn't just ask a pack of officers, however politely, to fuck off and leave you to your angry sulking.

>The passive aggressive hinting got across in time and they broke off the conference, the wonder trio stamping off with the base commander.

>Murrow passed you a look of sympathy and then quietly shuffled out.

>Thanks a lot asshole, if you really were sorry you would have kept the battalion together.

>The she-wolf stuck around for a little while longer, evidently attempting at small talk, and then finally taking the hint and leaving when you refused to give more than one word answers or look at anything but your encyclopedia of mech knowledge.

>Somehow she managed to get lost on her way out the door.

>goddamn butterbars.

>At least that little reminder of normalcy made you feel just the slightest bit better.

>But still, it stung.

>The nurse eventually came around again and let you know the extent of your injuries.

>2 broken ribs, 3 more fractured, Right leg compound fracture, left shoulder dislocated and fractured, numerous contusions and minor lacerations, a few first degree burns, and finally a major laceration on your left side, it was a miracle your intestines hadn't fallen out.

>So that WAS all of your blood.

>And to round off the pain parade, a concussion with a minor skull fracture on your left temple.

>She refreshed your painkillers and gave you a small ampule of morphine when she moved your gimped leg and you just about exploded.

>She then puttered off to attend to other patients.

>And left you alone.

>Confident that no one was paying attention to you anymore, you bought the manual closer to your head.

>And you started quietly sobbing, using the thick book to hide your tears from the other soldiers in the ward.

>Everyone you had gotten to know and get along with in the rumbler unit was gone now.

>The one that hurt most was Obie, you never expected to run into your childhood friend out here.

>And he.... he died in the landslide, your support vehicles caught up in the crush just the same as your mechs.

>The guys in the motorpool never treated you as anything but a coworker, and you did the same.

>now

>...

>You had nobody.

>You didn't care your cheeks were getting wet and salty.

>The bitter taste of your sorrow on your lips wouldn't snap you out of it.

>The crushing vice on your heart kept you there.

>Eventually the tears ran dry.

>Setting the manual down, you pressed yourself into the pillows and pulled the sheets up to surround you.

>Why won't this hurt just leave?

>You fell asleep as the sun set, wishing you could just quit and go home.

---

>It was far from a restful or long sleep, and you were staring at the ceiling again in no time, at least the sun had gone down and they turned off the lights.

>Laying there, thinking about nothing and feeling sad until you felt eyes on you.

>You tried to ignore the feeling, a passing nurse was likely just checking on everyone.

>It wasn't going away

>you thought with trepidation over who the hell it could be.

>You huffed softly as you moved to pick yourself up.

>Your brain had been running in circles with the 'anthros are pent up sexual monsters' angle all night.

-its that lieutenant for sure... you saw how she was eyeing you up-

-soon as you meet her eyes shes gonna jump you, your gonna get WOL-

>goddamnit brain, n-

>...

>those eyes

>You passed them off as a hallucination at first, you could scarcely believe such an intense, vivacious shade of blue existed.

>Despite everything there they were, striking you to your core, glimmering softly in the dim light like perfectly cut sapphires.

>You stared, losing a sense of time, you stared despite something telling you that maybe you shouldn't.

>You stared, because last you saw those eyes, you thought they were perfection descended from heaven.

>"um.... hey."

>....

>shit. what the fuck could you say? 'thanks for saving me, your eyes are hypnotizing, please don't leave'?

>You finally managed to pull your gaze away from the blue, you would swear those things were magnetic the way they just seemed to draw your attention.

>You settled for simple.

"hi."

>Don't want to scare off your guardian angel with your raging angst.

>A warmth flushed into your face.

>Shit, were you... blushing??

>Something lessened the grip in your chest and you felt your heart rattling its cage.

>She was just some trooper that pulled you out of a rough spot, why was your throat tying itself up in a bow?

>...A trooper with the most beautiful eyes you had ever seen...

>GODDAMNIT

>STOP TRIPPING OVER YOURSELF AND SAY SOMETHING

>You coughed lightly.

"so.. you were the one that pulled me out of my wreck... right?"

>She nodded.

>Catching the faint whispers of a silhouette as your eyes adjust to the dark, you saw a muzzle, and a pair of tall ears as she moved.

>Some sort of canine.

>You thought over how long she was just going to stand over you, examining, but before your runaway mind could make any nasty conclusions she spoke again.

>"look.. this might be a little weird but just trust me. ok?"

>Wait what

>The securing warmth of your covers dissipated as she pulled them off you.

>And you suddenly realized even with half your body covered in gauze, bandages and casts you were a bit exposed. Only wearing your under uniform, functionally just grey boxers with a grey and black tanktop.

>She leaned over and forced her Arms behind your knees and upper back, and hoisted you up in a carry.

>your sensitive nerves and eyes couldn't help getting a sense of her as she did this

>Her arms were covered in a short, dense fur that was smooth and silky, and powerful muscles coiled just underneath.

>Holy hell she was strong, like a rock covered in a goose down comforter.

>She was amazingly delicate as she lifted you off your bed, only illiciting a soft groan from you.

>Her ear flicked at attention and she pulled you close in towards her middle as she rose.

>You were further off the ground than you thought you'd be, evidently she was tall too.

>Those sapphire eyes reassured you that she meant no harm.

>Otherwise you might be freaking the fuck out.

>Still this was more than just a bit forward, and your brain was running around screaming that you were being dragged off for snu snu.

"Ooookay, where are we going? why are you holding me? and why are you touching me?"

>"Outside. You can't walk. And I wanted to repay you personally for saving me."

>The faintest trace of a smile glinted on her muzzle.

>You tensed up over the thought of being thanked, outside, personally~, while out of earshot of the hospital staff.

>"Don't worry, it's not a sex thing."

>Her smile shied away slightly.

>Did she just read your fucking mind or something?

>You had exited the ward and continued along the dim hallways.

>It would be more creepy if you didn't have this tower of a woman carrying you.

>You looked up and caught her eyes again, despite the darkness they still seemed to shine with light.

>"Heh, believe me, if I wanted to ravage you i could think of a lot better ways to do it."

>The chorus to A Flock Of Seagulls' I Ran (So Far Away) started echoing in the back of your head.

>not cool brain

>not cool

>You tensed again, uneasy about where this was going.

>Your eyes refused to adjust any further to the shade on this moonless night, but as you passed a window you thought you caught a glance of her ears wilting.

>Everything about her was throwing you through a loop, was she trying to keep you on edge, or perhaps she honestly didn't have a handle on how to talk to you yet?

<her>

>'Ravage you'... did you really just fucking say that?

>What the fuck is wrong with you?

>He tensed in your grip again, and your ears wilted.

>You were just trying to do something nice for the poor guy and here you were low key threatening him with a subtext that smelled of rape.

>At least he didn't raise too much protest when you picked him up.

>And he seemed hesitant, but willing to go along with you for now.

>You think it had something to do with your eyes, when you found him, dangling in his mech and half dead, he had locked eyes with you until he fell unconscious.

>And again he stared right into you for an uncomfortably long time when you met each other's gazes.

>He was hard to read, immobile ears, no tail.

>But you could feel the tension in his injured form.

>His face smelled faintly of salt and wetness, the smell clinging to his nearly naked skin, you could tell he had been crying.

>Your heart sank as you remembered your debriefing, his entire unit wiped out, his battalion broken up and soon to be folded into other units.

>He needed someone right now, someone to at least keep him occupied so he wouldn't think on his loss too much.

>He shivered, and you almost stopped to think about bringing him back to the ward and getting his blankets.

>Yet a familiar tinge of scent hit your nose as you inhaled.

>He was scared.

>For fucks sake say something you dumb bitch.

>Fix this!

"Look, uh, sorry about the... sex quips. Just not used to humans ya know?"

>He grunted uncertainly, some of the tension receding, but he still felt like a coiled spring in your arms.

>The last thing you needed was for him to get flighty and hurt himself while trying to move, that would go on a report for sure.

>Then your damn sergeant would sit you down and have another lecture about 'temper' and 'control' and 'ego' and 'not striking a superior officer even though she has more fur than brains'.

>That last point was definitely you, but the rest of it could easily apply to Vilka.

>She was the one that needed the talk, not you.

>As you made your way towards the rear balcony another smell hit your nose, the fresh scent of water, with a touch of salt.

>Dammit, now look what you did.

>You had left him to his own thoughts too long, and the tears were about to start again.

>You looked down past your shoulder, and met his eyes again. They were wet, and glistened as you passed another window.

>You took a quick breath, and cooed softly.

"Hey"

>It seemed to work, he stopped mid breath and seemed to still, you were quickly learning humans, or at least this one in particular, liked eye contact.

>Your instincts in the back of your head didn't agree with you, the primal bits in your head still quietly asserting there was some contest of dominance between you two as your eyes met.

>But you bit them back, for his sake.

>He was teetering on a precarious edge that led down a very long slope.

>You had seen this before, too much time alone and he could spiral straight down.

>Down low enough to consider...

>Taking his own life.

>The thought made the fur on your neck stand on end.

>You had to gently pull him away from that edge, you had helped him before, you would do it again, no one else would.

>Couldn't have your knight in shining armor offing himself could you?

>Well he wasn't a knight, and the shining armor was pitted, burned, and drenched in grease but the point still stood.

>He had saved your ass, and everyone else in the platoon, you owed him this much.

>Really every conniption you had about the shiny, chivalrous mech pilots was shattered today.

>You peeled open that hatch expecting some unflappable 8 foot tall tiger to give you a thumbs up and a bow.

>Not someone just as young, scared, and confused as you.

>Which is why you spoke with sincerity.

"I'm sorry about how I'm handling this, you must be pretty nervous, but... well, I couldn't just let you mope around and spiral into sadness. What you need right now is some fresh air. Someone to talk too, being by yourself while in the pits is rough. I know. So... I decided to be here for ya!"

>His tension seemed to slowly melt as you rounded a corner leading out to the balcony.

>You drew your lips in a closed smile, feeling a little easier, you could do this, just be careful with where the conversation goes.

>You pushed open the checkered door leading out into the open balcony.

>It was still early in the night, and the air was pleasantly cool, the warmth from the day not sapped away yet.

>There was no moon tonight, and nothing but an endless band of stars hung in the dark.

>You set him down on one of the loungechairs, he made even less of a groan than he did when you picked him up.

>Fuck Vilka, you had a subtle touch when you needed it.

>You leaned back into the other loungechair, it wasn't quite fashioned to handle your size, and it creaked a bit under your weight.

>You silently worried about it folding under you, you at least hoped if it did snap in two he would find it amusing.

>You looked over towards him, he seemed to be trying to avoid your eyes, likely thinking back at how awkward he must have looked staring at you like an expectant pup.

>But you caught his gaze again and he seemed subtly entranced, his favorite color MUST be blue.

>You held an expectant look and a slight smirk, edging him into saying something and projecting an air of confidence to help him along.

>While waiting you took him in through your peripheral vision.

>While definitely shorter than you, he really fit the description you had in your head of a dude that struggled sweatily against a full body armature all day

>A body built for endurance and strength rather than showing off, smooth and powerful, rather than bulging and brash.

>You hated so called body builders. building every tiny tendon into a veiny balloon. Bloating themselves up to the point of uselessness where they couldn't even scratch their back without pulling something. They weren't even all that strong, not really when compared to actual power lifters.

>It made you feel a bit squicky about your own physique, self conscious because you didn't fit within that narrowed definition of a strong woman.

>But him intaking breath to say something snapped you back to attention.

>"... thanks."

>You had to swallow down a happy whine that almost materialized in your throat.

>No crying, no mention of dead parents or what not, no moaning over what he lost, he was thanking you.

>You must be some kinda wizard.

>And to think Vilka and the sergeant kept saying you didn't know your way around people, fuck em'.

<him>

>You thanked her for what she was doing for you, going out of her way like this was something else.

>She was something else, and you had to bite back a bit on the fluttering your heart was doing, but there was no way you could suppress your blush, something in her eyes was just magical every time you stared at them.

>You managed to pull your eyes out of those deep pools again, you must look like a creep staring at her so much.

>You also heard a faint noise that she caught in the back of her throat, that seemed to rise after you thanked her.

>She must be talking to you like this to keep your spirits up, maybe she had seen someone in your position before, she seemed happy her method was working.

>She was right about fresh air, you didn't realize how stuffy the hospital was, the cool air nipped at your bare arms a bit, but you were warm enough for now. And something about the slight cold lifted a weight off you.

>Your eyes still refused to open up more, the doc must have given you something to keep your pupils from dilating too far, did you little good to see in the dark.

>It was slightly brighter outside but the moon had refused to show up, so you were still in the dark as to what exactly your mysterious canine looked like.

>So far you knew she was tall, strong, and had shorter fur, at least on her arms. Plus those enchanting blue eyes.

>You strained to glean more as she relaxed in the other chair.

>She moved a bit, and that you picked up on, she wasn't just tall, she was large too, and not in a bad way.

>You thanked whatever source there was for your fortune, after those two hawkish analysts, you didn't like lanky people.

>She had to be some larger variety of wolf, or maybe some XL dog breed, like a great dane or something.

>But she spoke up before your thoughts could run on too long.

>she was shepherding your wandering mind away from any dark places it may run into.

>The concern was genuine, and it warmed you.

>"Your not all alone right? ya gotta have someone out there that worries over ya."

>Your thoughts immediately went to your father, you barely even considered him in your depression other than without you he wouldn't be able to keep his own home.

>And here you were moping so hard that suicide may not have been as far away as you thought it was.

>Dad would be absolutely devastated if he lost his boy.

>Guilt practically punched you in the gut, but better to feel guilty than suicidal.

"My dad, he cares so much for me, He can't even keep the house afloat without my paycheck to help him along."

>You didn't question why you were sharing something so personal with her, she was trying to help, and thinking about your pops, you wanted that help.

>"Well, thats just one reason to keep forward. He wouldn't be pleased if you gave up on him right?"

"Right."

>"I know its not easy but, every time you think your in the dark, you just gotta tough out a bit, your in a tunnel sure, but that could be a corner just up ahead, and when your round it. Theres the light you were looking for."

>She had a beaming smile, you could see the starlight glinting off her teeth.

>You couldn't help but spread a thin smile of your own.

>"Your being assigned to our platoon soon, it won't be easy, but I'll help you whenever I can."

>You were really feeling better now.

"Thanks, that means a lot."

>Okay you definitely heard something that time. A short, light whine, that reminded you of your dog when you came home from school.

>And that just made you smile.

"You really that happy to get my thanks?"

>"er."

>You caught a flick of movement, her ears bounced low and she looked away from you, with what little body language you could pick up on she seemed sheepish.

>That's just fucking cute.

>"Guess the secret's out then huh? ... I guess I'm just happy the man that saved my life is thanking ME for something."

"Hey you saved my life too."

>She caught another whine before it could escape her lips but you still heard that slight peep from her throat.

>"That I did, but you saved more people than I did, people I know, so I owe you something right?"

"I wouldn't think of it like that."

>"Okay, stop mixing up my mental image of mech pilots."

"Sorry?"

>"When I first joined I thought of mech jocks as knights stomping around in giant suits of armor ya know?"

>"Then I met you and you seemed so scared and tired when I popped open that hatch, which really bought around my view of things."

>"But now here you are making me go right back to the knights in shining armor trope."

>Now it was your turn to be flustered.

>Hell you didn't think you could blush harder but you did.

"I uh, I'm not really the selfless noble type."

>"You sure about that, sir Lancelot?"

>HOLY SHIT. STOP

>You were worried about getting cold out here but you seemed to be getting even warmer than you did inside.

>Your face flushed with the licking flames of embarrassment, her praise conveyed as so genuine.

>You couldn't stop it, it jumped in your chest and crawled out your throat, a short demure giggle.

>Your dad would have a fucking field day if he saw you like this.

>As you looked back you could see more motion, that has to be her tail wagging, and it was only making you feel warmer.

>"You came out of nowhere and even with your armor all busted up you stuck to our rear guard, only a real 'selfless noble type' would do that. You really care about people, I can tell."

"Oh really now?"

>"Who else would let a big bad anthro take them out of their bed for a talk when they were so vulnerable?"

>the starlight glinted off a wide smile, her deep blue eyes warmed with joy.

>HNNNNNNNG

>You wanted to hide in a ball, you were redder than a dying star and you were certain she could SMELL your embarrassment.

>How the hell was she doing this to you?

>And to think you teased Dylan about tripping over his words.

>You weren't even tripping, just sliding along the floor, scrambling into walls.

>And she seemed all the happier for it, which just made the problem worse.

>"Now then, I know for sure lieutenant Vilka isn't going to make it easy for you to integrate alongside the troop, but you can ask me anything, and I mean anything and I'll be there for ya."

>"I've been in that troop for longer than most of the 'veterans' and I can help with anything you need to know to make things go smoother."

"Really, even though your still a corporal?"

>Her smile seemed to fade a bit at that and she cocked one of her ears, but she seemed to take it in stride.

>"Humph, yeah, I've gotten passed over for a loooong overdue promotion more than a couple times, even had two privates under me shot over my head without so much as a recommendation from me."

>"At first i just assumed Bureaucratic incompetence, but soon it just became inexcusable."

>"I've complained to the major, and even the colonel about it, repeatedly, but they won't give me the time of day."

>"Keep telling me that I have a temper problem or use some ancient disciplinary action as some half-assed excuse to keep me down."

>"That bitch Vilka is in on it too I swear, she takes every opportunity to yank my tail. Just because she knows in her fuzzy head that I would make a better lieutenant than her anyday, I wouldn't even get lost like she does."

>She finished with a pouting huff, you noticed she growled slightly whenever she mentioned Vilka, she must have really been peeved by her, and so were you.

>The way that wolf looked at you earlier in the day you felt like an object or a test subject, but your friend seemed to treat you with such a refreshing, genuine kindness.

>You had to repay her for this, and get her name too.

"Look you may not be able to due much but maybe I can, after all as the center of attention, maybe I can make some waves."

>Immediately she snapped to you, ears up and eyes wide, you caught her tail wagging furiously, and... was she panting?

>"Really!? You Would Do That?!?!"

"Sure, after all I made a hell of a friend tonight."

>"YES!!"

>She pumped her fist, tail whirling even faster, you could hear it.

>She then looked a bit taken aback as she sheepishly calmed herself.

>"... sorry. heh."

>You took the opportunity, as much as it discomforted you.

>You reached your right hand out in introduction, being careful not to twist too far or move your leg.

"Tom, Tom McWhicky"

>She looked at you thoughtfully, and then stuck out her own, clawed, hand. Clasping yours, you weren't even nervous about the claws.

>"Teth'ra, Teth'ra Magual"

>She had a strong shake and smiled fully, you returned the favor.

>Hell, your initials matched, maybe even your middle names.

>Fate seemed to work in strange ways.

>"Oughta get you back to bed so you can be ready, right?"

>You couldn't argue with that, you needed to get your rest.

"Sure, take me home squire!"

>"Alright, alright, don't make me drop you."

>The ride back to your ward was quiet, you barely felt much aching when she scooped you out of the chair.

>You wondered if it was practice or if she really was just that attentive.

>Maybe her sharpened senses had something to do with it.

>She deposited you so gently in your bed you barely recognized she had put you down until you sank into the mattress and she roughly threw your sheets back over you.

>You lay there for a few minutes, just feeling happy, than sleep seemed to rush over you as you drifted into it, still wearing a slight smile.

>She really did throw you through a loop.

---

<Teth'ra>

>You listened just around the corner to his ward with an ear tuned against the wall, you heard little, and eventually nothing, he had settled into his sleep without incident.

>A wave of relief washed over you, dragging a heavy breath out of your lungs.

>You did it.

>The others couldn't be more wrong about you.

>You strode the halls of the hospital, returning to the base proper.

>Wearing an idiot's grin the whole way.

[-------------------------------------------------------------Chapter End-------------------------------------------------------------]