Chapter Text
ELITE MILITARY FORCE MAKES HISTORICAL VICTORY AT EURYDICE
In an overwhelming display of Imperial military might, Imperial forces have successfully annexed the satellite colony located on the moon Eurydice, also known as HX-09-7. This colony served as an important foothold in the Riccian Alliance’s frontline, enabling their sustained acts of antagonism towards Imperial Forces, and of terror on the brave citizens of the Empire. Capturing this moon was instrumental in the war effort against the Riccian Alliance, providing a base for further aggression. High Colonel Antenora, a special officer in the Imperial Air Force, led an elite squad of state-of-the-art mechanical weapons platforms pilots, who were able to rout the enemy in a mere six hours. We cannot provide any more information at this time, but are eternally proud that the Empire continues to leverage its might against the hedonistic and barbaric Riccians. For as long as brave soldiers continue to fight for the liberty and justice of all citizens of the Empire, our wartime efforts will be eternally blessed with further decisive, crushing victory.
Marié stared at the small newspaper clipping nestled in her hand once again. It was one of the only clues that she’d had for a long time in tracking down what had happened to the love of her life. It had been folded and crumpled a few times - the outside edges of the clipping showed some wear from being carried around and moved from pocket to pocket. It had been two years since the war between the Vexillium Empire and the Riccian Alliance ended, and, in those two long years, she had learned a lot about this article. It was a small, hastily written editorial in the only military newspaper that was available at the time: public newspapers were not to report that this program even existed. By official instruction, any coverage of the Siege of Eurydice was to solely note that the Riccian Alliance, in its incredibly weak state, fell to the overwhelming might of the Vexillium Empire. Even in military newspapers, though, information was kept to a minimum: none of the pilots in these mechs were ever identified, and even “High Colonel Antenora” was merely a pseudonym. The woman in charge of the program, as Marié had come to learn, was neither a High Colonel nor named Antenora - both were deliberate obfuscations diffused by the Empire’s brass. The secrecy around this program and its purpose hadn’t been elucidated when the war was won by the Riccian Alliance either. It had simply meant that there were now even fewer people left alive who could give her the information she needed.
She was on the exact same moon where that climatic battle had taken place: the moon of Eurydice, orbiting the gas giant Chronos. It was seldom called Eurydice anymore, having had its previous name of HX-09-7 restored by the Riccian Alliance. Historically, it had initially been established as a mining colony, due, in part, to its fragmentary state - the satellite was believed to have suffered some cataclysm long before humans discovered it. The immense cobalt deposits found on Eurydice were its primary draw, useful for circuitry and metal alloys in military, as well as civilian, spacecraft. In the planetary system that Chronos existed in, Eurydice sat on the edge of the habitable zone, and, with its relatively thin atmosphere, represented the bare minimum of “livability” for companies to be capable of sending the poor and incarcerated to work here.
The conflict had been going in the Vexillium Empire’s favor right up until its entire war effort collapsed, whereupon the Riccian Alliance quickly retook its seized territories and began to gain significant ground. The colony clearly showed a lot of damage from the numerous battles that had taken place there. Its advantageous location in relation to Imperial and Riccian supply lines had led to the construction of a military base by the Riccians, and control over the moon had been fought over for at least two years. By far the most striking damage one could see was the colossal crater in the center of the colony. When the war’s tide had started to shift, Imperial soldiers, in their desperation to keep the satellite from being useful to the Riccians, detonated a neutron bomb in the center of the military base. The colony was now three fragments of buildings and infrastructure desperately trying to keep themselves together, all surrounding a massive crater gouged into the hard rock of the moon.
Marié needed to find her love once again. She missed those warm, comfortable nights where they huddled together and talked about what their future was going to be like. There was a certain wistfulness in the way that Emer would describe her future that Marie found comforting. Emer would stare at the scars on her hands and arms, gained from numerous battles during the Expansionary Wars, and talk about them finding their own place together as if it were an eventual certainty. She was always terrified of the ways her hands felt, her rough, scarred skin making her feel insecure and inadequate whenever she’d feel Marié’s soft, delicate hands.. Marié loved them anyway though - they were hands that knew how to hold her gently as they basked in each other’s company.
But the war against the Riccian Alliance had pulled Emer away from her. Despite firm assurances from the Empire that Emer had earned her retirement and would no longer need to engage in active service, she was forcibly drafted into the conflict all the same. Emer had gone quietly, without any resistance, and Marié never understood why she hadn’t fought back. Why hadn’t she fought to preserve their future together? There was a deluge of explanations and justifications that constantly ran through her head. Maybe Emer had stopped loving her. Maybe the Empire had threatened to kill her if Emer didn’t comply. The most terrifying option was that maybe, just maybe, Emer could never truly leave the battlefield behind. If that were so, There would surely be no future for a soldier like her. She had to find her so she could ask those questions and welcome her back home.
The holographic map sputtered and glitched as Marié tried her best to figure out exactly where she was. The cartographical data was never updated after the war, likely due to the fact that not many people chose to continue living on Eurydice after the detonation. As a colony, it was almost surely dead, slowly rotting away while young people left to go find work in bigger cities that remained whole and intact. While there was still cobalt to be potentially mined, any resources within the blast radius of the neutron bomb would have been obliterated in the blast, and any resources outside the colony limits were too dangerous to use anything but autonomous mining vehicles on. After figuring out where exactly on the map her current location was, Marié’s next objective was to attempt to find the boarding house she had the address of. It was on the back of the newspaper article, buried amongst the anxious notes and scribblings of someone who’d obsessively written down any information that could be important. There were a lot of crossed out leads, names written over and erased several times, and the haphazard, chaotic, sharp creases in the paper, indicating that it was crushed into a ball and then smoothed back out - the natural consequences of one’s frustration.
Major Dunamis. Last seen getting medical supplies from the Black Market on Eurydice. Likely not for herself.
This was all she had to go on. She knew the woman’s name now and she knew where she had last been seen. It was impossible to know if she was still on the satellite or not, but the northern fragment of the colony was the only section that still had a black market to speak of. It was the fragment that had been the least damaged both by the frequent battles and by the detonation; if she were anywhere on Eurydice, it would surely be here.
‘Anyone who is having to use the black market probably can’t afford to or can’t risk getting the supplies legally, so checking the boarding houses should be a good idea.’ Marié had told herself as she formulated her plan: she would go in, find the Major, and demand to know where her girlfriend was - what had happened to her. It was the closest thing she had to finding her love, and she would follow this trail to the end of the galaxy if she needed to.
---
Emer allowed her gaze to wander as she sat in the sterile room, waiting for her new commanding officer to show up. There were at least a dozen different women in the room with her, and Emer could tell some of them were more battle hardened than the others. It wasn’t quite correct to say there was a wide gamut of diversity here, though. There were a number of battle-hardened veterans as well as some young soldiers that seemed fresh out of military academy, but only one or two people who Emer could reasonably guess were in the middle. Active service but not long enough to have prominently visible scars. Out of the entire group so far though, Emer had already identified a problem member - one of the cadets. She was currently squatting on top of her chair, dressed in a neatly ironed and pressed military uniform from whose collar her long blonde hair flowed. Emer wasn’t even entirely sure if she could be called a woman really, given she could still pass for a teenager.
“Come onnnnnn, when is this bitch coming out already? I get grabbed minutes before I get to go out on the battlefield for this shit and I don’t even get a welcome!” Kathryn was her name, Emer grimly remembered - she had previously lambasted and yelled at the secretary for misspelling it. It certainly hadn’t given her the best first impression of the rookie. The other cadets were all grouped together around her, and while the air surrounding the bunch of them was ubiquitously indignant and rebellious, they clearly preferred if Kathryn was the one running her mouth. Emer could feel her patience wearing thin from the display.
“Just shut the fuck up and sit down.” A distinctly feminine, but very exasperated voice suddenly interjected from her left. She didn’t recognize the woman with light brown skin sitting next to her, but she could pretty clearly tell that this woman had been in service for a while. Her arm and neck were covered in tattoos, a large scar ran across her face, and she had made sure that her medals were at least nominally attached to her khaki shirt. Kathryn hopped off of the chair, grabbed it, then slammed it in front of the older woman in a single over-the-shoulder maneuver. With its backrest facing the new target of her ire, the upstart sat down smugly. The veteran looked at the display with a complete lack of amusement as Kathryn started leaning forward in the chair, trying to get as close to the woman’s face as possible. Emer couldn’t stand the shit eating grin that the rookie was wearing.
“What are you going to do about it? Punch me? I’m not scared of you retirees. My family is really important to the Empire, you know. That’s why I’m here.” She gloated, making the older woman crack up. For a split second, an expression of shock flashed on Kathryn’s face, before she began to grip the back of her chair with such fervent rage that her knuckles turned white. Her grin was gone now, replaced by an open scowl directed at the woman who was clearly mocking her.
“I don’t need your rookie blood on my knuckles. Get the fuck out of my face and shut up.” Kathryn’s eye twitched as her breath shuddered manically - she quickly rose from her chair, nearly bolting out of it, and shoved it to the side forcefully. As it skidded on the ground, coming dangerously close to toppling over, the upstart loomed over the still-seated veteran, their faces only a couple of inches apart now.
“You think you’re too good to have a go? Or too scared that a rookie will get the better of you?” At this point, Emer couldn’t just keep sitting back and watching this unfold. If she properly provoked the other woman into attacking her, there was basically no chance this wouldn’t end with the rookie having the shit beat out of her on the floor - this was not Emer’s first military brawl. She stood up and roughly placed her right hand on the rookie’s shoulder, pressing as much force into it as she reasonably could.
“Cut it out. We don’t need your military school bluster shit here.” Emer’s voice was cold and forceful as she gazed down at the recruit, face stern like stone. Kathryn whipped her head around and shot Emer a vicious glare, then swiftly grabbed her wrist. The cadet’s hand was perhaps a little too small to feel intimidating, and Emer could tell that she didn’t have the strength to actually pry her hand off her shoulder.
“Get your fucking hands off of me or you’ll be ne-” Kathryn didn’t have time to finish her statement. Her face recoiled back, her body popped out of Emer’s grip - in a meme moment, Emer’s fist had jabbed her square in the face. It had been a simple, clean, and direct use of force that had Kathryn drop to the floor, groaning and clutching her nose. Blood began to trickle down her hands and drip onto her skirt; in the aftermath of the point, missile-like jab, Kathryn’s nose had started bleeding profusely. There was a good chance her nose was outright broken. The veteran chuckled, flashing a thumbs up towards Emer, who simply nodded and returned to her seat. No need for further theatrics.
At that point, a woman with straight, raven black hair stepped into the room. She was dressed in an officer uniform, whose black and red military coat, with its sharp, imposing angles, was intimately familiar to Emer. What she wasn’t familiar with were the shiny black shoes that the officer wore, nor the sound that they made as they tapped against the linoleum floor. The veterans quickly sat themselves upright in their seats, part of a practiced and well-worn routine, and even some of the rookies - to Emer’s surprise - shuffled in place as they attempted to correct their postures in front of her. The woman looked down at Kathryn, who was still clutching her noise and, now, struggling to return the officer’s gaze; then the superior shifted her eyes towards Emer, and a small, subtle smile crept across her lips.
“I see we’re all getting along. Perfect. Back in your seat, soldier.” Her voice was cold, with only the faintest lilt to indicate how amusing she found the situation. Kathryn staggered back to her seat, cradling her still-bleeding nose as continued to stain her neatly ironed uniform. Emer wondered if the upstart had figured that it would be someone else’s blood that would sully her virgin uniform and not her own.
“Fuck, I think that bitch busted my nose, can I g-”
“No. Bear the consequences of your actions and do not interrupt me further.” Ice. Emer swore that she could feel the temperature in the room drop. Kathryn, feeling a ruthless chill run down her spine, promptly sat upright and nodded meekly, all of her rebellion and bravado drained in an instant. By now, it was already obvious to everyone now that she had crossed a line. Emer shuffled in her seat, looking up at the officer. If she felt any further need to regard the rookie as someone worth her attention, she didn’t show it.
“Hello. I know you are all wondering why exactly you are here. You have been inducted into the greatest military project in the Empire’s history. I have scoured for the most suitable candidates to fill roles I’m about to give you; from those currently in active duty, to graduates from the various military academies, and even to those who have retired from service. No matter who you were before you entered here, you are equals now. We stand before a new, alien frontier in military science.” Energy had quickly colored the officer’s voice. Energy and confidence, Emer noted. She was a good public speaker at least to her ear.
At this point, the wall behind the officer started to retract down into the floor with a harsh, loud rumble. Emer hadn’t recognized it as being a false wall when she had entered the room. Seeing what was on the other side, though - it caught her interest, and she found herself at the edge of her seat, leaning forward. Everyone did, including Kathryn, nose still slowly dripping blood onto the flooring at her feet. On the other side of the false wall, behind a thick pane of glass, was a hangar, a hangar that housed a number of massive mech suits, which - almost certainly - cost billions of Imperial denarii to construct. There were at least a dozen of them. Emer had never seen anything like them in her life. They were at least twice as large as her own pride and joy while in the service, the Curruid, and she didn’t recognize the metal alloy they used, looking at their frame. The alloy, along with their muted paint job, gave them a dark, matte look that made the mechs look sinister in the hangar’s dimmed light. The cockpits stylization - bringing to mind a hunting dog’s jowls - did not make their image any gentler. Emer shivered a bit in her seat, eyes glued to the mechs. If she’d had them during the fights in the Outer Riccian territories…
“Mechanical weapons platforms would be the sterile name for them. I, however, call them the Mobile Energized Railgun Combat Suits.” The smile on the officer’s face widened with glee - her arms were outstretched, her chest puffed out with pride. With the expression on her face and the mad glint in her eyes, it almost seemed like she was looking past them, to the sight of certain victory. It was a scene that Emer would never forget.
“MERCS, for short. The weapon of the future.”
---
Marié knocked on the door of the boarding house several times, hoping for any sort of answer. There was no response, though. She wasn’t sure if the boarding house had been abandoned or if the proprietor was simply not available. Truthfully, both options seemed equally likely. The building wasn’t exactly free from the grip of squalor. Stone crumbled away easily under her grasp, the outer layers having eroded from the violent thunderstorms that Eurydice was infamous for. Many of the metal parts on the exterior were rusting away too - support brackets and frames cracked, bent, fallen, broken. The parts of the building that weren’t metal or stone showed the telltale signs of extensive water damage.
She knocked again. She was willing to wait here for days if need be. This time, the door was wrenched open as an older woman, who, upon seeing her sheepish countenance, shot her a piercing glare. She couldn’t have been older than her fifties, Marié figured, but her hair had already greyed out and her face was marked by wrinkles. The passage of time, the grasp of stress and trauma - they had all made themselves well-known. The look of sheer annoyance on the woman’s face made Marié want to reflexively shrink and make herself smaller.
“What do you want? Make it quick, I’ve not even had my morning coffee.” Her barks, though curt and callous, felt tired, more than anything - both physically and emotionally. Marié gulped, nodded, then reached into her pocket with shaky hands and pulled the newspaper clipping again. Carefully, she flipped it over in order to read from the backside.
“I’m looking for Major Dunamis. I’m not sure she is here, but I figured it was a likely shot. Does that name ring any bells?” Marié did her best to hide her nervousness from the abrasive proprietress. It was a skill she had gotten quite a bit of practice with now. The older woman raised an eyebrow as the word ‘Major’ was spoken aloud, but shook her head.
“Sorry. Dunamis is a name I would have recognized.” The older woman began to head back inside, slinking away quietly, clearly not willing to entertain her anymore. Marié paused and took a deep breath; then leaning gently on the doorframe, continued inquiring.
“Maybe she’s going by something else. She'd be an older woman with black hair, and she would maybe have some other women with her, I think…” As her voice began to taper off, the older woman turned back to look at her. Marié did her best to look vulnerable, but not desperate - another skill she had gotten very good at. The proprietress sighed quietly, yet wearily. Slowly, as she came back to the doorway, the tension in her shoulders began to wane, and the harsh features on her face started to soften.
“You’re not looking for her, are you? She’s got someone you care about?” There was a tinge of concern in her voice now. Marié nodded meekly. The woman’s eyes became crestfallen as she moved out of the way, beckoning her guest inside.
“Get inside, out of the damp. It won’t do a girl like you any favors.” As Marié shuffled inside, the woman closed the door behind her. The front room had a faint, yet pervasive odor - damp and musty, of decay and degradation. The furniture was antiquated, it had gotten thoroughly soaked, and now on the warm, humid days when thunderstorms would roll in, you couldn’t help but smell how old and neglected everything was. The wallpaper was peeling in several places, and almost entirely yellowed from years of tobacco usage. If the outside had the signs of water damage, the inside was a diorama. There were several spots on the ceiling where leaks had sprouted in the ceiling, and it seemed like it was no longer the desire or purview of whatever maintenance staff they had to prevent any mold.
Marié sat down in a chair opposite of the older woman, the two separated by a small, wooden coffee table. She pulled out a carton of cigarettes along with a single match. In one switch movement, she ignited the match on her chair’s leg, lit her smoke of choice, then tossed the match away. Marié hated the smell of cigarette smoke, but there was no way she could ask her to put it out. She was pretty certain the other woman was the proprietress, and she was already being an imposition having to come in like this.
“Military wife? Looking for your beloved?” The question was so candid, so casual, Marié almost instinctively knew that this had been asked many times before. War brings no shortages of broken families and broken hearts, after all, and the run down places like this were some of the only places a displaced war veteran could go.
“Y-Yes. How did you know…?” Usually, Marie would have to bring up the fact that Emer was in the military later on into the conversation. The proprietor chuckled hoarsely, stifling a cough from her smoke as she took another puff of her cigarette.
“You gave me an officer’s name right off the bat. You couldn’t have been clearer from the get-go. So, you think she knows where your love is?” She stared at her reticent curiously, with only a modest amount of judgment in her gaze. Marié nodded, blushing a bit.
“I think she might be traveling with her. At least, I hope she is. I…can’t say I know for sure.” The hesitation in voice caused another of the owner’s eyebrows to raise. Marié didn’t like the feeling that she was being interrogated by this woman, and wondered when it would be best to leave. There were dangers to having a conversation partner who was too curious about things.
“How do you know she’s not dead? Lying in a ditch somewhere or floating through the vastness of space?” Marié winced - this question had hit her square in the chest. Usually this question was not said with quite as much candor as it was now. Taking a deep breath and a moment to ground her, she then continued:
“I never got any notice. No letter, no visit at the door, no coffin. I’m her only next of kin so I should have been notified if she died. So…I’m hoping she’s still alive.” The older woman nodded and took a drag of her cigarette. Then, she took a moment to stretch in her seat, popping her joints quite loudly. There was only a few feet of distance between the two women, mostly facilitated by the small table in between them.
“Definitely odd for the Alliance to not notify, but it’s possible some slipped through the cracks. Always do.” The old woman’s tone was sympathetic. As she was about to take another drag of her cigarette, she saw Marié shake her head - suddenly, she stopped. She took the cigarette from her mouth, perched it on the small ashtray in front of her, and looked around the room. There wasn’t anyone else in this front room, but the way in which the owner had flinched when Marié shook her head wasn’t a good omen. The woman took the cigarette back into her hand, a deep breath, and with it, another drag.
“Not Riccian. She was Imperial. You’re looking for an Imperial on a ruined Riccian colony?” She whispered, her voice low enough that it would be unlikely for anyone to hear it. Marié’s head dropped, hands beginning to shake. Of all the things she had considered when coming here, she hadn’t thought of having to explain that her girlfriend was a soldier lost on the side of the war these people fought against.
“I’m…very sorry. I know what I’m asking about isn’t easy but…” the words felt heavy enough to choke her. The older woman stood up, passed her cigarette over, then gently rubbed her shoulder.
“Don’t apologize. I board Imperials here. Too old to give a damn, as long as they pay, and those poor bastards can barely afford the pot they piss in. Just be careful from now on about that. Some people here will put a bullet in your brain for it.” Marié looked up and wiped the tears from her face, before nodding affirmatively. She tried her best to swallow her feelings before they spilled out again, pushing them down with tar and smoke. She promised herself she was going to quit by the time Emer got back, but right now, she needed it to calm down.
“I don’t think any of the people here will be of much help to you. They’re all rank and file soldiers in the war machine. No officers here. The fact that an officer would even end up in a boarding house in the first place seems preposterous to me. There are some others though. Let me write down their addresses for you.” The owner walks towards a shut door on the other side of the room. Her gait is slow and a little unsteady - the joints in her legs audibly crack as she slowly makes her way across the room. She disappears inside of it briefly, then comes out with a scrap of paper and a pen. She sits back down in the chair, hunching over to write the addresses of the other boarding houses in this part of the colony. Her handwriting is legible but shaky, and from the way that the woman grasps her fingers after finishing, Marié wonders if she has arthritis.
“That’s probably all I can help you with. Do you remember anything else? Maybe if I knew your beloved’s name I could see if that rings a bell?” Marié graciously takes the piece of paper from the older woman, before taking a deep breath. She could definitely explain a little more.
“Emer. Emer O’Kelly. She has this beautiful chestnut hair that she keeps pretty short. She had a lot of scarring too on her arms and hands. To me it makes her even more beautiful but she is pretty self-conscious about it.” Marié looked at the older woman to see if there was any spark of memory in her eyes, but she simply shook her head in denial. She could feel her heart sink a little bit into her stomach. Nothing.
“I’ve not seen anyone like that around here, and the name doesn’t ring a bell either. I’m sorry. I hope you find her. Would you like to have a room for the night? I do have one open and I would feel terrible if you didn’t have a place to stay.” Marié begrudgingly realized that she hadn’t planned out anything like that. Somewhere in her heart, she had naively expected that she would be able to find her beloved here without needing to spend that long. Maybe it hadn’t just been simple naivete. If she had planned to be here for a while, it was almost like admitting that she didn’t trust herself to find her.
“That would be lovely, thank you. But…hold on. I forgot about something else.” She turned over the clipping, holding it out for the older woman to take it. She takes it, reading it slowly, her ears darting back and forth between the lines of minuscule text. Then, her eyes widened. There’s a slight tremor in her arms before she gives the newspaper clipping back to Marié, pushing the clipping into her hand and forcing Marié to close her hand around it.
“Rivers. He’s one of my boarders. Doesn’t talk much anymore. He’s been here for a couple of years, after that battle. Spent the first couple of weeks completely shell shocked. He told me a couple of months later he had been a mech pilot in the war, and was assumed dead by the Alliance, and that it suited him well. If you..if you think your Emer was part of the squad that did this, he might know more about them. But be extremely careful with what you say.” Marié gulped, nodding slowly. She would have to think about what exactly her cover story would be when she confronted the man. She needed to know everything she could about what had happened.
---
“Thanks girl for you did back there. The military school kids are the fucking worst, I tell you.” The other woman was changing out of her uniform as she and Emer both stood opposite of each other in the room, right up against their respective beds. Emer was surprised that the accommodations had been as comfortable as they were. It was extremely rare to at least not even be forced into a barracks-type situation. A room with a door on it was wanton luxury, and for Emer and the other veteran to have beds of their own was completely unheard of. Out of curiosity, she sank her hand into the mattress when she had come in, and it actually seemed comfortable.
“I mostly just spared her the indignity of a real fight. I’ve seen too many rookies have the absolute shit beat out of them. She can manage with a swollen nose.” There was a boisterous laugh from the other side of the room. Emer slipped on a loose black T-shirt and sat down on the edge of her bed. Then, she glanced at the other woman, who had gotten into her night clothes and was laying in bed, staring at the ceiling. Her hair, Emer now took the time to notice, was shaved all over, although not quite as close to the head as a military haircut. Close enough though to be reminiscent, though.
“It might have done her some good. Running her mouth like that with a CO around would have gotten her far worse than bruises and broken ribs.” She chuckled dryly, stretching her arms. Emer nodded in grim approval.
“Don't I know it. I spent a couple of weeks in solitary over punching a CO for making a call that killed half my squad. Easily the worst shit I ever went through.” The veteran shot her a concerned glance, before sitting up on the bed and leaning forward, extending her hand. There was an unmistakable grin on the her face, one that Emer couldn’t help but reciprocate.
“Name is Morgan. Damn nice to see an actual fucking soldier here. Especially, at least in my personal opinion, one that won’t put up with bullshit.” Emer grasped her hand, and the two of them shook firmly in the name of a new friendship. It was probably a good thing she found Morgan to be so amicable.
“Emer. I don't know how I feel about the fanfare, but it is true I did serve and did punch a CO. What about you? You look like you’ve seen quite a few years on duty.” Morgan stretched her back, several joints popping, a friendly grin plastered on her face.
“Tail-end of the Gulass Campaign. Enlisted as soon as I hit 16. Expected the fame and the glory, came out with an ugly ass haircut and fucked-up leg.” She first pointed a finger up to her hair, before grabbing the bedframe and standing up. For a moment, it seemed like everything was normal, but then Emer noticed that her leg began to shake. At first, it was a slow wobble, but, as she continued struggling and grimacing, the shaking got more intense and erratic. She sat back down, the tremors in her leg quickly subsiding.
“Shit, that's bad. What the fuck do they have you out here for?” Emer had no idea how someone with an injury like that would be called back in for more service. It would be disqualifying in any branch if she tried to enlist. Morgan shrugged and let out a small, sardonic cackle.
“Beats me. I can't fucking imagine I'm of much use, but it beats being on my ass all day. How about you? Where are you broken?” Emer laughed at the remark, - a dry, mirthless laugh that made Morgan smile uncomfortably. She stood up from her bed and walked over to the door, before looking out of the small window, into the hallway outside. There was no one out there, but the feeling of her being back at a military base again stung.
“Believed I could have a normal life after things ended.” Morgan’s breath hissed as Emer turned around to face her, backed up against the door with her arms crossed. Then, suddenly, Morgan started to laugh. It was a laugh filled with a sort of twisted mirth, the kind that comes from gallows and shock humor.
“Fuck. Mental shit. That's the worst.” Emer chuckled as she shooed the comment away with her hand, peeling herself off from the door and sitting back on the bed. She still couldn’t get over how comfortable the bed felt as she sat on it. It wasn’t her soft, spacious bed at home, but it was miles better than the average bed a soldier got.
“No joke there. I was in the service for about ten years as a pilot, and then lost it a bit towards the end. Not that long past when I punched the CO. All that good service bought me my retirement again. Cupre, Lapis, Gulass, Outer Riccia. Went up in smoke.” Morgan gave a long whistle to that information, her expression changing from shocked to an impressed grin..
“Oh you were around for a while huh. Pilot? What bird did you fly?”
“Not a bird. Mech. Smaller than the ones in the hangar.” Emer looked up at the ceiling as her voice fell flat and monotone. Her hands were held together tightly between her legs, and a stressed breath was forced out of her mouth. Morgan’s face fell as she immediately picked up on the sudden awkwardness in the conversation, rubbing her neck a bit.
“That bad? I had wondered if the mech pilots got the short end of the stick or not.” Emer shook her head. Lowering it, she rubbed her face with her hands to try and ground herself again. Back out of those memories of the Curruid.
“It’s just not something I think about much anymore. There were always a lot of expectations placed on me. It made the victories pyrrhic and the defeats crushing, is all.” Morgan nodded, falling back into the bed as she rubbed her face too.
“Were you...an Ace? You know, those special pilots?” Emer looked at Morgan directly, trying to gauge her intent. She didn’t seem like a bad person, so she was likely just curious.
“You mean the pilots on the posters? Nah, couldn’t be me. I wasn’t that good.” Emer’s laugh was bone dry. Morgan chuckled along. Finally, Emer felt comfortable enough to also lay down on the bed. It would definitely be nice enough to sleep on.
“Figured. Broken retirees like us…we weren’t ever shining stars of the Empire, were we?” Emer rolled over on the bed, and decided not to answer. She didn’t want to answer a question like that. She knew that she was thrown away from the ranks when it became obvious she was no longer capable of holding it together on the battlefield. She didn’t get to participate in those final missions of the war as her superiors prevented her from getting to the Curruid.
“Guess the Empire will find a use for us eventually though.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” Emer could taste how bitter her comment was.