Chapter Text
“Calling Level Two.”
“Level Two, calling.”
A surge of heat crawled up her back and over her head. Warning tones blared in her ear as her heart rate doubled, blood pressure spiking and narrowing her vision until all she could see was the holographic display in front of her. And then, as if flipping a switch, she was back. She panted heavily, sweat beading on her brow.
“Level Two clear,” Regulus, commander of 013th Mobile Suit Recon, said approvingly in her ear. “Ensign Morn?”
“Ready for Level Three, sir,” Ensign Talitha Morn replied, bracing herself.
“Very good. Calling Level Three.”
The display in her mobile suit flashed, and she took a deep breath. “Level Three, calling.”
It was all she could do not to scream as a geyser of magma exploded up her spine, setting her skin aflame. Constellations danced at the corners of Talitha’s vision as sparks of glowing Permet bridged the divide between her and her suit. She could really feel it now, and the sensation of those familiar, metal limbs soothed her soul, even as her breath came in sharp gasps.
“Level Three clear,” Regulus said, and Talitha was given a slight reprieve as the Permet Score dropped. There was a loud double-thud as the transfer gantry grasped her sarcophagus and began moving it to the catapault. “Remember ensign, this is a test flight. Don’t push beyond Score Three. Sensors show no activity in this sector, but we still don’t want a Permet flare drawing Assembly Group eyes.”
“Yes sir.” The reminder helped center her. Yes, a test flight…
Never mind that Talitha had barely exited L2’s pilot academy six months ago. Never mind that she had only sat in the cockpit of a Gundam for the first time yesterday. The Second Front Forces wanted to test their fancy, new mobile suit, and Talitha just happened to have a Permet score twice that of the next most qualified pilot.
Lucky her.
“Ensign?”
“Sorry, commander.” Talitha shook her head and stared at the projected screen in front of her. Thousands of stars glittered in the black void, a view only slightly spoiled by the blocky prow of her ship, the Orison. Her heart thrummed in time with the Gundam’s reactor, and she licked her lips with a dry tongue. “RP0143, Ensign Talitha Morn, Procyon, ready for launch.”
“Clear for launch, Procyon,” Regulus said.
Her heart leapt into her throat as the launch rails threw her free of the Orison fast enough to turn her vision grey. Once clear, she opened the throttle and rocketed away from the ship, heading for her destination in a distant cluster of asteroids.
It was a simple flight. Race out to the asteroids as fast as possible, shut down and drop off the Orison’s sensors, then creep as close as she could without being seen. The idea of any kind of mobile suit, let alone a Gundam, being stealthy was laughable; but with Procyon, Talitha almost believed it.
Two-thirds the size of a typical mobile suit, with sharply angled plating the colour of interstellar space. Light practically slid off its hull, and even its thruster plume had somehow been muted by the engineers at the Second Front. Talitha had seen Gundams before, demonstrated by GUND-ARM at the academy, but nothing quite like Procyon.
So when a scintillating, silver beam pierced the sky in front of her cockpit, Talitha was shocked to see something just like it.
“Morn to Orison, ambush!” Talitha shouted into her microphone, yanking hard on the control sticks and sending Procyon into an evasive tumble, still heading towards the asteroids. It was a test flight, they hadn’t armed her weapons! “There’s another mobile suit out here!”
“Morn, s— a—n?” Regulus’ voice crackled, dissolving into static. Jammed.
Shit.
Talitha pushed her Gundam to Level Three, body burning as if she was in the plume of her flaring thrusters, hyperventilating to supply her brain with enough oxygen to process the input from two bodies. If she could get to the asteroids, she could find a place to hide, wait for reinforcements from the Orison, pray that Procyon’s stealth was good enough to keep her alive. Just had to make it to the asteroids…
But she wouldn’t at this rate. The silvery beams were closing, and Procyon wasn’t armoured to take anything like that. Every evasive she tried was quickly followed, and slowly the space surrounding her began growing more and more crowded with particle beams. Looks aside, that thing was way more heavily armed than her Gundam, while she had nothing.
So Talitha broke the rules.
“Level Four, calling!” she shouted, triggering the increase in Permet, this time not able to suppress a scream as fire washed through her veins.
There were many good reasons to use a normal suit inside a Gundam. Ejecting into a hard vacuum without one was inadvisable, and in the unlikely event the hull was breached, the pilot’s brain wouldn’t be sucked out of their ear from the pressure differential. More important for witches like Talitha was the pure oxygen feed, supplying her Permet-saturated brain with the vast quantities it needed.
This was the highest Talitha had ever called, but that was back at the academy, with medics ready if the data storm began tearing through her body. Out here, it was just her and Procyon, and if the data storm proved too much she’d die; just as sure as she would die if she didn’t push the Gundam as far a she could.
163BPM, her heart monitor said. Blood pressure dangerously high. With a few blinks, Talitha dismissed the biometrics. She could feel it. The data storm was burning through her like the enemy’s particle beams would.
And Talitha had never felt better.
She plunged into the asteroid cluster, teeth clacking together as she threw Procyon sideways. A beam passed through the space she’d just occupied, and the enemy mobile suit followed. So close. It had to be a Gundam, had to be burning through its pilot just as Procyon was burning through Talitha.
She might win a war of attrition, outlasting the other pilot through the data storm, but she was more likely to be cut in two by a beam before that happened. Talitha rounded an asteroid, hugging the cratered surface, scrolling through her limited options.
Procyon’s weapons hadn’t been armed, but all mobile suits had fallback options for close combat; a beam lance was as much a utility as a weapon, and Procyon’s was working. Not that the other pilot would let her get close enough to use it. But maybe…
“Level Five, calling!”
It was a foolish move, and Talitha regretted it the moment her nervous system became an inferno. The interior of her visor reflected a smouldering, orange glow as Permet suffused her. She flew on instinct more than visuals, her vision sparkling with constellations, narrowed to the barest tunnel. Procyon’s sensors became her eyes, its hull her flesh, the beam lance a vicious claw.
Lights on the asteroid’s surface flashed, and a pair of particle beams burned through the void beside its head. It twisted and plunged towards the source, dodging one more blast before landing feet first atop a turret concealed in a crater.
The crunch of metal-on-metal made its steel skin vibrate. Debris and dust rocketed up in the microgravity, hopefully shrouding Procyon from sensor-sight. The surface of the asteroid was still vibrating, as though ringing with the force of its impact. Suspicious, it knelt and pressed its palm down firmly, digging it into the dusty surface.
Human speech and footsteps, its sensors recognized the cadence. This wasn’t just an asteroid, it was some kind of base. But whose? The fleet’s databanks suggested this was nothing more than a mining operation, abandoned thirty years ago when everything valuable had been extracted.
Procyon could find out, certainly. Its beam lance could easily pierce whatever hull was beneath the surface, tear into it and open it to space. But that would accomplish little, and certainly wasn’t its mission. No, right now dealing with the enemy Gundam was the key issue. Everything else would wait until it managed to survive this fight.
It rocketed out of the cloud, running parallel to the surface, back to the asteroid. The void above seemed empty of mobile suits, but this one was just like Procyon. Its sensor-sight hadn’t caught it before, and wasn’t likely to this time. But the same ought to be true for the enemy.
Except it wasn’t. A silver beam tore through Procyon’s left forearm, severing it cleanly and sending a surge of feedback through its systems. It screamed, nearly blacking out from the extended waste of oxygen. But it shut down the systems in the extremity, reducing the pain to manageable levels.
No time to consider it. Another scream, and Procyon felt its reactor flare as its Permet Score jumped again. There, a glint as the enemy fired another particle beam. Procyon rocketed towards it, thrusters glowing as it boosted the power far beyond any “safe” limit. A slight twist saw a beam glance off its shoulder, rather than pierce its cockpit, and the enemy suddenly loomed ahead.
It wasn’t quite the same as Procyon. Where Procyon was all sharp angles and saw-toothed edges, the enemy Gundam was made of smooth, contiguous curves; only broken up by a pair of barrels protruding from each arm. A single sensor-eye brightened as its thrusters flared as the enemy pilot rapidly increased their Permet Score to match—
Too late.
Inertia was on Procyon’s side, and it slashed out with its beam lance, spiralling and cutting through three limbs; and a good portion of the head for good measure. The enemy Gundam’s back thrusters sputtered twice, then went dark. Dead.
It paused, reactor thrumming. Then, Talitha was back in herself as the Permet Score dropped to something resembling sanity; for witches like her, anyway. Her lungs and throat were raw, and each rapid breath felt like she was taking in glass. Muscles cramped and screamed in protest of their abuse at the hands of the twisting centrifugal forces of her mad flight.
Talitha manipulated her controls, twisting Procyon back towards the asteroid base. There were still enemies out there, still a mystery to—
The asteroid came apart in a tremendous, violent explosion. Talitha raised her Gundam’s remaining arm to shield the cockpit as fragments pelted the hull, rattling her teeth. When she lowered it to look, there was nothing left but boulders barely the size of Procyon, from an asteroid nearly a kilometer across.
“Ensign Morn, do you read?” a frantic voice came over her radio. “Morn, answer damn you!”
“I’m here,” Talitha croaked. “I’m—”
It was just too much. Talitha had never touched Score Six, let alone seen combat. Her vision faded, and before consciousness slipped away, she briefly wondered if Commander Regulus would be mad about the arm.
“That may have been the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen a pilot do.”
“Yes sir.”
“You could have been killed, you understand?”
“Yes sir.”
“What’s more, you could have gotten your fellow pilots killed! Do you understand that?”
“Yes sir.”
“Are you certain, ensign?” Regulus glowered down at her from the gantry. “Are you absolutely certain you understand what was at stake?”
Talitha bit the inside of her cheek, tapping where Permet scars still glowed. “Completely.”
His gaze softened and he extended an arm. “Then welcome back aboard, witch. Let’s take a look at what you caught.”
“Sir?”
“We salvaged the enemy Gundam,” Regulus explained as he helped Talitha from her cockpit, supporting her when she nearly fell over. “It’s two berths down, come on.”
She couldn’t exactly go elsewhere, not without someone to lean on, so Talitha dutifully limped along beside her commander. A cluster of engineers and techs marked where the Gundam was berthed, not terribly far, but in her state it felt like a kilometer.
“Commander.” A tech with bright red epaulettes saluted. “We were just about to crack her open, sir.”
“Carry on, chief,” Regulus said with a nod. The man returned the nod, gave Talitha a brief look, then returned to his work.
“Who else is making stealth suits?” Talitha asked under her breath.
“Good question,” he muttered. “GUND-ARM doesn’t exactly have the market cornered anymore, but only Peil and Grassley are remotely close to their developments.”
“What about Shin Sei?”
“What about them?” Regulus scoffed. “They haven’t been a major player for years.”
“Procyon was theirs, though.”
“No.” He shook his head. “The development team was originally theirs, but they were bought out years ago. Now all Shin Sei does is mining.”
“I see.” She frowned. “I seem to recall that’s what the Benerit Group thought as a whole, thirty years ago.”
“Times have—”
“Sir!” the chief tech shouted from beside the cockpit. “We have vital signs!”
In an instant, half a dozen weapons had been drawn, aimed at the enemy Gundam. Talitha’s heart leapt into her throat. The enemy pilot survived? Sure, she hadn’t cut into the cockpit, but she was certain enough vital systems had been struck to cripple its life support. And yet…
With a whistling hiss, the seal released. A series of plates slowly slid aside, retracting into the hull and revealing a dark, cramped cockpit. The pilot inside was slumped forward, a tangle of curly, black hair shielding their face. Three techs stepped forward, two with guns aimed, the third reaching out hesitantly and unbuckling the pilot’s restraints. They took them out and laid them, laid her, on the gantry.
It was a punch in the gut. The girl couldn’t have been older than Talitha, she might have even been a couple years younger. Pale skin glowed faintly with Permet scars, mirroring those on Talitha’s own cheeks. A wide mouth with thin, cracked lips lolled open; the faintest sound of wheezing breath moving in and out of her lungs.
And then there were the scars.
Two of them, and though she was certain they couldn’t be, Talitha thought they looked a lot like bullet holes. Right in the middle of the girl’s forehead too, puckered and red as though they’d barely healed when she was thrown into the cockpit. Her eyelids fluttered, and Talitha saw a pair of cloudy, brown irises before Regulus barked an order and had her dragged away to the infirmary.
“Let’s get you to the infirmary, ensign,” Regulus said after the enemy pilot was gone. “I want to make sure you didn’t push yourself too hard.”
Talitha winced. “Yes sir.”
“I did say to limit yourself to Score Three, didn’t I?”
“Yes sir, but—”
“But, there were extenuating circumstances.” His eyes glittered as he stared down at her. “And you, ensign, are going to tell me all about them.”
Talitha suppressed a sigh. This debrief was not going to go well.
In its dreams, Procyon fought viciously against Anubis, its beam lance clashing with the other’s sickle. It rarely won, and often found itself torn to screaming pieces, before it fought again, and again, and again.
Sometimes Talitha was there, shivering in the cockpit as Permet turned her body into a torch. Usually she wasn’t, and there was only the Gundam, only Procyon and its cousin, tearing each other apart in the void of space.
Sometimes the other witch was there too, sometimes it was her and Talitha fighting, tumbling through the void in normal suits, knives flashing. Sometimes the enemy’s cold, thin fingers wrapped around her throat, and sometimes Talitha broke them, and broke the enemy.
Sometimes, they just held each other as they tumbled through space, because no one else understood.
Anubis.
“What was that, ensign?” Tech First-class Roan asked.
“Hm? Nothing.”
“Yes ma’am.” The tech went back to tapping away at his tablet, and Talitha continued staring at the wreck she’d made of the enemy Gundam.
Where did that name come from? It was stuck in her head, rising every time she thought of the enemy Gundam. Had some tiny sensor detail leaked through during the battle? A Permet ID that Procyon only recognized once it had access to the Second Front’s databanks again? Maybe, but then, why didn’t anyone else seem to recognize it yet?
And that pilot… Talitha had put in a request to see her. She wasn’t totally certain why, she just felt like it would answer something, fill in the missing puzzle piece and complete the picture. She scratched idly at the still-burning scars on her cheek. No answer on it yet. Hopefully Regulus would see reason though. After all, who was better at talking to a witch, than a witch?
“Bingo,” Tech Roan exclaimed, glancing back at Talitha with a look of embarrassment. “Sorry ensign, I just cracked the ID.”
“Oh?” Talitha perked up. “What did you find?”
“Well, there's no corporate registration, no pilot ID, practically nothing useful,” he said, frowning. “And its Permet readout has a different encryption. I’ll have to look at that later, but I have a callsign.” The tech pursed his lips, and Talitha held her breath. “It’s the An-yoo-bis.”
“Anubis.”
Roan blinked. “What?”
“It’s Anubis.”
“An-ooo-bis,” he sounded it out, extending the second syllable. “Sure, whatever. How’d you know?”
“Pilot’s intuition,” Talitha said flatly, a shiver running up her back. “Keep at it, and would you keep me in the loop?”
“Yes...ensign?” Roan gave her an odd look.
“I know, I’m a junior officer, just…” She stared up at Anubis’ half-melted head. “I’m curious.”
“You know what they say about that and cats.”
“Fortunately, I’m not a cat.”
“Yes ensign.” His throat bobbed and he nodded. “They probably won't mind me sharing. You’re cleared on the only other stealth suit in the system.”
Hopefully, the only other stealth suit…
“Are you sure about this, ensign?” Regulus asked.
“Yes sir,” Talitha replied, hands clasped behind her back, standing outside the infirmary.
“It’s not exactly regulation,” he said, for the third time since answering her request. “By all rights, she should be isolated until we get back to L2.”
“I know, I just—” She gnawed her lower lip. “It’s strange sir, isn’t it? We come out here for a test flight of the only stealth mobile suit in development—”
“That we were aware of,” he interjected.
“—and just so happen to encounter the only other stealth suit we’re aware of.” She gave him a severe look. “A Gundam, like Procyon.”
“I’m not sure its use of the GUND Format is important, ensign.”
“I think it is, sir. I think it’s key.”
“You’re a pilot, not an intel spook.” Regulus looked sour.
“Yes sir, but I’m a witch.”
He pursed his lips, considering. “You think she’s more likely to talk to you?”
“If she doesn’t, she’s not going anywhere.” Talitha scratched at a warm scar on her neck. “And if she does, maybe we solve part of the mystery before we get home.”
“Fine, it’s worth a shot at least." Regulus scratched his chin. She’s conscious, but hasn’t said a word, beyond asking where she was. No DNA in the banks, no retinal images, not even a fingerprint.” He gave her a severe look. “I don’t like ghosts, ensign, and I don’t like this. Tell me whatever you find.”
“I will sir,” Talitha said.
“Then go ahead.” He gestured to the door.
Taking a deep breath, she keyed the controls and stepped inside. The Orison’s infirmary was a single, small room practically filled with medical equipment. Cots were squeezed in what little space there was, though only one was occupied.
The enemy witch stared at her, expression studiously neutral. Her wrists were shackled either side of the cot, but she didn’t seem bothered by her bindings. She cocked her head slightly, and a few longer strands of her hair fell in front of her eyes.
Now that Talitha could see her outside the bulky pilot suit, she was far thinner than was healthy, but tall. Even sat on the cot, she came up to Talitha’s chest. And those scars, impossible to miss. Not the Permet scars, those barely registered anymore. No, it was the twin marks on her forehead that looked suspiciously like bullet wounds.
“Hi there,” Talitha said. The girl didn’t say anything, so she continued. “You’re the Anubis’ pilot, right? I was in the other one, the—”
“Procyon,” she said, narrowing her eyes. “You’re Talitha Morn.”
It was all Talitha could do to not shiver. “Pretty well informed, for a prisoner.”
“I don’t—” The girl stopped, eyes flicking around. Then she leaned forward, lowering her voice. “I don’t know how I knew, I just...know.” Cold, thin fingers wrapped around her throat.
“Well you have me at a disadvantage,” Talitha said. “I only know your mobile suit’s name, not yours.”
“Really?” She frowned, as if she’d expected it. “I don’t know why I— No, it doesn’t matter. You tell me where I am, and I’ll give you my name. Deal?”
Talitha considered it. She wasn’t a real officer yet, and certainly didn’t have the kind of power to go making deals with prisoners of war. Just the same, what could it hurt? The girl was shackled down and probably still afflicted with the same Permet burn Talitha was. She wouldn’t cause any trouble.
Probably.
“Alright,” Talitha said, lowering her own voice. “You’re aboard the corvette Orison, Second Front Forces.” The girl gave her a blank look. “And your name?”
“That doesn’t mean anything to me.”
“It’s still where you are. Name?”
For a moment, Talitha thought the girl was going to attack. It wasn’t clear how she’d go about that, chained as she was, but the feeling set Talitha’s nerves on edge. It would almost be better if Regulus had handled this. Almost. Finally, the girl sighed, shoulders slumping in defeat.
“It’s Taylor,” she said, voice scratchy. “Taylor Hebert.”