Cynthia ran to a fallen wall and jumped high into the air, the sun glinting off of the mech. She saw the other machine follow just as she launched. His mech twisted mid-air, exposing the cockpit. Honey reached forward with his weapon, ready for the final strike.
It worked.
Just as the sword reached the cockpit, she struck downwards, just barely nicking the head, instead landing a direct hit near the torso. Though it wasn’t the exact spot she wanted, it was too late to try a second time. Honey recovered, twisting his body as well. His next attempt was intended to sever her mech’s legs. The blow landed, but didn’t detach the legs. Instead it stuck in the left leg. As they both fell backwards, the swords were dislodged. Her left leg was useless after losing most of its vital connections
Cynthia gritted her teeth at the loss. At least there’s no pain sensors.
The leg detached from the main body, spurting blackened liquid across the ground. Her eyes widened at the sight.
It was useless now; the machine was finished.
She looked up at the sky and saw an object preparing to crush her. She rolled from her position as it landed, futilely slashing at the air. It turned and zeroed in on her cockpit. Crawling away wasn’t an option; he would catch up anyway.
Cynthia raised her sword, but was distracted by a nagging at the back of her mind. It was telling her something, but what?
In the blink of an eye, her sword was sliced completely through in a shower of sparks. He was over her now, his sword coming down for the last time. She was prepared for the loss. After all, it was just a simulation, but…
…the sword thrust downwards and…
…her irises flickered, their colors morphing from emerald-green to crimson.
Cynthia grabbed his sword, drawing its power into her own machine. She wasn’t done yet. Not yet. A backup generator started, and her power level rose.
Honey pushed the sword towards her cockpit, but she clung to it. Then she dropped it and lunged her broken weapon at his cockpit. As it reached the visor, Honey’s sword pierced hers, generating an explosion from the reactor inside in the process, killing her.
The simulation stopped.
Cynthia’s muscles tensed, and her head spun. The scenery morphed back. She began to breathe evenly again. Sweat dripped down her cheeks and onto the floor below her. Her grip on the controls loosened, and they released her hands. In that instant, the once-collected persona shattered. Her hands shook. Her eyes watered, their hue shifting from crimson to emerald. Tears fell down her cheeks, and she wiped them away.
Why was she crying? She couldn’t remember. Pilots weren’t supposed to cry, right?
Slowly, her hands stopped shaking, but her temperature rose sharply. Why was she getting sick? So many questions, not enough… time….
The cockpit door slid open; light poured in from outside. Cynthia was slumped forward in her seat, her eyes closed.
Maybe just a little rest….
“Hey.” An annoying voice.
“Hey!” it repeated.
Suddenly, she felt the frigid, cutting edge of water. Cynthia jolted, wincing in pain. Lights blazed down on her. Spots of black infiltrated her vision. She swiveled around to see Rayleigh, Honey, and the technicians leaning over her. She was taken aback; what was wrong now? They all had worried expressions on their faces. Her opponent looked fine; there was not a scratch on him. She hoped that her smile would comfort them.
“I’m fine!” Cynthia told him when she sat up. “Don’t worry. There’s absolutely nothing wrong with me! I’m fine!” she repeated.
They didn’t believe her in the slightest.
She shrugged off any help as she limped towards a chair. More than once her legs slipped out from under her, but she caught herself. Reaching the chair, Cynthia sat down gratefully. Both Honey and Rayleigh watched her intently.
She turned to them. “Didn’t you hear me?” she asked them.
“Sure we did,” Honey replied. “We just didn’t listen.”
“I agree with the winner here,” Rayleigh said.
“You guys….”
They grinned at her. She turned her gaze towards the cockpits. What had happened in there to make her sick? But then she relaxed, there was no use in worrying about it.
If only he could see me now….
“Well then, I’m forced to make an announcement to the two of you,” Rayleigh said sarcastically.
“Really?” Cynthia replied. “I never would have guessed.”
“Well, go on,” George waved him along.
“Starting today, you’re relieved from service.”
“What?” Simultaneous questions.
“As I just said—”
“Yeah, we got that,” Cynthia interrupted, “but what about the relieved bit. Didn’t we pass?”
“On the contrary, you didn’t pass, Ms. Wood. Mr. Hughes did.”
“Then why are we both relieved?” George questioned.
“Indeed, that’s the million-dollar question.”
Cynthia stood. “Oh, I get it. You’re moving us, then?”
“Oh,” George said.
“Yes!” Rayleigh agreed.
“What about Maria, then?”
“Oh, she’ll be tested against Mr. Hughes as well before I decide who’ll go where.”
“But earlier, you said—”
“Shhh.” He held his finger to his lips.
Cynthia walked alongside them as they passed through the entrance. A blast of cool air met the trio when they arrived outside.
“Well, I’ll be seeing you later, then,” George told Cynthia and Rayleigh when he headed off towards the car.
“Yeah, see ya.” Cynthia waved to him.
She stood there, and finally turned to Rayleigh.
“So, did you have anything to say?”
“What do you mean, Ms. Wood?”
“About Chione.”
“Ah, yes.” He pulled an envelope from his pocket and handed to her. “Your next assignment.” He started to walk away, but he turned back, saying, “I watched your battle. It was quite spectacular, if I might say so. Great fighting technique. Though you forgot to put the camera in. A pity. I would have liked to see your piloting.”
“I know.”
She watched him walk away, gust whipping up debris around her. Through the noise, she thought he said something.
“Farewell.”
“Yeah,” she murmured. “You too.”
Cynthia took a hesitant step forward, and then another, and another. In a few steps, she was jogging next to him. The dome was fading away now, lost in the darkness.
When they reached his vehicle, Cynthia lowered her window and stretched her hand out towards the falling snowflakes. Her breath frosted in the air.
Chione. Yet another new destination. Another mystery.
Hopefully, she would come to call it home as well.
But that wasn’t really her home, was it?
Chapter XII
Death
“Hurry,” Simon yelled, “we don’t have much time!” He snatched a cable, hastily tying it to a stake hammered into the ground. Reports of a storm had gone around town. These storms brought drenching rain, floods, and deep misfortune to this planet. He could already see the steely clouds approaching.
They had to secure Genesis.
“Catch!” a voice called over the increasing din. Simon finished tying the support cable and caught the hammer. Just one more cable, and the machine would be secured.
As Amelia came around the corner, a loud clap of thunder shook the yard. She tripped and fell. She jumped from the ground and ran over to the last hook.
“Here.” She handed him another clip.
“Thanks,” he said, clamping it and fastening it to the knot. When anchored, the stakes, combined with the cables, would hopefully keep it stable. It all depended on how strong the winds were.
A bolt of lightning split the sky overhead.
Simon looked up at Amelia, and he rose from his s
quatting position. “Come on,” he told her, beginning to walk to the door. Amelia ran alongside, and when they reached the door, passed Simon without a second thought, slamming the door against the storm, leaving him stranded outside.
“Um, Amelia?” He knocked on the door repeatedly. “Care to let me in?” Simon thought he heard another lightning strike. The gales picked up, and the robot swayed with them. The door opened and he stumbled inside.
“Sure, I’ll let you in,” Amelia muttered to herself. “Sure I will.” She searched the counter for an ever-elusive cup. “Care for a drink?” She turned to him, a cup filled with some homemade concoction in hand.
“No, thank you.” Simon waved the proposition away.
“All right, then,” Amelia said, sitting down at the table. Simon watched the rain drip down the windowpanes. In time, the rain would be pounding the shingles, a river would run down the roof, potentially damaging the precious comfort of the shop.
Simon sat down across from her and started humming.
“So,” Amelia began, “how’s your machine?”
“Our machine,” Simon corrected her. “And it’s coming along well. I just need to—”
“Make some modifications?” she interrupted. “You’ve been saying that for over a week! When can I pilot?”
Simon looked shocked at this; it hadn’t been that long, had it?
He laughed. “Have patience, my pupil!”
“I’m not your student!” Amelia stated, angrily slamming her drink down onto the table, sloshing the liquid inside.
Simon looked grim for a moment, and then pointed at her. “Correction: you’re my pilot. And did I ask for an obnoxious one? No!” He leaned back in his chair, looking directly into her eyes. “Amelia, hear me out. Even though you’re not the best pilot I could ask for, you’re what I got. So, that’s all we have. A wannabe engineer and an underage pilot.”
She looked at him, and chuckled. “You miss something there?”
Simon sat back down in his seat. “Like what?”
“You’ve also got quite the handicap.” Amelia pointed towards his eyes.
“Well, that’s just another one of my qualities.”
Amelia grinned.
The rain pounded the shop. Even after all these years, the forecasted weather was still never quite right. There he was, listening to the rain while lying on his bunk, but it didn’t lull him to sleep like it usually did so well. He rolled off of the bed and silently inched his way to the living room that doubled as the shop’s lounge. To his surprise, he found a bundle sleeping on the couch, curled up in a worn blanket.
He didn’t disturb her. The rain battered the windows and dribbled down the panes, but, the wind had died down substantially.
Simon sat near the edge of the couch, mindful not to accidently hit Amelia’s feet. Even the slightest touch could wake her, as he learned their first night as bunkmates.
Plink, plink, plink.
Had he heard this rhythm before? The sound of rain. When a storm hits, it rushes over the land, eroding the ground down to nothing. Would there be mudslide? Or a flood?
The rain continued to fall and his eyes began to close.
Stark brightness startled him awake. Dawn had broken, which could only mean one thing: the storm was over.
He sprinted outside, tripping over Amelia on his way out. She stirred. He didn’t care in the slightest. As he arrived in the muddy yard, his face lit up.
Genesis was intact.
But the cables had loosened in the night, and the machine was teetering, close to tipping over. Simon hurried to the mech and hastily tightened the cables. During the anxiety, he hadn’t noticed a certain pair of eyes watching him.
“What’s with the ruckus?”
Simon turned toward her. “Retightening cables is all!” he called back. He heard her mumble a series of insults at him. He stopped his work and looked up.
A violet sky. A collage of colors made the morning sky a masterpiece. Sunlight pierced through the clouds, masking their true hue. He was amazed by it.
He was brought back down when a shrill alarm rang in his pocket. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a buzzer. A translucent screen popped up, announcing several events planned for the day. He sighed. Couldn’t it wait? He touched the check mark in the bottom right-hand corner, and the shrieking stopped.
“Sorry about…” Simon looked up and no one was there. “That….” He scanned the enclosure, finding Amelia sitting on Genesis’ right foot. She seemed exhausted, nodding her head and leaning forward.
He yelled, “Boo!”
Amelia jumped. She looked around and settled on Simon, saying groggily, “I swear, you’ll be the death of me.”
“I know, I know,” Simon replied, helping her up.
A thought hit him. Why not show her now?
“Wait here,” he said, running back inside.
He sifted through the drawers in a frenzy. It had to be here somewhere… Ah!
Simon pulled the lightweight fabric from one of the lower drawers, cradling it before hurrying outside once again.
“Here you go!” he said, handing the garment to her. He watched as she examined it, scrutinizing it.
“What’s this?” she asked.
“Your piloting suit, of course!” Simon replied.
“It’s… all brown.…” She glanced at him warily.
“W-well, that’s all I had,” he stammered, walking towards Genesis. “You’ll be piloting soon, so….”
“Fine, I’ll wear this… suit.…”
He turned to her, smiling. “Great! We’ll start then.”
“Start?”
The pop of the cockpit sliding open. The crackling of static. Even though she had decided to test her skills, what would come of it?
Simon looked at the screen below him. Vitals stable, check. Connection stable, check. Ranger’s stats nominal, check.
Another crackle of static and the visor lit up like a firework. He saw her heartbeat rise, but that was most likely because of the sensors. She would be fine.
Static: clear.
“Amelia, can you hear me?” Simon spoke into the built-in microphone in the board.
“Yes, I can.” Her voice sounded hollow, devoid of emotion. Was this an unforeseen side effect? And then, “How are you?” A simple question.
“I’m fine,” he replied. “Just focus on moving for now.” He flicked a switch, and the restraints released with a hiss.
Genesis moved. So far, so good.
“It’s cold,” Amelia called through the microphone. “So… cold….”
Cold? He checked the temperature. It was within normal parameters. What was wrong? He flicked through the numerous open screens and found the live video of the interior. He pressed it, and it started scrolling.
She looked like a corpse. Frail body, pale complexion. Chills ran down his spine at the image. Simon checked her vitals once again, but found no abnormalities.
What was happening?
After reviewing the video feed for some time, Simon came to a conclusion: Genesis was rejecting her.
But, one might ask, why would a machine reject a person? The answer was simple. Since the First Generations needed to have synergy with their pilots, why not give them an advanced, sentient AI to compensate for the overflow of data? Decades ago, the idea of using an AI was scrapped, instead leaving the pilot in absolute control of the mech, which decreased the percentage of survival rates among the trial members. The idea wasn’t that far-fetched, considering the rate technology had progressed. But the second, more plausible plan was much simpler.
All she had to do was get out of there.
“Amelia!” Simon yelled. “Can you eject?” Thankfully, he’d installed a bailout this time. “Amelia!”
No response.
“Amelia!” He tried for a third time. Nothing. He watched the mech in vain. Why couldn’t he see anything? The screens had blacked out just a few minutes ago, but still…
Would
it happen again?
He shut down the board and ran to the base of the machine. He scaled the frame and reached the head. He pried open a control panel just under the visor, jammed a key into a hole, and turned it to the right. The cockpit eased open, revealing an unconscious Amelia.
Simon lowered himself into the cockpit, gingerly slinging her over his shoulder, then clambered down the side. Once on the ground, he carried her into the shop, laying her down on the couch. What else could he do? He was at a loss.
Think…think! He prodded his brain for information, and he scrambled to grab the emergency medical kit from the top of the refrigerator. Typically, they didn’t need it, but now….
“Come on,” he mumbled, “open.” He rattled the container, and its contents spilled out onto the floor. Not the best way, but it worked. Simon glanced over at Amelia, who was completely still.
What to do… what to do…. He picked up several vials and a pair of defibrillators, which he figured he had no use for. Another paper fell from the overturned box, and he grabbed it.
A manual. Maybe that would provide some assistance.
It was nearly midday when he sat down in the chair next to her. The manual had worked, showing him the correct way to care for her. Amelia’s face regained its composure and showed improvement. He was glad that she was still alive.
The chair was comfortable; in fact, he was nodding off. Amelia was safe. He leaned back, exhaustion prevailing. Just a small nap, and…
A grasp of his hand. A squeeze.
“Hello.” Barely a whisper.
Simon was instantly alert. “Welcome back.” Tears welled up in his eyes. He wiped them away with a smile.
“What happened?” Amelia asked.
He was prepared for this.
“You… passed out from stress, that’s all. Nothing to worry about.” Simon waved the problem away. No need to frighten her.
“Oh.” Amelia put a hand on her forehead. “I thought it was from a fever. But I’m better now.” She tried to sit up, but nothing happened.
“All right,” Simon said, pulling her into a sitting position. “You’re… fine now.” He reassured himself. You’re fine now… just fine.
“Why are you crying?”
He looked up. Hot tears dripped down his cheeks. He furiously wiped at them, the rim of his eyes reddened.
Hope in Paradise Page 10
