Wrought Harles lived the best life a rebel could live. He slept every night with his wife, Layris, by his side. Hell, he owned his own mech. Wrought wasn’t the best pilot by any means, but he could hold his own against at least a small Imperial fleet.

He rolled out of bed, grabbing his cybernetic eye on the bedside table. He popped it in, shaking his head out as he felt it connect to the synthetic nerves in the back of his socket. The eye was modified with enhanced thermal vision, although the added information made it difficult to sleep with the eye in.

Standing up on his legs, he felt a little disoriented. A few notifications popped up in his ocular HUD, some details about needing to be on standby today. He ignored it, assuming today would be another slow day.

It had been far too long since he’d been sent out on assignment. Imperial mech sightings had been far and few between ever since the assault where they lost Commander Callisto. Wrought had paid his respects at the funeral, but he never really knew her too well.

Layris, on the other hand, had been a close colleague of the late commander. Elara had been her maid of honor, and pushed Layris to finally propose to Wrought. She had been distraught upon learning of her death. Nobody on base expected her to fall in battle like that, although Wrought himself thought that going out on your own terms was the best death a rebel could hope for. It had been almost three months since her death, and Layris hadn’t gone a day without visiting the impromptu grave.

Wouldn’t help anybody to linger on the past, though. Wrought tidied himself up, throwing on whatever he grabbed first in his dresser. Layris wasn’t anywhere to be found in the room, and he assumed she had gone out for a jog, or went to grab a bite.

A new message popped up on his display, from Regent. Probably getting back to him about his last checkup. He pulled it up, skimming the message. His presence was required at the medical wing? Something important about Layris. Wrought bolted out the door in a matter of seconds, sprinting down the hall.

===

Layris sat in the exam room, a little flustered. Regent had just called for Wrought, with her permission. She hadn’t expected to have this conversation for a good while longer, especially not while everything on base was so hectic.

Wrought barreled in through the doors a moment later, a little shocked to see his wife sitting there so casually. He was out of breath, heaving as he tried speaking, unable to find the air to get out the words. Pausing a moment, he tried again.

“What’s the problem? Is everything okay with her?” He was looking over Layris, before turning to look at Doctor Regent. “What’s going on?”

Layris chuckled a little, standing and putting a hand on her husband’s shoulder. “Calm down, darling. Take a seat, it’s nothing bad.” She forgot how worried he could get sometimes.

He nodded, “Sorry, doc. I might have knocked over some stuff in the-”

Regent waved his hand, stopping the pilot. “Don’t worry about it. Take a seat, please. We’ve discovered something during Layris’ last checkup that she felt prudent to let you know. I’ll have a trainee handle the cleanup outside while you two chat.” He quickly left the room, giving a little bow as he closed the door behind him.

Wrought turned to look at a bright pink Layris, twiddling her fingers as she looked up at him. “What’s going on?” He tilted his head at her, confused.

“So um. You know how we were going to wait to talk about um. Starting a family? Wait until we retire from s-” She paused, noticing Wrought’s eyes widening. Layris gave a weak smile at him.

“You. You’re telling me that you’re.” His eyes darted between looking her in the eyes and her stomach. Wrought pointed towards her abdomen. “You.” He couldn’t seem to get a sentence out of his mouth, as he stammered at Layris.

Layris grabbed his wrist, planting a kiss on Wrought’s cheek. She thought this was going to be a lot more embarrassing for her, but he really did make this all too easy. “I’m pregnant, love. At least two weeks in, they said.” She caressed his hand a little, resting her head on his neck.

Wrought still couldn’t seem to find any words to respond, instead placing his free hand on her head. He was going to be a father.

Another alert popped up onto his HUD. Imperial scouts sighted near one of their outposts. All pilots on standby required to deploy.

Layris’ pager also beeped. Today was their day on duty.

“Imperial scouts sighted near outpost B2. I’ll tell Rhine we’re taking off duty to-” Wrought was stopped by Layris.

She squeezed his hand a little. “You go, darling. I still need to talk to the doctors a bit today. I know you’ve been aching to get back onto the field.”

“That doesn’t matter now, Ley. This is far more important than anything I could be doing out here.” Wrought didn’t leave her embrace.

Layris let out a sigh, smiling as she gave him a little peck on the neck. “Then go fight for me, you big lug. Make ‘em pay for what they did to Elara. I’ll be just fine here.” She pushed Wrought off of her, shooing him off. Layris knew how much Wrought yearned to be back out there, it wasn’t like she was worried about him handling some small-scale assault on an outpost.

He groaned a little, standing up to leave. “Fine, but I’m only going because you told me to, not because I want to.” He opened the door, turning around one last time.

“If I bite it out there I want it on the record that I don’t want that kid named after me. Maybe after some flower instead.” He joked.

Layris yelled after him, “If you bite it, I’m naming the kid after you out of spite!” She laughed a little, greeting Regent as he walked back in.

===

For being a walking furnace, the inside of the Anvil was rather cold. Wrought preferred the bite of frost in the cockpit, especially as his body warmed up from the heat of battle. He popped out his cybernetic eye, grabbing his mech’s attachment for his port. Tapping directly into the nerves in his eye socket gave him enhanced vision from his mech, not having to rely on the cockpit’s display.

Wrought had grabbed one of the new pilots in training to take Layris’ place for the deployment. The base had been scrounging for new blood ever since Commander Callisto’s death, and he couldn’t bother to remember all their names now. She seemed nice though, introducing herself to him as Citrus. She reminded him a bit of Elara before she had settled into her pilot role.

The last pilot on duty was another new face, Awre, he recalled. Any groups that went out these days usually consisted of two veteran pilots and a trainee, trying to pad out rebel numbers. Wrought had initially been hesitant to let a newbie onto their patrol, but Layris had convinced him. “Couldn’t hurt to train up the next generation of pilots early,” she said.

He was stuck on duty with two newbies then. Awre was at least piloting a real mech, Layris having given her the access codes since she would be out of action for a while. Citrus on the other hand was in a salvaged Imperial model 2-CB, the Counterbalance.

As the trio neared the rebel outpost, Wrought noticed something. Intel had said that a small group of scouts were around the area, but there was only one mech signature ahead.

Beep.

Commander Pyralis had notified the squadron after the last battle that their communications had been hijacked. The techs had put something together to recognize the jamming signal they had used. That warning had just gone off.

He heard General Frill over the comms. “Hammer, Anvil. Update on mission parameters. Take down your new primary target at all costs. Do not retreat.”

Wrought buzzed in, responding. “Today’s passcode, General?”

A pause.

“Purple. Red. Orange.”

Almost correct. The passcode system had been changed again since Doctor Preon’s notice to the base that Eradas Glaze had been discovered.

“Eat shit, Imperial scum.”

Wrought sent a message on short range communications to Awre and Citrus. Turn back, it’s a trap. He quickly turned the Anvil around, watching as the two followed behind him.

The blip on his radar began to move towards them. It moved at incredible speeds, gaining on the group quickly. He could feel a migraine incoming, his head overloaded by analysis of the surroundings. Wrought felt himself dissociating, feeling his mind leaving his body. Open field. Nowhere to run.

Finally, he saw what was chasing them. It couldn’t be.

The Moonrise was speeding towards them, marred by black paint and carrying a new cannon. This wasn’t possible. Everybody had seen the Sunset’s logs, seen it blown to smithereens. Not even the best rebel technicians could dream of putting that back together.

Yet, there it was. It raised its weapon, pointing it towards the three.

“Get behind me, Citrus. Awre, incoming behind us.” He could take on some second-rate Imperial pilot in that thing, but the thought that Elara could somehow be in there sent a chill up Wrought’s spine.

Awre quickly positioned the Hammer between the Moonrise and Anvil, raising its anti-targeting shields and ion turrets. The Moonrise would have to get closer before it could even consider firing at th-

The Hammer’s head blew off in front of his very eyes. This wasn’t possible. Awre never even had a chance. Whoever was in the Moonrise had to have fired that almost blind.

Citrus let out a scream at the sight, and Wrought steadied himself in his seat. Awre had to be dead. That could have been Layris.

One of them had to make it out of here. Wrought didn’t know if Citrus could hold off a mech on her own. Main base had to know about the Moonrise.

“Get a hold of yourself, Citrus. Run. Get backup. I’ll hold it off.” Wrought barked. He grabbed the corpse of the Hammer, raising up its chassis as a makeshift shield. The Anvil fired off a thermal blast in the direction of the Moonrise, who had paused after taking down Awre.

The Moonrise blocked with its shield. It was new, not the old scrapper that Elara used to run with. Wrought’s vision blurred around the bulwark, noting that it had added layers of protection, including the same anti-targeting tech that the Hammer had used. Citrus was running now, and he stood his ground.

I have to make it home.

He ran towards the Moonrise, blocking another shot from its railgun with the body of the Hammer.

Layris is waiting.

A wave of plasma bursts from the Moonrise rammed into the makeshift shield, tearing away metal as Wrought pushed forward. He grabbed the mallet attached to the Hammer’s back, tearing it off of the little mech that remained. The Gavel.

He blasted another thermal charge at the Moonrise, aiming at its legs. He remembered Elara had trouble piloting in the past without her lower thrusters. Here’s hoping that the new pilot would have the same issue.

The Moonrise’s legs melted out of shape as the charge detonated, throwing it off balance. A metal spike sailed past the Anvil’s head as the Moonrise fell back. Wrought slammed the Gavel into the outstretched railgun, impacting its reactor. The weapon blew to pieces, taking the head of his weapon along with it.

A cloud of smoke filled the battlefield, and Wrought felt his ears ringing from the force of the blast.

He fired blindly in the direction of the Moonrise, hearing its thrusters moving around in the fog. They had quickly recovered from his attack, it seemed. He swapped out his vision to thermals, seeing the Moonrise circling him.

The Anvil raised its fists, charging forward into the path of the Moonrise. Wrought struck metal as he swung, seeing as his arm was carved off by the Moonrise’s blade.

He slammed his other fist into the Moonrise, superheating it once he was sure it had made contact. His fist fused to the moonrise, detaching from the Anvil.

Boom.

The arm exploded, and Wrought could see as it was sent reeling. A good chunk was missing from its side, but it was still standing. He was out of options now, and it was quickly recovering.

Whoever was piloting that thing was experienced. They weren’t some random Imperial pilot. Again that thought of it being Elara. It was unthinkable. Why would she fight him?

If it was Elara, though. There was something he could try.

He broadcast on every channel he had access to. “I surrender. I’ll go peacefully.” Wrought backed up into the smoke as he spoke. “Callisto, if that is you, I won’t struggle. Come and get me.”

His thermals showed that the Moonrise had paused. It wasn’t moving anymore, but its head was still following him. Maybe that was Elara.

“Callisto, talk to me. We can get you home. I don’t know what they did to yo-”

A message popped up on his dashboard. Just two words.

Sorry, Harles.

The Moonrise’s blade slashed through the Anvil.