“Command! Command please come in!” Citrus continued scrambling away in the Counterbalance.

She scanned the mech’s cameras for what could be blocking her comms.

Short-range communications with the Anvil had cut off shortly after it had gone out of her view, but her communications were jammed.

Radar showed that a large machine was inbound. Too big, too fast to be the Anvil. Wrought was down.

There wasn’t time to mourn his loss, he had fought to give her a chance. She needed to get a message back to base, a signal, anything.

Moonrise. Risen from the dead. She did her best to recall her studies of the machine, her tutelage under Elara had afforded her in-depth access to its logs.

Citrus did her best to avoid thinking too hard about the late Commander these days. The thought of her brought Citrus to the verge of tears.

Despite her best efforts, it was difficult to avoid the memory. Especially when faced with the phantom of her mentor’s mech.

The Counterbalance wasn’t a fast machine, and Citrus had barely any experience with it. She’d be outpaced in minutes.

Communications, then. Still blocked, despite the distance she’d put between herself and Moonrise.

Whatever was blocking her comms had to be nearby. It was likely the same thing that had been used to override Elara’s communications array before her fall. Range was said to be roughly two miles.

A short range jammer. Following her.

Citrus couldn’t see anything around her. She ran another quick scan over the Counterbalance. Nothing attached.

She activated a short range scan. Nothing. Whatever was tailing her was either cloaked, or too small for her to pick up.

The Moonrise grew ever closer, and she continued running in the direction of the main base. If anything, they might pick her up on their patrol sweeps.

Still too risky. Citrus couldn’t waste the chance afforded her by Awre and Wrought.

Counterbalance was made to disorient enemies. Integrated aural weapons, made to throw off pilots and send shockwaves hard enough to knock the finely tuned systems of machines off kilter. Any hope of putting up a fight against the Moonrise was hopeless in a mech made to support real fighters.

She could feel adrenaline slipping into her blood, as her heart pumped out of her chest. Citrus continued pushing the Counterbalance forward, away from the pursuing Moonrise. She could see it peek into her rear camera.

The hydraulics of the salvaged machine weren’t made to handle this high a load for this long, and Citrus watched the systems blare heat warnings. It wouldn’t be able to keep up much longer.

Disorient. Whatever was following her was too fast to be on the ground, unless it was anywhere near her side. Even the best cloaking couldn’t hide something of that size from short-range scans.

Whatever was blocking her signal was close, flying, and small. A drone.

A deep rumble emanated from the Counterbalance as she activated its disruptors. She needed to knock it out of the air.

Citrus watched as almost a dozen Imperial drones crashed out of the sky around her, a little surprised by the sheer number of them. They crashed against the rocky terrain below her.

Her communications fizzled to life, and she could hear Mission Manager Rhine’s voice.

“Hell- kzzt -ease respond. I repeat, Anvil, res-” The quality was poor, likely from any remaining drones. Citrus blasted another wave out, watching more Imperial machines break into pieces against the ground.

She noted that the Moonrise had stopped its chase. It knew that she had broken through the communications jammer. Any doubt that it was under Imperial control quickly faded from her mind.

Citrus responded, “Anvil is down, this is Citrus. Passcode: yellow orange purple. We found Moonrise. No Imperial mechs at the outpost, just a rebuilt Moonrise. Unknown pilot. Awre is dead, and Wrought’s status is unknown. I am making my way back to base now.” She didn’t stop for the Moonrise, as she continued pushing back towards base.

The Moonrise didn’t move after her, standing dead still as Citrus ran home.

===

Click.

The door to Pyralis’ room slid open, as Rhine opened it. Pyr quickly got up off the bed as light shone through the open door.

“What’s wrong? You look like you just got out of a transport crash,” Pyralis queried. She quickly threw off the covers, getting up to help the distraught Mission Manager.

Rhine couldn’t get the taste of bile out of her mouth, as she held up a hand to stop Pyr. “I’m fine. You might want to sit back down.”

She stepped into the room, taking a seat at what used to be Elara’s desk. Pyralis hadn’t moved anything on it in the almost three months since her passing.

Pyralis sat back down on her bed, looking quizzically at Rhine. “Is everybody alright? What happened?” She quickly thought about who was on duty today.

“No. Wrought is dead. Awre too. That isn’t what I came here to tell you,” Rhine responded.

Rhine took a deep breath before continuing, shuddering a little. “It’s what killed them. Moonrise.” The name tore its way out of her mouth, as Pyralis went silent.

“Citrus made it out alive. We didn’t believe her. Her mech’s recording backed up her story, though,”

Rhine pressed on. “The Moonrise, rebuilt. Imperial black painted over half its frame. We don’t know anybody alive who could have pieced that thing together besides you or Krill.” She clenched her fist.

Pyralis stood, her eyes locked onto Rhine. “Don’t you dare say that you think I betrayed us. Betrayed her.” She flexed her arms, holding back from throwing a punch.

Rhine quickly shook her head, “No, that’s- we went over all of your devices remotely. Nothing. Ran a full sweep over the base for anything that could possibly be sending information to the Imperials. Nothing.” She paused, looking up at the furious pilot.

“How.” Pyralis spat through gritted teeth.

“During our sweep, we found one system on base that had signals being received from known Imperial networks. It belonged to Doctor Preon.” Rhine watched as Pyr’s eyes went wide.

She continued her report, “We spoke to her. She explained the signal to us, Pyralis.” Rhine’s voice was shaking now, as she began to tear up. She looked Pyralis in the eyes, who was now trembling.

“Elara’s arms,” she choked out. “She sent my sister to investigate.” Rhine was outright sobbing now, as she almost jumped out of her chair at Pyr.

Pyralis was tense, falling back as Rhine was bawling into her chest. Tears began to leak from her eyes as well, as she froze up in Rhine’s grasp.

Elara’s alive.

Preon knew.

===

Pyralis pushed the door to Preon’s office open, not bothering to knock. She stared daggers at Doctor Preon, who was sitting at her desk.

Preon turned to face her, closing her eyes as she hung her head. “Hello, Pyr.”

“You knew.” Pyr lunged forward, grabbing Preon by the neck. She lifted the doctor off the ground, pushing her against the wall.

Preon didn’t resist, dangling in Pyralis’ grasp as she opened her eyes. She nodded. “I did.”

“You didn’t think to tell me? You acted like she was dead and comforted me while you knew she was alive?” Pyralis pressed her hand deeper into Preon’s neck, the skin folding in as she almost choked the doctor.

“Of course I thought to tell you. I thought it would be better if y-”

Pyralis buried her fist into Preon’s gut, eliciting a gasp from the dangling doctor. She didn’t let go, staring Preon in the eyes as she hissed. “If I didn’t know? That wasn’t your choice to make.”

“I’m sorry, pup.” Preon quickly regained her composure after the strike from Pyralis.

Pyr squeezed her hand, pressing her nails into Preon’s neck. She growled at the name, pressing herself close to Preon as she spoke. “Don’t fucking call me that.”

Bright blue fluid was now flowing down from Preon’s neck, as Pyralis dropped her. “Maybe the Imperials are right. Maybe you aren’t human.”

Preon collapsed to the floor, continuing to avoid looking at Pyralis. “I’m sorry. You have every right to be mad.”

She considered if Pyralis was right. Maybe she wasn’t human anymore. What human would take such pleasure in the flesh? Show such curiosity? A sick one, if any.

“How long? How long did you know? You were there at her funeral. Did you know then?” Pyralis was pacing around the room now.

“Almost a month now. They came online, and I had Eradas look into it,” Preon softly replied. The words were barely audible.

The holes in Preon’s neck were now closing, her skin sealing itself as she rubbed the wound. She pushed herself up. “I thought you would do something stupid if you knew.”

Pyr stopped her pacing to shoot a stare at Preon. “Something stupid. Like what? Get angry? Want to save her? Something stupid.” She reared back, swinging her prosthetic fist into Preon’s face.

Preon’s neck bent out of shape as she fell back. She swiftly cracked her head back in place, looking up at the fuming Pyr from the ground. “I thought you’d throw your life away.”

“Do you know how many times I wanted to ‘throw my life away’ because I thought she was gone? How many times that I held one of her old service pistols up to my chin and wanted to join her?”

Pyralis was hyperventilating now, a pain ringing through her chest. “You knew how close I was. Told me to hang on for her. Two months of that and you still didn’t tell me.” She fell to her knees.

Preon got to her feet, rushing to her side. “Pyr, you need to calm down.”

Pyralis swatted her away, clutching her chest. “Don’t tell me to-” she gasped for air. “Calm down. Get away from me!” She coughed, pushing herself up.

The doctor backed away, finally meeting Pyr’s gaze. Pure hatred flowed through her little pupils. Preon relented. “I thought you would end up like me.”

Pyr used her legs to kick herself back over to a wall, leaning on it as she continued to beam her rage at Preon. “Like you. Inhuman. The doctor who takes so much pleasure ripping through her patients. Ripping away their flesh, and apparently their hope.”

Preon went silent at the accusation, and Pyralis’ words finally seemed to strike home as she responded with a little nod. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m so far gone that I can’t even tell anymore. I just- do you know why there’s so little left of me?”

“You mean your soul? I assume you cut out the flesh to match,” Pyralis spat. She let out another growl at the doctor, who stood still across the room.

Shaking her head, Preon continued. “I- I wasn’t the one who cut it away. Regent did, almost eight years ago now. It was medically necessary.”

Pyralis didn’t respond, continuing to stare at Preon. The doctor moved to a drawer, one Pyralis remembered that she kept locked. Pyr had questioned her on it months ago now, Preon having dodged the topic.

Preon took out a thin plastic binder, delicately picking it up. She slid it open, reading it slowly. “I had my memories of the incident erased,” she explained out loud.

“Preon. That was the name of my mech. Old scrapper, made to do on-field mech repairs. My name was Synapse. Synapse Reiner.” The name sounded foreign now, so far removed from the doctor.

Pyr’s expression had softened, a touch of confusion now mixed into her slurry of emotion. “Synapse Reiner. She was a pilot. Part of the last generation.”

“Imperial defector.” Preon flipped to the next page. “I lost someone. That much I still remember. I told myself not to get close to anybody. You were so much like her.” The doctor was still deep in focus, barely paying attention to Pyralis.

“Her. You mean the person you lost?” Pyralis slid her back against the wall, taking a few careful steps forward. She wanted to knock Preon out of it, yell at her, but the person standing in front of her didn’t feel like Preon anymore.

Preon leafed through more of the packet, continuing to leak her thoughts out. “No, not her. Synapse. You reminded me of her. She was angry. She lost everything to the Imperium. She wanted to rip it away.”

Pyralis felt a twinge of guilt, quickly replaced with her lingering anger. “So you knew how it felt. You knew how desperately I wanted her back. How much I would have given to trade places with her.”

“Yes.” Preon continued reading through the pages, her eyes moving along faster as she reached the end of the packet.

“I knew. I know. I tried.” She gently closed the folder before turning to Pyr. “I’m sorry.”

Pyr felt herself tense up again, seeing the sorry state of the doctor in front of her. “You- what? That’s still it? You read your little history and still all you can say is sorry.” She almost tackled her on the spot. Pyralis wanted to rip her mechanical head off.

“Synapse tried. She wanted to take so much from the Imperials, and threw herself into the fight. Fought to her last breath. Did something stupid at the end.” Preon was still spaced out, her eyes glazed over and beginning to slur her words.

Pyralis slapped her. “Snap the hell out of it! You said you didn’t want me to end up like you. So explain.”

Preon slid the binder across the table towards Pyralis.

Pyralis looked up from the pages, closing the folder without reading any further. “She was dead. We’re nothing alike.”

“You didn’t read my testimony,” Preon responded. She sighed, taking a seat on the floor. “Wrought heard wrong. He was a good pilot, a poor listener. They said her soul was dead. Broken.” Preon’s voice crackled with static, a crude mimicry of a raspy throat.

Pyr looked at Preon with another twinge of pity, sliding the binder back over and turning to leave. “Would you do it again, given the chance?”

Synapse responded. “If I knew I could save her, yes.”

“Then you’re going to help me.”