Mcmolly

Amygdala Circuit

“I can confirm that, after the first singularity opened, there was an uncharacteristically brief warning before the subsequent ones opened. We conferred with monitors from both Eusero and Casoban, who observed similar, sudden spikes in activity. While we work on a more comprehensive analysis, I can at least tell you that, as of now, there is no discernable pattern, or rising trend in the rapidity of singularity formations. All data indicates that these incidents are anomalous, and while the RISC will certainly be taking measures to account for them, we do not expect our day-to-day operations, as they relate to the public, to change.

“As for the incident itself, I’ve been informed that pilots Dahlia St. Senn and Quinnlash Loughvein have returned alive and well. Dragon sustained moderate damage, but will be operational in a matter of hours. Ablaze, to my knowledge, is still ready for emergency deployment. Drone footage near Gontiard went dark for approximately seven minutes when the second singularity opened, however satellite recordings confirm that CSC unit Chateau was indeed destroyed in the attack. Damage reports for Saviors in the ESC are at the time unavailable, but all units reportedly returned to their station shortly after the last singularity closed.

“Despite the sudden and dire nature of this attack, I am overjoyed to announce that there were no casualties reported among civilians. No Modir breached the lines of defense, even in the singularities closest to high-population zones. Environmental damages, however, are considerable, and as per the Illun Accords, Runa will be assisting in recovery as Casoban has done for us in the past.

“Today, more than almost any time in history, we proved why these corps are important. Three nations came together to defend humanity from an ancient, existential threat. For a while this afternoon, we were not Runa, or Casoban, or Eusero. We were Illun.

“In a few hours, members of our analytics team will be planet-side to expand on some of the details I—”

The door to the bridge opened, and Besca managed to cut the video feed before she gasped. Quinn and Dahlia walked into the room, which was empty save for herself, and the instant the door shut behind them, she sprinted. An arm went around each of them and pulled them in tight.

“Oh god, oh my god,” she murmured. “You’re both okay.”

Dahlia winced, and Besca recoiled immediately. “Shoot, hun, I’m so sorry. We lost visual on you for a bit when Chateau went down. How bad is it?”

“Not bad. Follen fixed me up.”

She tried not to let that visibly upset her. Instead she kissed Dahlia on the head, then turned to Quinn. She cupped the girl’s face in her hands, looking her over, pleased to see that she was not somehow walking while dead. It struck her that she didn’t really know what to say. That she was afraid? That was likely obvious. Relieved? Probably even more so. Quinn had come back. She’d faced down horrible, unbelievable odds and come back. Again.

“I…” she muttered, sighing as a smile spread over her face. “I am so proud of you, hun.”

Amygdala Circuit

“Alright, now, open. Don’t blink.”

Follen leaned in close and shined a light in Quinn’s eye. He had her look up, down, side to side, tugged down on her cheek to look beneath the lids. When that was done, he gently shifted her eyepatch away.

“You might hear some noise in your head for a moment.”

With a surgeon’s grace, he brought a thin, metal prodder up and probed into the empty socket. His unoccupied hand held onto hers; she would know that if she felt scared, all she had to do was squeeze his hand and they would take a moment. But he moved fast today, perhaps it was the adrenaline. Sure enough there was a thin, scraping sound that radiated into her ears from behind, uncomfortable but not painful, followed by the tapping of metal upon metal.

“There we go,” he said, and sat upright before moving the patch back over her eye. He smiled reassuringly. “No signs of growth, not in your eye, not anywhere. You, Ms. Loughvein, are quite resilient.”

Follen got up from his stool and went to the little desk that all of the ward rooms had. He’d taken the opportunity to sneak them into medical through the pilot’s elevator—though it had taken some patience and one or two distractions in the commons. Funnily enough, this was the same room Roaki had been settled in.

While he scribbled notes onto a chart, Dahlia swooped back to Quinn’s side. She’d calmed down considerably, and that frantic fear of loss had eased back into her more general closeness. She smiled, rolled her shoulder with a playful wince.

“Lucky you, huh?”

“Still, best to take it easy for a couple days anyway. Give Ablaze a wide berth until it’s all healed up and the modium is cleaned. No marathon sim sessions, either—though I’m told that goes more for you, Ms. Senn. Otherwise, you two are perfectly healthy.” He flipped the chart closed, but didn’t move for the door just yet. “Now, I don’t know what the schedule is going to be. I assume at some point today you’ll be expected to go make a statement, shake some hands, etcetera. I’d imagine that’s where Besca’s being dragged to right now. Whether you’d like to go get that out of the way, or get yourselves a little rest first, is up to you.”

Amygdala Circuit

Dahlia cursed the fact that she didn’t really have two arms to work with just then, but she wasn’t about to let a little pain stop her from holding Quinn as close as was physically possible. Her good arm wrapped around her pulled her in so tight she felt the pad on her back straining, and her undershirt grew wet on the shoulder. She didn’t care.

“I couldn’t—they wouldn’t—all they told me was you were still fighting! Then I saw it on the TV, there were so many! I’m sorry I’m so sorry, we had another one open near us, I couldn’t get up here in time to help.” She pulled back, hand clasped on Quinn’s cheek. Her eyes flashed, scanned her over for wounds, anything bleeding, anything serious. “God I thought you were gonna die. They said six came out I thought…I thought Eain might…”

She still saw that Modir in her dreams. Saw it stalking towards Quinn, and all she could do was lie there helpless and broken. She’d tried so hard, put in so much time since then, and it hadn’t mattered at all. Quinn had been alone, and vulnerable, and…

And she’d lived anyway.

Dahlia looked at her again, really looked at her. Tear-streaked, dirty, exhausted, and yes, beaten hard by the enemy but undeniably alive. Victorious. Her sister had stood against deathly odds most pilots would never have walked away from. It struck her with sudden, incredible shame that she might have, in some way, been thinking of her as weak.

Who could have been more wrong?

Dahlia pulled her in again, breathing her lungs empty. “Love you so much,” she wheezed. “You were always coming back. Always.”

Amygdala Circuit

Dahlia vomited, again. The first time had been from the nausea, typical following protracted bouts in the cockpit. This time it was the pain, while Follen sat behind her with a beam-scalpel, excising a brand-new growth in her shoulder.

“Steady, Deelie. Almost done.”

He’d said that three minutes ago, but somehow she still believed him. He had that way about him. At least no one could see her like this—sat on the floor over a steel pan, shirt hiked over her shoulders, filthy with her own blood, sweat and sick. Or rather, at least no one unwelcome. They sat behind the massive cubby of Dragon’s holding, and the hangar crew always did a good job of keeping the looky-loos and the amateur videographers out.

A hollow clinking as a chunk of black metal fell into the pan. “There we go,” he said soothingly, though the pain didn’t stop. “That’s the most of it out, just cleaning up the edges, then we’ll get you sealed.”

“Where…” she gagged, swallowed down hot bile.”Where’s Quinn?”

“Exactly where she was five minutes ago. And the five before that.”

“There could be more…”

“There’s no more. And if there are, I’m told the Euseran Savior is waiting for her to leave first.”

He’d meant it as reassurance, but it didn’t make her feel any better. Altruism from a Euseran pilot? They’d already proven otherwise just today, when the ESC didn’t move an inch to help until RISC did. Even then, they only showed up to the singularities that seemed at the time to be the least problematic, save for whatever had happened at Quinn’s.

Now her sister was alone down there with one of them. It was almost enough to make her puke. Again. God, at the very least she wouldn’t have to see her like this.

Follen set his scalpel aside, and someone came round to carry off the pan and the modium chunk. She felt the needle prick of another numbing shot, hardly a register after being carved like a turkey. A cold, thick fluid filled the cavity in her shoulder, and it sent a shiver all the way down to her bones. Then an adhesive pad was laid over the wound, a long-term stopper to give the concoction time to rebuild the flesh and muscle.

“There, all ready for the cameras,” Follen said, standing up behind her and peeling the gloves off his hands. Her blood was all over his shirt, his pants, his arms, but he didn’t seem the least bit bothered. Fallout of being a surgeon, she supposed—it wasn’t like he hadn’t seen worse, often. “You know the drill. Few days’ rest, then minimal motion for a week until the scar fades.”

She wiped her lips, spit stomach acid into the pan and nodded. “Thanks.”

He bowed his head, then left her there. No one else came by; they knew by now to give her space. There’d be time enough for congratulations and interviews later, when she wasn’t in burning pain. When her sister was home.

---

Once again, Quinn was not alone in the dark. The cold and pulsing walls of the cockpit shifted around her as the lift brought Ablaze up through the atmosphere, and molded into the shadows was the shape of herself.

She smiled. That sense of elation, that overwhelming pride. How much was alien, and how much was simply her own, bolstered. “So perfect,” her words blurred into the air, into her ears. “We did it. They come to take and we take from them. They think we’re weak. But we’re not. We’re real! We’re real, and no one can say we’re not.

“We’re monsters’ monsters.”

Childish giggling filled the cramped space, lingering even after she retreated into Quinn’s mind. Eventually the lift stopped, followed by the familiar, muted sound of the Aerie’s seal shutting.

Light rushed her as she pushed the hatch open. Light, and the absolute thunder of cheering. The crew were scattered all around the hangar, clapping, hollering, trying to glimpse her as the scaffold platforms pushed up against Ablaze’s form.

Modious blood seeped from its wounds, flooding into the multiple drains at its feet. On the platform, a dozen or so people waited, all wearing the same orange hazard suits she’d seen before. One of them waved both her arms in uncontrollable glee, and through the tinted faceguard Quinn would still be able to tell it was Tillie.

As she stepped onto solid ground once again, another voice pierced the applause.

“Quinn!”

Down below, standing at the center of the hangar was Dahlia. She looked…rough. Smeared with blood and grim, arm in a sling, hair a mess, but the way she smiled it might as well have been the happiest day of her life. She waved with her good arm, screaming again.

“Quinn!”

Amygdala Circuit

FOUR! came the echo.

And then after it, silence. Another heart beat in tandem with Quinn’s, another set of muscles not her own suddenly relaxed. She could feel someone draped over her like a blanket, exhausted, but as euphorically pleased as she was with what they had done. Together.

“God—” Besca’s voice choked over the comms. “I’m…yeah you are, hun. You are. Just—”

A triumphant holler from Firebrand interrupted her, and even that was drowned out by the bestial howl the Savior unleased with her. A brief jolt of fight or flight struck Quinn from within, and then the cockpit lurched, suddenly and with enough force to knock her onto the ground. Laying there, she could feel Ablaze being raised off its feet, into the air, and hear something squeezing it.

“Atta girl!” the woman cheered in her ear. “Bring her in!”

Was…

Was Firebrand hugging her?

Moments later the cockpit jostled again as, presumably, she was set back down. There was an awkward silence, before the woman piped up again.

“Oh, shit—did you disconnect already? Hey, my bad, you alright in there? Sorry, I get a little excited sometimes, head gets away from me. You totally killed it out there though—not that I’m surprised! You’re Quinnlash, right? Quinnlash Loughvein? I’m a big fan of the way you blow shit up and don’t murder people.”

More rustling, and even without being able to see, Quinn could likely tell what was going on—Firebrand was shaking Ablaze’s hand.

“It's an absolute pleasure to meet you. I'm Axan Dane.”

Amygdala Circuit

THREE! A scream in chorus with her own, furious, agonized and ecstatic.

Firebrand swerved, blazing sword cleaving through the axe-wielder’s torso, and then spearing through its head when it fell in pieces to the ground. “Nice shot! Let's go, that's what I like to see!” she roared over the comms—so loud, so energetic, like this wasn’t a fight for their lives.

The singularity weakened rapidly, collapsing on itself as Firebrand spun and sprinted back towards Ablaze. The spearman broke off, charging to meet her, and the woman’s laughter rang in Quinn’s ears. Their clash was brief. Firebrand twirled her blade, batting the spear aside and, raising her weapon high above her head, slammed it down and cleaved the monster in two.

The bladed Modir, however, kept its focus entirely on Quinn, claws outstretched, undeterred by her unbound power. It snarled, leaping at her with claws soaked in both of their blood, and dug them into her sides. But this was not the burly opponent from before, and though there was sharp and certain pain shocking through her, it would be nowhere near enough to topple Ablaze now.

Amygdala Circuit

The submerged anger grew fiercer, but Quinn could feel it tugging on the strings of her own panic as well. They were on the backfoot, disarmed and outnumbered, and every second that passed saw their body whittled down more and more. Her sides flamed, her ankles were cut up and her balance suffered. Blood dripped down over her eyes, stung, messed with her vision.

Surely the phase was close; the static was louder, sure, but the truth was that time protracted in such close quarters. She still needed a minute, maybe more. Too long.

The bladed Modir kept on her, swiping and slicing, and whenever it missed, or Quinn managed to deflect its attacks, the spearman slunk in and jabbed to cover it. Its point caught her twice, thrice in the gut and chest, piercing organs that only people like Tillie really understood, but linked up with Ablaze Quinn could feel they were vital in some fashion. Modium poured from her, dousing the fire and salting the earth with poison where it landed.

We don’t die! came the indignant roar from within. We don’t give!

If she could only summon her cannon.

“Quinn! Two more!”

Two more.

They emerged, one bolting forth with an axe taller than it was raised above its head. The second took a knee far back, and though Quinn might have been preoccupied, she flared with urgency.

Quinn—!

But she was too late this time. A beam of energy, fired from a rifle of some kind, blasted through the gut of the bladed Modir, who staggered but did not die, and impacted Ablaze’s hand, shearing three of her fingers clean off. Quinnlash couldn’t catch it all, and pain, true pain, shot all the way up her shoulder and into her heart.

The rifleman stayed put, perhaps lining up another shot, but the spearman obfuscated her. The bladed Modir got back to its feet with an angry growl, gaping hole in its stomach.

Thirty seconds was an optimistic count.

“Quinn get up!” Besca shouted over the comms, desperate. “Get up, hun, just run! Just buy time, you gotta—”

The comms stuttered, and then there was the ping of someone joining their channel. Was it Deelie? No, a mental glance registered the newcomer as…

“ESC? Who is this?”

And, in a voice utterly wrecked by static and volume peaking, Besca got her answer.

“WOO—o…OOO—oOOO—H…oO—HOOOOOOO!

Sort of.

The quartet of Modir all stopped, their eyes turned skyward. A meteor plummeted to the earth, consumed by fire, and impacted the field between Quinn and the two newcoming Modir. The ground erupted in a geyser of dirt and fire, and as the smoke cleared, a lone figure rose within the crater.

It was a Savior, not quite as lean as Ablaze, but sleek and powerful. Its plating was red as fire, accented ivory over the modium-black flesh. A pair of horns, not too dissimilar to those on Dragon’s head struck out from its skull, and though all Modir wore a flayed rictus, this one truly seemed to grin as though exhilarated by every breath.

It reached an arm up, and yanked down a greatsword to rival itself in height. Yet, with the grace and ease with which one might wield a baton, it twirled the thing up and let it come to rest across its shoulders. Lazily, it glanced back to Quinn. If it weren’t for the fact that Saviors didn’t have eyelids, she might have been able to swear it winked at her.

“ESC Firebrand, reporting for duty.” A woman’s voice, though there was the pep and excitement of someone Quinn’s age in it. “Hope you don’t mind sharing some of the glory with me, Sparky.”

Firebrand shrugged the sword down like she was striking a match, and, appropriately, white fire burst to life and consumed the blade almost entirely. Ducking low, she dashed towards the axe-wielder and the rifleman. The latter wasted no time, taking aim and firing a round directly for her head. But she was low then, and quick as a wick, she rose up and leapt, torquing herself around into an aerial as the bullet sailed beneath her and into the ground. Landing with all the deftness of a dancer, she spun, brought her sword around with both hands and met the other Modir’s axe with a powerful swing, cleaving straight through its haft and turning it to ash just as they’d done to Quinn’s cannon.

Speaking of.

The tether reformed as the numbing wall around Quinn shrank considerably, but she would know instantly why. All of her effort went straight to the static that had grown deafening in the meanwhile, and while Quinn felt power both familiar and unimaginable flood through her, she was also granted the precious clarity to focus it.

Quinnlash phased.

Amygdala Circuit

The Modir let off one more salvo, but Quinn’s shot was dead-on, striking the missiles as they clustered and blowing the monster’s chest apart, only for it to be utterly mulched in the explosion of its own artillery.

Two... came a gutteral anger so visceral Quinn could hear clear as day.

Not so clear was her view of the two newcomers. The second Modir’s demise had left a sizeable cloud of smoke and ash in its wake. Fire was beginning to spread through the fields, catching red once it touched the wheat and turning the ground into a carpet of flame.

Aside from the thundering footsteps growing ever closer, and the encroaching static of something beyond, these moments were nearly peaceful. Nearly.

Quinn!

An alien reflex wrestled with her, and managed just enough control to lurch her sidelong as a modium spear pierced the smoke like a bolt of lightning. It had been aimed for her head, but blessedly it missed; instead, it struck her cannon, right through the barrel. There was a low whine almost like that of a living thing, and then Quinn’s weapon burst into flames and crumbled into ash in her hands.

Inside her it was like a tether had snapped, but she knew it wasn’t permanent. Already it was reforming, strand by strand, but it would be some time before she could wrench her cannon back from the void—if she was lucky, it would be as she phased.

But as the agony of combat was keen to keep reminding her, minutes did always feel so long.

The two Modir cleared the smoke and charged her. The one who’d thrown the spear manifested it once again in its hands, and lunged to stab at her. The other, whose weapons appeared to be a pair of long blades extending backwards down its forearms, skirted around to flank her before dashing in as well.

Amygdala Circuit

As the smoldering remains of the first Modir crumpled to the fields, the second took aim again. This time the salvo was much closer and angled much lower—so low in fact, that the first round of it impacted the brief stretch of dirt between them instantly in a bright, furious explosion that engulfed the monster entirely. The next volley came barreling at her through the heat and smoke, much too quickly for another interception, but also with less care given to aim. Many of the rounds flew past her, blasting her back with earth from behind but doing little else. Some, however, did hit their mark.

The briefest shock of pain exploded from her leg as a missile landed home at her thigh, before that hissing guard took hold and numbed it to an uncomfortable heat. Another hit her in the shoulder, tearing off a chunk of bicep, and another still burst beside her, scorching her ribs.

Quinnlash’s influence strained, the venom of agony seeped through, but only just.

Suddenly the Modir came charging through the smoke, colliding head-on with Ablaze and, being much heavier, tackled her easily to the ground. It did not, however, have the mind to pin her, or get her into a hold of any sort. It simply threw itself on top of her and began to wail on her with its claws, snarling and growling like a rapid animal.

“We’ve got more Modir coming!”

Through the numbing field, Quinn could feel her fury boiling. Of course there’s more.

And sure enough, two more Modir came rushing out of the singularity, full-tilt and bloodthirsty.

Amygdala Circuit

Born ready.

“You’re free-range, Ablaze.”

The Modir closed in, the distance much shorter than she might have anticipated. She could see them clearly, both them were already armed. The closer of the two was sleek, built for speed and agility. Its clawed feet tore into the earth and propelled it with the gait of a career sprinter. Wrapped around its forearm was a chain, leading to an orb clutched in one hand.

The second was more heavily armored, but by no means slow, and would reach them within moments of the first. Its maw was uneven, its lower jaw jutted and more plentifully-teethed. It held nothing in its massive hands, but fixed to either shoulder were a pair of modium-marbled cannons, not quite to the size of Quinn’s, but still large and already filled with white fire. Still a ways back, it loosed a barrage of missles, each trailed by comets of ivory light. A few landed early, exploding like grenades into the fields, showering Ablaze with wheat and molten dirt, but the lion’s share of them stayed true to course.

The first Modir, now closing in, poised to collide with her immediately after the salvo would hit, released the ball from its grasp. White light flared from dozens of holes bored into its surface, creating spikes of energy like the head of a mace. It whipped its arm back, and with a vicious flick, sent the ball hurtling towards her.

An anticipatory hiss ghosted Quinn’s ears, and she felt a sort of shelling around her consciousness, not unlike at the duel. A barrier ready to catch as much pain for her as it could.

Make them pay.