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[wolven91]

Introducing; The Hyenids

Warren rubbed at his wrists.

Despite being out of the cuffs for over an hour now, he could still feel them compressing his wrists until the bones grinded against one another. When the draconian merchant, or rather kidnapper and slaver, had turned on the bright lights and blinded him, he’d expected his torture to continue.

The young man still remembered the words that made his blood run cold.

“We’ll take ‘im.” Declared the looming shadow that had the comparatively tiny human shrinking away, despite his arms still being latched to the wall of the merchant’s vessel.

But that was an hour ago and his new ‘owner’ had appeared to collect their purchase.

It was a towering hunched creature, with a dark brown mohawk that ran from the top of it’s head, up and over the hunch before disappearing beneath it’s armour. It grinned wickedly with dangerous looking fangs. To Warren’s eyes, it’s body was a sea of scars and overdeveloped muscle. He took a guess that she was female based on the cleavage, but she looked as if she could tear a book in half with ease.

She grabbed ahold of his elbow and roughly led him away, a whimper escaped him.

This thing was massive, easily ten feet tall and all claws, teeth and muscle. At least the merchant had left him alone. What did this thing want?!

The march was brisk and silent as the grave. Warren focused on his feet, keeping his head low and doing everything he could not to burst into tears and beg them to let him go, to not hurt him. To just leave him alone.

The others had horror stories that they told one another when it was quiet and they were supposed to be asleep. Warren didn’t have any to add, he was a ‘new’ acquisition, was what the draconian had said. They’d taken him from a market place. One moment of needing to step away from the crowd and large, scaled hands had grabbed him.

“Boss!” Shouted a new voice, a brief glance upwards and Warren saw a new creature, similar in appearance to his current captor, but different enough to tell them apart.

“Since when we slavers? The crew ain’t ‘appy ‘bout this! Boss, *I* ain’t ‘appy ‘bout this.” Urged the newcomer, obviously pointing a clawed, meaty finger as Warren. He just kept his head down, the less they knew he was there, the less likely something bad would happen to him.

“We ain’t slavers.” The one holding warren retorted, before releasing the smaller human with a small shove forwards that felt like freight train had just tapped him. Warren stumbled forward into the oversized hands of the newest arrival, who just held him in place.

“I’ll get us away, n’ send a signal to the clan, n’ track the tracer I’ve dumped on their ship. Ain’t nobody ‘round ‘ere gonna’ be able to afford the rest of ‘em. We got a good few weeks to raid that asshole…” Explained the large canine-like creature. They weren’t canids, not by a long shot, but that was the only specie that they even remotely resembled.  The one now holding Warren grunted with a nod, satisfied with the leader’s words.

“And get this’un somethin’ t’ eat. Damn thing’s gonna’ turn inside out by the looks of ‘im.” She ordered, jabbing a finger warren’s way.

Without warning or any say in the matter, Warren was bodily lifted and thrown over the shoulder of the newcomer and carried away as the, seemingly, leader of the crew closed up the ramp and marched off before the human lost sight of her.

Shortly afterwards, he was brought into what could have only been a canteen. It was messy, old food stains had long since dried and were flaking off the walls and floor. The whole room was alive with similar looking creatures. Some wore armour, others; jumpsuits, some wore nothing at all. It was only because of this, Warren mentally realised that he may have been off on his guess of genders with these creatures.

They all sported chests that would make any man blush, but when his eyes naturally were drawn down the ‘nude’ creatures, he found that every one also sported significant endowments between their legs too. The whole room’s eyes were on him, the lights over head played with their gaze, some of their pupil turning reflective as they stared at him.

“’Ey! We ain’t slavin’! The boss has gone mad if their thinkin’ we’re gonna’ accept this!” Called one, which got the crowd to murmur and agree, their large heads bobbing in agreement. Warren could only glance around, petrified at the room full of at least thirty or forty dangerous looking creatures. Spikes and piercings adorned them. Some had weapons in their hands, from crude clubs to sharpened blades. They all had the posture of those who weren’t afraid. Neither for themselves nor to get what they wanted.

Raiders? Marauders? Although, based off what he’d heard, Warren couldn’t confidently pin ‘slaver’ to them. The one carrying him shouted back to the room, rather than addressing the one that spoke.

“We ain’t slavers! This un’ was all we could get our hands on.” She jostled the young man roughly as she spoke, punctuating her words. “The clan are comin’ to free the others by the tracker Boss snuck on the slaver’s ship.” She explained as she made her way to the far end of the canteen although Warren couldn’t see where she was going. He lay there, draped over her shoulder, his arms laying against the inch thick fur that was surprising soft, even with the diamond hard muscles that rippled underneath.

“So what that’un?” Shouted another voice on the other side of the room to the original that spoke. The one that carried him grunted.

“Hungry. Is wha’ he is. Get ‘im some food!” She demanded before Warren was once more lifted and brought down, placed on the floor at the feet of all these strange creatures. The one that carried him turned away and began to leave, Warren wanted to sprint after her… him? Them. Instead he remained rooted to the spot until they had left and the whole hall turned in unison at him.

He came very close to pissing himself in fear at the sight of an entire pack of giant bipedal hyenas all staring at him, some licking their chops with lines of spittle dangling down...

== 0 ==

Twenty minutes later, Warren had the fattest, largest steak he had ever seen sat on a large flat piece of metal still sizzling in front of him. It was easily an inch thick and wider than his whole torso. The idea he could eat all of this was a joke, but his growling stomach promised a good attempt.

The crew found it hilarious that he wouldn’t just pick up the meat and eat it, but one rather friendly Hyenid, as he found out what they were called, had taken out a gigantic bowie knife from their belt and sliced it into much smaller chunks. His fingers were greasy with fats, oils, salts and herbs that the chef had cooked it in. It tasted like the best steak Warren had ever eaten. Whether that was from his hunger or their skill, he didn’t care.

“So, you can’t smell?” Asked one, reaching over to touch Warren’s face and nose, only to have the same bowie knife that had cut his steak to appear, blade pointed towards the speaker, right between her fingers. The overprotective Hyenid shoved the knife towards the hand which had the speaker retract their hand, or risk the webbing between their fingers get sliced open.

“He eats first.” The wielder of the knife grumbled before shaking the bench Warren was sat on as she heavily sat down. They scooted forwards until their massive legs were touching his hips and their body was only inches away from his shoulder. He could feel her fur tickling him.

Warren chewed quickly and swallowed.

“I can smell, just not to the same degree as you guys… or many species.” He admitted, each of the creatures, still crowding him, but hanging on his every word.

“He’s tiny.” Whispered one, far too loudly.

“Is he one of the crew?” Asked another.

“What’s ‘is species called again?”

“I’m a hu-.”

“A ‘ooman!” Shouted one near to his back, obviously having heard him the first time, but talking over him now.

The crowd ‘aahed’ . It was weird being the centre of attention, and whilst they obviously had no personal boundaries, what with the overprotective Hyenid leaning forward and very obviously sniffing the young man, they weren’t the worst set of aliens he’d met before.

Being picked up like a sack of potatoes and having no manners was certainly not a deal breaker.

“Ey! Question!” Called another, Warren having long since given up trying to figure out names.

“What?” Called another.

“Where’s he sleepin’ tonight?”

The room went suddenly quiet, only broken by the loud anxious gulp as Warren swallowed a half-chewed chunk of meat and broke into a nervous sweat, now that all eyes were on him again.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 14

There was no plan, no intricate method or training for Casper to fall back on as he sprinted toward his opponent. The chintian mech lumbered forward as well, getting larger and larger to Casper’s perspective. Qik had only briefly touched upon melee brawling with mechs which mostly boiled down to the simple instruction of; ‘don’t’.

Aside from ‘don’t’, the only other advice for hers was to knock the other to the ground. Either by using one’s own mech and mass to slam into an unprepared target or go for the legs, damage them, and send them into the dirt. 

After that, the objective was to merely stomp on whoever was prone. It didn’t matter how robust a chassis was, or how much reactive armour they wore; a hundred tons of force crushing the body of a mech is more than enough to disable or outright kill the enemy. 

Or himself. 

As he closed in, Casper reared back in an all out punch. There was no finesse or skill, he merely wanted to hit the chintian mech with as much force as he could. He felt the strain in his damaged side as he fully extended then skipped into the final step forwards before throwing his full might into the strike. 

The other mech merely stepped aside as if Casper had told him the plan beforehand and jabbed once and quickly into the overextended side of Spectre’s torso, denting the metal and causing a series of warnings and alerts to flash across Casper’s mind. Reeling, having expected at least some resistance, Spectre stumbled forwards. 

Casper’s rig, a significant mass, stumbled with the lack of resistance and fell forwards, the human inside throwing his arms up to cushion the fall before rolling away from the other mech and onto his feet once more. The fall hadn’t damaged him. Spectre wasn’t broken, Zeet had fulfilled his promise to make a mech that would keep Casper in the fight for as long as possible, but in a single error, the young man inside had learned two sobering lessons. 

Firstly, he couldn’t brute force this, despite the overwhelming power of his body falsely having him believe he was invincible. He mentally admonished himself for falling into the trap again. 

Secondly, the enemy was a fighter. That was not the move of a mech pilot, who, as Qik had trained Casper to do, would have braced and tanked the hit, allowing control of the opponent. That was the move of a human. A trained human soldier or maybe fighter. Perhaps one who had been through at minimum basic training and more likely beyond. 

Casper recovered, raising from his knees to his feet and brought his fists up, mimicking the chintian mech who advanced slowly, keeping at least one foot firmly planted at all times as he approached. 

Casper wasn’t a fighter, he’d never thrown a single punch in anger before. He was the one that got picked on. Who had been kicked into the dirt back home. Back before the Earth had been destroyed, he’d done some basic sparring to remedy this, but nothing that could give him even a moment of advantage over a trained professional. He’d never passed the test of taking a punch to the face and remaining upright. 

The chintian mech surged forward and brought the left ruined gatling laser down in a diagonal stroke, braying its solid metal across the top of Casper’s rig causing him to stumble right, his optics shutting, blinding him as he flinched and tried to roll with the hit, expecting the pain of a punch to paralyse him. The enemy had no fists, unlike Casper, but it mattered little. 

In that moment of blinding, the enemy swung with the other arm, slapping Spectre’s reconnaissance unit to the left side, Casper still trying to weather the blows rather than retort. Spectre’s head was knocked right into the waiting left arm of the chintian mech that had already begun its second swing, knocking Casper into the dirt once more. 

{Move!} Qik fired before Casper had even landed, desperate for him not to make the mistake of staying still.

The Spectre’s jets punched into the dirt, rolling the mech away from the other fighter and sent the wet mud up, splattering the chintian mech as it brought down a heavy foot, intending on crushing Casper into the sucking mud. 

There was no time to do more than recover, as Casper scurried backwards, trying to get his feet underneath him, The Pilot offered no quarter, advancing, chasing him and wailing blows down upon him as soon as he was in reach. Spectre’s arms raised up, fending off blow after blow until a backhanded swing connected forcefully across Casper’s back, sending him into the air once more in a shower of sparks and squealing metal. 

Casper was near the city one more and reached out into the buildings to offer him leverage to stand back up. The young man was panicking, he had no out, no way to prevent the pain that would come with his beating. He had nothing!

The chintian mech was on him just as the Spectre turned with its arms raised. The chintian mech rammed into Casper, knocking him backwards into the building and sending yet more rubble cascading down into the streets at their feet. The chintian mech fired out a series of blows, a flurry using its right arm to batter the recon unit precariously protected by the Spectre’s arms. 

He couldn’t do anything!

{Casper!}

The onslaught wasn’t slowing or stopping. There was no mercy or forgiveness. Just as Casper began to feel the rhythm of the assault, a blow to his mech’s stomach had his hands drop an inch only to receive more damage warnings across the sides of his face, bringing his arms back up in a instinctual flinch. 

There was nothing he could do. Casper wasn’t a fighter! He should have never believed what the geckins or the lopeljack had been saying! He wasn’t a mercenary, he wasn’t a pilot. 

He was a human. A weak, malnourished human with no hope of winning this fight. He’d always been afraid. Before Earth and after. He hated pain, avoided it his whole life. Casper had only kept getting in the mechs because they made him feel strong. They removed that fear of the pain. He fell into their addictive trap. Hook, line and sinker. 

[I can’t win.]

{Stop hiding! You can do this! You’re not even hurt!}

But he was! All it would take was one punch and his face would lance with blinding, horrible pain… 

The chintian mech landed another blow into the Spectre’s besieged side. 

Casper got warnings, and alerts, but…

There was no ‘pain’ he realised with confusion. 

He had flinched, wincing, leaving himself open to more attacks just by expecting it. Blinking with realisation, Casper dropped his elbow to block the next blow only to receive a left haymaker across the face. 

He got alerts that one of his optic lenses was cracked, but there was no blinding flare of pain. Only a clinical detached itemised list of warnings and alerts. His mind remained sharp, half expecting the pain, yet receiving none. Even when he didn’t tense, or flinch during the following strikes across his head. He didn’t even close his eyes for the next body shot. 

He weather it without fear. The machine’s body sacrificing itself for his own weak flesh. 

He was without pain. What was there to fear in a fight if not pain?

After a life of agony and weakness, he had unknowingly convinced himself that the mech was his body again… But it wasn’t. 

His body was weak, yes, but the machine he was protected inside wasn’t. The mech might not be invincible, neither was he. But inside the mech he *felt* invincible. Casper realised that he didn’t need to fear pain, he could go all out without worrying about being scared by it all.

The Spectre unit bent low, around a gut punch from the chintian made machine, before rising with a fist that came all the way from the ground floor. It connected with the enemy mech and knocked its balance backwards, forcing it to take several steps as it jerked itself forwards, to prevent it from flailing. 

The Pilot took a step back towards Casper and tried to side step the straight jab that Casper threw, only for the Spectre unit to balance on one foot and swing his leg out, kicking the side of the enemy mech in a lightning fast strike. 

Sparks and the sound of bending metal rang out again. 

The other fighter stumbled sideways, The Pilot inside, growling in frustration as he had to devote effort in not simply falling over. 

Casper on the other hand was shocked that it had worked. He had expected his leg to burn in pain, but all that happened was the enemy had stopped wailing on him. Casper hesitated, watching the other machine right itself before it began stomping towards him once more. 

It was heavy. Lumberous. It had more movement than Qik’s around the torso, but it still had to lumber forwards and backwards. Limited in its movements. It couldn’t skip, or leap. But Spectre could.

Casper loosened up. He made the concerted effort to stop tensing his whole body and instead began to bounce on the tips of his toes. The Spectre unit ruined the ‘skis’ on the bottom of its feet, bending the metal as it leaned forwards and forced small craters of mud out from underneath it as it bobbed and bounced, arms up, ready for a fight, emulating the movements of a fearless cage fighter.

The chintian mech launched forwards, seemingly enraged that Casper would find his feet and threw a haymaker after a jab after a strike, but each one had Casper leaning back and trying to keep away from the other machine, slapping the ruined stubs away in moments that he could. 

Casper didn’t need to be perfect, even when the other fighter was close enough to clip Spectre, it was only glancing blows and even then, with each hit, Casper realised more and more that he had nothing to be afraid of in the fight. All he had to do was keep the other mech on the attack, whilst he backed off, arms up. 

The enemy mech paused for a moment, seemingly taking a breather. Inside the chintian cockpit, sweat beaded off The Pilot, every punch thrown by the machine was a direct mimicry of his own. The puppetry gloves that wrapped around his hands copied his every move. Each missed punch was one that The Pilot had also physically thrown and wasted the energy.

Casper grinned deep within his pilot casket. 

The Spectre unit kept one arm up, protecting his head, just out of reach from the other mech, as his other arm waved in front of him. Suggesting the other mech keep coming, beckoning him. Taunting him. 

This didn’t trigger the enemy, there was no sudden enraged leap forwards. The chintian mech came forwards again, steady and ready, throwing out another series of punches that hit nothing but air as Casper backed away, just out of reach of the mech. Evading and escaping, leaning heavily on the one advantage he had over the more experienced enemy.

[You can’t catch me, can you? You’ve nothing for this. You didn’t stop us from destroying the tanks. You can’t beat me. You only took out Scrub via surprise. You’re a disappointment aren’t you?]

((Kiep odmawia, gdy nie Kiep prosi…))

The chintian mech suddenly lurched forwards as its own back mounted jets ignited and sent it toppling forwards and careening into Casper’s middle. Not expecting this, but rolling with it; Casper’s own jets fired and launched him backwards and up, absorbing the blow and mass of the other machine into a hug as the two machines connected. 

Spectre put all its energy into its own boosters and raised the pair of them up. 

The two fights, still clawing at one another, lifted into the air, until they collided with one of the buildings. Both packs still firing forced them upwards, sending concrete and debris flying as the pair of machines clutched at each other whilst dragging one another into and through the various floors.  

Eventually they broke free of the buildings and the cityscape fell away beneath them. Rain pelted them and lightning forked in the distance.

Casper had been afraid his whole life. Fearing for his body. Fearing for his mind. Fear for his whole species. He was afraid of the mere thought of being in pain that he had grasped at the first thing that had not only promised to take away his physical pain, but also his mental anguish. 

The thought of Qik getting hurt or doing this on her own abhorred Casper. He had to win, he had to get back to her, he had to eat and care for himself, because if he didn’t; who would look after her?

This pilot that faced him, that snarled at him from within the chintian machine might not be his ‘enemy’ in the grand scheme of things, but right now he represented the fear that Casper alone had to wrestle with every day of his life. 

But he wasn’t alone now. 

Qik was with him. 

Her company would be his. 

He wasn’t Casper when he was piloting. 

He was Spectre. 

The dark grey mech released its grip on the other mech’s with one hand whilst holding the enemy closer to him with the other, bringing the two together. 

With his free hand he reached for the other machine’s back. He felt the sensitive jet pack with its intake and slapped his hand directly into the yawning maw of the engine. 

In seconds Spectre’s entire hand was torn from its housing and sucked into the sensitive inners of the jet’s engine. Instantly the large reactor housed within the pack exploded, a huge firestorm that blew most of the enemy mech’s torso to smithereens. It was only because of the mass of the other mech that Spectre remained unscathed.  

Casper brought his legs up, using his knees to force the two of them apart as he shoved and straightened his whole body in one herculean effort. 

The now limp chintian mech’s arms broke apart, servos disconnected and shattering with the force as Spectre backflipped away and straightened, aiming to land back into the city as he would jumping down from a raised platform. 

Casper’s jump pack burned even hotter as he neared the ground and softened his fall as Spectre’s knees absorbed the impact with a natural grace that hadn’t been seen by any mech pilot before now. 

The Spectre’s head looked up, optics clicking and watched as the out of control jet pack continued to circle and spin in a completely wild, unmanaged death spiral. 

Up to the point where the reactor that fed the jets exploded. 

The sky lit up and long shadows appeared everywhere as the chintian mech exploded with such force that the very air was blown away and rushed back in, toppling already damaged buildings and causing a domino effect as they collapsed. 

[Qik!] 

Casper’s jets ignited again and sent him flying towards where Qik’s mech still lay as the building she had fallen into began to collapse. Casper wasn’t fast enough as the building began to bury the red mech from sight. 

[Qik; say something!]

{I’m fine. You have to drop more than a building on me to take me out.}

Casper skidded to a halt as the dust began to settle over the new rubble pile where Qik’s mech was buried. 

[I thought, god I thought after all that, it would be the building that gets you.]

{Nah, but do you mind getting me out though? This will be embarrassing if anyone shows up and sees this.}

Casper would have laughed if he was able and reached down to start shifting rubble with his one remaining good hand. By the first fist full of ruined concrete, the scratched and dented red paint of Qik’s mech appeared, a stark contrast to the muted greys of the burnt and now destroyed building materials.

As he worked, Casper turned his head to a sonic boom in the distance. His optics zoomed in and he got a bad feeling creeping up his spine. 

From the skies, a trio of ships broke through the clouds and levelled out, screeching towards where Casper stood and Qik lay. They were moving low and fast over the terrain. 

[We got inbound.]

{We’ll be okay}

They didn’t look friendly to Casper, nor did they appear like any of the models of geckin ships that Casper was now familiar with. They were of sleek black metal with sharp angles and wings and tails that ended in dangerous looking spikes and points. The geckin crafts looked functional, these looked animalistic.

Casper sped up his actions, clearing the ejection tube for Qik’s pilot casket. 

[Eject, I’ll get us away.]

{No need Spectre.}

Casper growled, frustrated that the lopel didn’t seem to get the urgency of the situation! The ships were right on them!

[They’re right on us Qik!]

{They’re friendly Casper. Meet your new family.}

[What?]

Casper, still crouched over Qik’s exposed mech, watched the aircraft carefully as they approached the city limits and the pair of damaged mechs. Just as they got within a few hundred metres, the crafts pulled up their noses sharply, and the engines tilted, pushing down against gravity and inertia, rather than pushing the aircraft through the air. 

The VTOLs all landed very close to both the Spectre and Scrub units. Casper watched them very closely, ready to lash out the moment they did something he didn’t like. From the bellies of the ships came several lopels, each rushing over to Qik’s disabled mech and toward Spectre. 

“Youz two ready to leave? Contracts done and we got a nice big fat bonus for takin’ out that there other pilot. Some crazy human that folk have been having trouble killing apparently.” Came a new rough and ready voice over the open radio. Casper couldn’t tell who was speaking, and turned to Qik’s mech. 

[Qik?]

{Power down and disengage. Put yourself in their hands.}

[Are you sure?]

{Trust me Casper, these guys as Tactical Solutions Co, they’re our company. Our family. This team’s  job is to keep you safe. Let’s go meet the family, yeah?}

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 13

Casper’s optics scanned the smouldering wreck of Qik’s rig and found that whilst her reactor was still online, more concernedly; her pilot casket was still contained inside instead of ejecting away from danger. 

The caskets were designed to save the most important part of these warmachines, the pilot. From life support to stealth capabilities, the point to the caskets was to fire the pilots away from the threat once their mechs had become immobilised. 

A downed mech as a coffin, to stay inside was to invite disaster. 

[Qik?!] Casper sent urgently, already feeling that he’d spent too long in one place against the new danger. 

{I’m fine! Focus on the danger!}

Unconsciously nodding, the Spectre unit pushed off from the building and deliberately moved away from Qik, trying to draw the new threat away from her prone and vulnerable form. 

As soon as his machine broke from the building, he was showered with short, beams of light that caused whatever they hit to crater in a shower of debris and pulverished concrete. Ducking down one street, Casper zigged and zagged, breaking line of sight whilst staying as low as he could. 

His advantage was his build, it was meant to be low and fast, able to hide and obfuscate it’s own radar profile. 

{It’s a chintian mech, they’re tough, you’re not built for this fight.} 

[Eject and get away or shut up. If you suggest I leave you I’m shooting you myself.]

{He’s not a newbie. He’s clearing streets as he moves. Be careful.}

[What about you?]

{Playing dead. Not a threat to him.}

Casper closed his eyes and willed his sensors to reach out for the threat. He felt it immediately, a large ‘ping’ on his sensors that was systematically searching for him. It wasn’t moving directly at his location though.

‘He can’t find me.’ Casper realised, instantly making a mental note to thank Zeet for making good on his word to make a fast, quiet machine. Casper glanced down at his hand where he still gripped the sword in his right and considered his options. 

Gripping it until his hand’s servos whined, Casper began to make his way towards the new threat, doing his best to get behind him. 

After a few minutes though, he realised that the practised movements of the chintian built mech was not just impressive, it kept Casper from being able to sneak around and get at the enemy’s back. 

Instead, Casper waited behind one corner, and calmed himself, cooling his reactor as he waited in ambush. The threat kept both arms out and ready, fully prepared to squeeze his triggers and light up the Spectre as soon as it showed itself. 

As the enemy approached, Casper shoved with all his might into the corner of the building, sending a shower of concrete and debris across the enemy, blinding him. Casper immediately followed this with a wide, upwards slash, fully intending on cutting the target down by bisecting it from hip to shoulder. 

But his blade passed through nothing. 

Just as Casper was agile, so was the enemy and the front of Casper’s mech received a punishing hailstorm of damage as the chintian mech jumped backwards, firing as it leaped away from the danger, unafraid or even seemingly surprised by the ambush. 

Grimacing, Casper raised his arm to fend off the burning shots as he retreated and spun away, engaging his thrusters to distance himself and try again. He expected the enemy to chase him, or at least follow and pepper him, but none of the punishment came. 

Dropping into another crouch, Casper made an effort to get as far away as he could from the enemy. 

((Ha! Żałosne! Nikt cię synku mieczem robić nie nauczył?! No chodź! Wyłaź pokrako! Psi pomiocie! Czasu w życiu mi nie stanie! Stawaj!))

Casper blinked, shocked to his core, as whilst he didn’t understand what the script said, he recognised the words, or at least the language. It was from Earth. 

[Wait! I’m human!]

((Ni brat, ni krewny lecz Boże Dziecię. Toć jedną szansę dam. Poddaj lub giń.))

Taking a chance, Casper poked one side of his reconnaissance unit out from the corner he was hiding behind before ducking back in a section later. He was already moving away when the volley ripped that section of the city corner to pieces. 

Casper half crawled, half scrambled to take as many lefts and rights as he could whilst not completely abandoning Qik’s machine. He needed to keep the other pilot’s attention, but also find an opening. 

[Fine then! Fuck you! Come and get me.]

((WIJ SIĘ TCHÓRZU! Piskorzu zaropiały! Wstyd na cały twój niedołężny ród! Diabelskich sztuczek ci nie starczy co by z życiem ujść! Przeklęta magia Odmieńców! Bez niej dawno byś syneczku żarł piach!!))

Casper, still unsure of the enemy’s words, monitored his movements instead. The accent was thick and without the translation software working, he had no clue as to what the pilot was saying. It could have been mocking, or even suggesting they sit down for a chat and he wouldn’t know. 

Still, for all his training, it appeared as if the other mech was working from line of sight only, not being able to ‘sense’ where Casper hid. The young man needed to commit to the attack, he needed to surprise the other pilot completely, and have him within range of his blade. 

Several minutes passed by without either combatant seeing each other. 

Within the chintian mech, the human pilot held his arms up and out, ready to squeeze the physical triggers that his own, flesh and blood hands held. Within the cockpit, his upper body counted as the puppeteer for the mech itself. Unlike the geckin made machines, the chintians relied on physical piloting, aiming and shooting. 

The onboard intelligences could act independently when without a pilot, but they were limited as guards for an area, or guard dogs for a single individual, usually the pilot who had disengaged. 

It meant the chintian mechs were far more robust, and their pilots unspoilt by their times within the mechs, capable of existing inside the machines without any negative effects to their health, the downside was that they were limited to readouts. The reacted to the machine’s information, to the reaction time of the pilot, viewing the screens then instructing the machine into action. 

It took time to get used to it, but The Pilot had long since gotten used to piloting any number of different designs from his old fighter, to the new cutting edge pieces of technology. 

This difference between the two designs of the machine however, meant that when Casper sprung from his hiding space, The Pilot could only react, and whilst saved himself and the majority of the machine, snarled in frustration as warnings alerted him to the loss of one of his main weapons. 

Casper had laucnhed himself from the ground floor of one of the buildings. On the opposite side of the building, it had been gutted, yet remained up right. After quietly squeezing himself inside, thanks to his masterful control over the machine and its dimensions, he had launched himself forwards once the target was in range, sweeping his sword up in an all out attacked, with the goal of cutting the bastard in half. 

He felt the shudder of his blade hitting the other mech and felt genuine hope bloom inside of him as the right arm of the machine was spiralling off down the road, sparks flying from the smooth cut through the metal.

Casper’s joy was short lived as once more, he was hosed down with withering fire that had him retreat again, several of his systems reporting damage to his right side. He immediately felt sore there, as if he had pulled a muscle and now was unable to use it properly. Putting several buildings between himself and the other pilot, he tried to move and bend, only to find that his full range of movement was now limited with certain turns. 

It didn’t matter, one of the enemy’s weapons was now gone, he could win this. 

Casper half expected The Pilot to say something, to acknowledge his blow, yet instead, all that happened was a change in stance. A personality shift. As if the enemy was now leaning forwards, focused on the fight in totality. 

Casper heard the sounds of the enemy mech’s jet ignite, forcing him to turn, keeping the blade out in front of him just in case of an attack. 

That said however, he watched as the enemy machine rose into the sky before landing on top of the tallest building in the distance near Qik’s still prone machine. It fired dust out from beneath the machine and huge cracks appeared in the burnt out shell’s superstructure as the heavy device landed unceremoniously before traversing its torso around, bringing its lone weapon to bare. 

Bracing its remaining weapon, the gatling laser on the end of his left arm with the useless right arm, the enemy immediately spotted the Spectre unit and opened fire. Casper ducked and half crawled, half jumped out of the way and tried to reposition, but from the machine’s new vantage point, he could spot Casper the moment he poked any part of his body out from behind solid cover. 

[Fuck! Qik, I can’t get close!]

{I can give you an opening, but you need to be ready.}

[I won’t be able to close the distance!]

{You’ve only got one chance. Throw your sword.}

[What if I miss?]

{Everything I’ve seen so far tells me every weakness you had in the body, is compensated for in the machine. Just use your instincts. You ready?}

Casper ducked again as the weapon's fire doused across the concrete of the building he was hiding behind.

[Do it.]

Beyond Casper’s sight, the protective flaps on Qik’s torso opened, revealing one of the last usable salvos she had. The Pilot’s early warning system immediately gave a shrill alert that instantly told The Pilot he was being painted with a missile lock. 

Fractions of a second later, he had to roll his entire body to dodge the chaotic swirling storm of smaller missiles that threatened to detonate across his body. His desperate tumble however, broke line of sight with Qik’s mech as he fell from her perch and braced himself to land roughly on the asphalt below. 

Casper was already waiting for him, his sword held aloft like a javelin. 

With every ounce of his strength, he threw the blade as far and as hard as he could, aiming for the centre mass of the enemy machine, where the pilot would be sat. 

Hundreds of thousands of years of human evolution was dumped into the Spectre’s targeting computer. Ones and zeros that counted in the trillions taught the machine how to perfectly throw an item with the instinct to follow. The targeting computer threw in its own opinion on what was the danger to them and picked its target appropriately. 

The sword sliced through the air and hit its target was perfect accuracy, pinning the remaining gatling laser to the building’s wall, even before the chintian mech had come out of his landing crouch. 

((Skurwysynie!))

Something told Casper that The Pilot wasn’t congratulating him on a fine strike, but the young man still allowed himself a faint smile across his face. 

((Obrzydliwym jest, kopanie leżącego. Lecz jeślim zmuszon, tak też uczynię.))

Instantly, Casper felt something was drastically wrong as the enemy combatant turned away from Casper and ran towards where Qik had been. The Spectre’s booster roared to life and sped the young human towards where the enemy pilot had been only moments before. He zigged and zagged through the streets before finding the main thoroughfare again as he watched the chintian mech running full pelt towards the still prone torso of Qik. 

[Eject! Eject!]

((SZCZEŹNIJ!!!))

As the chintian mech raised a heavy metal foot over the ejection port of Qik’s mech, the Spectre unit slammed into The Pilot’s back, sending both of them tumbling, rolling head over heels with the sheer speed and force in which Casper and crashed into them. 

The pair of them fell out of the city limits and into the bombed out wasteland that may have been pristine and rolling green hills at some point in the past. 

The chintian mech was first on his feet, followed shortly by Casper. 

Neither of them had any weapons they could draw on, but they were now on even ground, facing off with each other. 

Casper wanted him dead. He’d threatened the one ally the human had, had since leaving Earth. 

Human or not, this bastard was dying. 

The Spectre raised it’s hands into fists, raised up and ready to beat the other mech into the ground. The chintian model followed suit, the gatlings may have been scrap; but The Pilot didn’t need fist to beat on a petulant child. 

The two stared at each other as the rain continued to beat down against them. 

As one, the pair ran at each other.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 12

“Drop zone approaching. Get ready.” Called the dropship’s pilot from far up in a cockpit somewhere. Casper’s body was encased in his own pilot casket and felt none of the violent shaking and sudden drops as the craft rapidly dropped into the atmosphere, heating its belly until it glowed a brilliant orange. 

However, the rig that the young man was piloting, still shook and rattled in its clamps. Thanks to the fearless sensations of piloting such a sturdy piece of machinery, unlike his body that was fallible; he never felt worry or fear from these worrying judders.The optics of the mech were already online and scanning the bay carefully. He’d zoomed in on the only other creature, a geckin, that was in sight too many times to count already. Casper shut off the optics as the geckin, unaware it was being observed, picked its nose before happily consuming the prize it had retrieved. 

[Grim.] Casper sent, mildly annoyed that emotions never came across in the text-like messages the two pilots could exchange without speaking. 

{What?} Qik returned, in a separate craft that likewise, was dropping into the combat area.

[Our benefactors. Just watched one put their whole ass hand up one nostril.]

{Yummy. Looked like your breakfast, didn’t it?}

The nutrient slop, or ‘slurry’ as they oh so appetisingly called it, was what Casper had to eat both in the morning and at night if he wanted to maintain his already drastically lowered weight. It had the consistency of the word ‘goop’ and, now it had been pointed out to him, the colour of geckin snot. 

[I am literally never going to eat again.]

Casper didn’t get a reply, but clicked his optics with the feeling that Qik was laughing or grinning in her own rig at his words. They remained in silence for a minute more before the geckin Casper was watching touched a hand to his own ear before making his way to the exit. 

“Inbound! Ten seconds!”

The digging geckin fled the room as moments later the floor beneath Casper’s feet opened and a roaring wind blasted up and into the space. The young pilot couldn’t tilt his body down, so most of his view was obscured by his own body, but he could see a dark, grey landscape far below what would be his dangling feet. 

{I’m dropping after you, my original LZ is no good. Get eyes on the operation area, don’t approach yet.}

[Yes ma’am.]

{You’re going to make a fine merc.}

“Dropping!”

Despite not ‘having’ a stomach, Casper still felt a phantom one fall out from beneath him as the sturdy metal clamps that had held his rig steady during the transport, released him as one. Gravity took hold of him, along with inertia and both he and his rig were launched from the dropship at great speed toward an infinite ground. As soon as the mech was cleared, the craft did a sharp upward swing, arcing into the clouds and away from any danger that lurked below.

Casper kept himself upright as he fell despite feeling himself tilt forwards and backwards. Blue streaks of his boosters fired in short, sharp bursts, righting himself perfectly as he threatened to tumble. As he careened toward the pockmarked terrain at speed, the man checked he was coming in at an angle, roughly forty five degrees to ensure he could slide to a stop, bleeding his speed without pummelling the ground at full force. 

It wasn’t a danger to do that, but he wasn’t specifically built for that.Some rigs could dramatically enter like that, and it was overall better for them to punch straight down, some even incorporating an air burst landing deployment, igniting the surrounding area of the drop point in an explosion that would merely liquidise the internals of anything organic in the area. Those rigs were super heavies, designed for ‘hot’ drops. 

But that wasn’t Casper. He’d never wanted that style of machine. Zeet and he, along with Qik, had chosen from a wide selection of parts to create the mech that ‘felt’ closest to what he would be, if ‘he’, Casper, were a mech and not merely piloting one.

The result? As he fell, he felt light, like he could almost glide down if he wanted to. He felt as if one arrange twitch of his shoulder would get the same from his metal body. 

He felt ‘right’. 

It took a scant few seconds before his legs hit the terrain with such force it sent rocks and dirt flying all around in a great cloud that obscured him from suddenly awake and watching eyes in the distance for a moment. A fraction of a second later, those eyes watched a dark grey machine fly out of the dust cloud on skis, trailing smoke and dirt in its wake that followed it like vapour trails from a jet. 

The mech skidded to a halt a hundred metres away from its landing site, its legs bracing into the skid and a series of three large blue cones of fire slowing him to a halt. It remained still, its two optic ports, scanning and watching the city where the unseen eyes watched it back, undetected by the interloper. The long blade in its hand was not ignored, the machine held it out to one side, the metal perfectly flat. The rain that hadn’t ceased in three weeks, merely pinged and beaded along the perfect edge. 

The fisheye lens that was watching, clicked its aperture beforing zooming in rapidly and reading the stencilled text across the interloper’s chest, reporting it to its absent masters. 

S P E C T R E

Meanwhile, Casper kept low. He used one hand to brace the front of his mech against the ground as he lowered himself further. Chances were, if there was anyone in the bombed out mega city in the distance, they would have noticed the giant walking mech falling from the sky and causing the same size dust cloud as a building falling over would.

Then again, they also could have dismissed his landing as another shell fired from the distant geckin artillery that had peppered the city with a sustained bombardment before he and Qik arrived for the last forty eight hours. The enemy wouldn’t know when the bombardment would stop, they could use this ignorance to gain a brief element of surprise. 

{Spectre, I’m down and inbound. Anything?}

A friendly ‘blip’ began to grow in Casper’s perception. The motion radar, or ‘MR’, along with both ‘friendly’ signals still felt strange to Casper, but it was one of the aspects he had demanded from Zeet. A low profile for himself, but a more sensitive sensor suite for him. He wanted to see the enemy, but not have them see him. 

What it meant was, he could ‘tell’ where something was, without needing to look away at a radar readout, or even flick his eyes to a compass with markers. A tiny advantage, but one that had already served him well, way back when he had first fought Qik. 

At this time, there was no movement from the dead city.

[Negative Scrub. No one is moving.]

A red mech appeared at Casper’s side, its recon unit briefly turning his way, nodding before turning back. Qik’s mech, compared to Casper’s, felt clunky to the human now. It had none of the articulation his has. When he turned her way to nod back at her, his shoulder pulled back, his arm dropped a fraction. He was fluid. Her whole torso turned, her ‘head’ bobbed, then her whole frame twisted back. It wasn’t her fault, but now the man knew what to look for, he had access to whole other level of movement compared to hers. 

She knelt, her body remaining upright, while he stayed low, his legs supporting him, but his whole body brought low by his efforts. His profile was far lower than hers. Still, she knew combat better than him.

He’d seen her in a fight through several of their training sessions. It was one thing to be able to move out of the way of incoming shots, it was another not to expose oneself in the first place.

Casper, or rather, ‘Spectre’ as was his code name on mission, focused up.

The pair of them began to systematically scan the seemingly dead city. Spires and towers were burnt out, some having toppled over. There were ssypno forces in the area, the geckin intel had explained that. Since ssypno equipment was high end and dangerous, it was harder for them to replace it.

Their job was to make this planet expensive for the noble conducting this battle. It was the only language that kind of person understood. 

[Scrub, I got a question.]

{Go on.}

[Why ‘Scrub’ of all things?]

When Qik had offhandedly told Casper that her own callsign was ‘Scrub’ she was offended and confused when he barked a single coughing laugh before getting a reign on it. She was deadly serious and rather proud of her callsign. The young man, besides an errant comment, had left it there, but now felt as good a time as any to ask; why ‘Scrub’ of all things?

{Because I scour the battlefield clean. My ops are always described as the cleanest, unless I'm working with someone. They’re always the messy ones.}

[I’m just saying, humans might interpret it differently.]

{You said, but I didn’t spend my career building a name for myself to just change it on a whim. You read?}

[Aye aye Scrub.]

{Right, let's get this done and then we can get paid and you can get a taste of the good life. You ready?}

[When you are.] 

Casper urged himself forward as he felt Qik’s ‘blip’ move away to the west, taking a wide route around the edge of the city itself. His ‘feet’ were elongated, turning them into skis that glided across the terrain with amazing ease. His spinal mount, a dedicated jetpack pushed him forwards with vents that could open and close in an instant, allowing him to adjust and change direction with a single thought. He could still walk and run, if he wanted to, but the idea was the ability to lean into the slide and ‘skate’ across the landscape, pushing against the ground with the side of his feet.

The speed at which the city approached and became large, imposing buildings that suddenly dwarfed him, was alarming. He slowed and dropped into  a run, then walk, as he made it into the city proper, using the wide streets to fit his mech between the buildings with ease. He kept his blade held low, in both hands, ready to bring it up and swing at a moment’s notice. 

Before reaching this planet, Casper had never held a weapon before, but now, with copious amounts of software all feeding him instincts and knowledge that wasn’t his, there was a vague sense of longing for a long range weapon, instead of being limited to the length of his blade. 

That said, there was nothing for him to attack. He raised the blade to step around another building before lowering out and ready down the next street, but it was just, yet another, empty thoroughfare. 

He didn’t need military software to tell when something felt… off.

[Scrub, do you read?]

{Loud and clear Spectre, what's the situation?}

[Zero contacts. MR isn’t picking anything up and there's nothing in the streets. No sign of any mechanised forces. Are we sure we’re in the right place? Are we getting played?]

Casper couldn’t help but think of the contract the geckins had forced him into. In a desperate need to get something more from the human and his unprecedented lack of drifting when mentally piloting a machine, the geckins had not taken it well when he had expressed he wanted to leave. So much so, the only way for him to ‘win’ his freedom, was to complete the op, without getting disabled. If he wasn’t able to walk away from the op, then the geckins, or more specifically, one of their corpo-nations would *own* Casper outright, changing his designation from a person, to a ‘thing’. 

Whilst the geckins hated the ssypno with a passion, a trick or trap to retain access to Casper, might not be outside their morals.

{I wouldn’t put it past the geckins to try something, but if the op is a wash, then they still have to pay us and we’re free and clear. They wouldn’t have fed us bad intel for us to go out here for nothing.}

The Spectre mech peered down street after street, holding the blade out, ready to cut anything that moved or scuttled in half, yet each time; it was devoid of life until he found himself, quite deep into the city. 

Closing his optics for a moment, Casper willed himself to send a ping out, searching for *anything* that might show where his enemy was hiding. All he needed as a fraction of movement. 

He focused, his mind mentally tuning the sensitiveity of his radar, it sensed the rain, a beehive of noise that was too much, so with an errant twitch of his head, he tuned out the rain. He sensed himself, receiving false reports of a mech, but it was only him. He removed that too. Blind to the outside world, he stayed in place, reaching out with invisible hands, groping blindly for anything. 

There were creatures, things that scuttled and things that moved. Living organic creatures of small size. They reminded him of rats, but no rats survived the destruction of Earth to his knowledge. The things were squidgits, vermin if left unchecked, cattle if desired. They scurried and hid in the sewers far beneath Casper’s mech’s feet. Oddly, whilst plenty of the buildings still had these creatures inside, several, were *devoid* of movement. Not a single living thing could be felt by his sensitive suites. 

The optics snapped open, and clicked again. Turning his head towards the nearest towering building, he leaned forwards, trying to peer through the destroyed structure to the otherside, but found it dark and unable to see the whole way. This was only one of the nearby buildings that the squidgits avoided for some reason. The building was a husk, burnt out from some unchecked fire, most likely caused by the geckin shelling. The inside was too dark to see anything.

With a mere thought, a floodlight attached to Casper’s head, winked on and bathed the building and its bombed out floors in a brilliant white light. 

The sea of cyclops eyes constricted to tiny points as the sea of fisheye lenses reacted to the sudden wash of bright light. In turn, the countless laser cannons strapped to their spines whined as electricity suddenly washed through them. 

The MR was suddenly bombarded with with a crowd of movement as the buildings all around Casper came to life.Casper merely ducked as the space his mech had occupied only moments before was dissected by no less than seven beams, all wishing to decapitate him in one fell swoop. 

[They’re in the buildings!] He sent frantically, as a wave of scuttling mechanised bots surged from the building and landed on his mech. 

Not wanting them on him for a single second, Casper brought his arm up to protect himself and braced his shoulder. Spectre’s main booster, sitting firmly in the dead centre of his back, roared to life and launched the human’s rig into the building and out the other side in a shower of destroyed rebar and materials. The smaller multi-legged technicals were sent flying in all directions, having no hope of holding onto the mech as it punched through a building. 

[Jesus!] Casper exclaimed as he turned his head back and  watched the buildings suddenly come alive as each floor seemed to disgorge multiples of the round, bulbous, skittering machines in a manner that reminded the man of infestations from Earth. If his rig had skin, the young man was certain it would be crawling.

Remembering his sword, Casper swung it in a downward swipe along the edge of one of the buildings, cutting clean through two with zero feedback as his sword found zero resistance. The metal hulls sparked and fizzled before burning brightly as they fell despite the rain even as they hit the street below. 

Bright lines of light lit up the air between the buildings and scorched down the front of Casper’s mech, leaving deep valleys of burnt metal in their wake. Gritting his teeth,a side vent snapped open and a gout of blue flames pushed his mech sideways by pure instinct, breaking line of sight with the swarm and preventing further damage. 

{Spectre, report.}

[Contacts! Lots of contacts!]

{I see them, locking on but I need to see more. Just keep moving!}

[They’re crowding me, how are they this organised?!]

{They’re computers, no living crew. They seem smart, but it’s just a swarm. Stick to the plan!}

Casper barely made it to the next intersection where his rig could fit before he saw the bright yellow lines of the spider tank’s weapons cutting into the concrete like material of the surrounding buildings. He practically dove down the next street and picked up the speed again. 

As he glided down the road, he saw yet more of the machines breaking through the exterior walls of the buildings and began crawling down towards the ground. 

{Head west; towards me. Try and get as many as you can in one long line.}

[Wilco. One conga line, coming up!]

East, North, East, North, South. 

Casper used his boosters to jump from corner to corner, flitting from side to side, avoiding and evading the growing crowd that was mere feet behind him. Any building, or even corner of a building that was in his way was destroyed. He felt like a cannonball, fired from its home and would merely bust through anything foolish enough to get in his way. 

The bright streaks of line that burnt and destroyed the concrete around him only served to remind him that the enemy was still on his tail. Despite his confidence, he couldn’t let his guard down. Overconfidence would mean his and Qik’s destruction. 

West, North, East, North, West. 

When he turned down what had to have been a main artery for the destroyed city in the past, Casper could feel that Qik was roughly in front of him in the far distance, she was just on the very edges of his sensor suite’s range. Firing his boosters, his skis slid him down the road until the spider tanks began to pour onto the main thoroughfare from either side. 

Using his sword in an upwards sweeping motion, he cut several through their centre mass, but it was a mere handful out of the seemingly endless hoard that was following. He speared several more on the tips themselves, not slowing his escape in the slightest. 

From the distance, Casper watched as countless red lights suddenly appeared on the horizon in a beautiful dazzling sunburst. They hung there for a second before the lights turned into red streaks that raced up into the rainy sky, leaving behind white trails of smoke. They then seemingly paused before Casper’s entire early warning system lit up that he was in the direct path of this bombardment, his fiddling with his sensor suite had left him blind to such threats and had him duck in the very last second as they screamed towards their true targets.

They hadn’t been pausing in the sky, they were arcing towards him. 

Spectre leaned forward, nearly toppling forwards, and willed itself onwards, increasing its speed until it began to pull away from the amazingly agile spider tanks. 

Moments later, Casper could see the bright flashes of explosions somewhere behind him illuminate the surrounding buildings for a brief second. That didn’t matter. If it was behind him, it wasn’t hitting *him*. Relief washed over him as several of the moving, angry ‘blips’ that had been racing after him winked out of existence. 

{Brilliant! Just got a few to mop up, but that was excellent!} Qik sent, as Casper rapidly approached where she waited at the city’s edge. From her bulky torso, several flaps opened as he approached and yet more of the red lights were launched from her. The lights were the burners for the rockets that streaked into the sky before taking a harsh turn and streaking into the city, where Casper suspected that they would rapidly meet some of the creepy, crawling tanks. 

The Spectre mech shuddered as one, its various metal parts and hydraulics complaining with a loud crash. Scrub ponderous turned to face Spectre expectantly as the remaining targets seemed reluctant to approach, having had their numbers vastly cut down.

[I hate those things!]

{Yeah, MGUs or AATMGUs to be correct. Automated, all terrain mechanised guard units. Nobody likes them, they’re annoying to get out of an area because you have to expose yourself.}

The two machines stood there a moment, facing the city, scanning for any of the MGUs that decided to pop their head out. Whilst they were constantly scuttling, demanding both of their attention, they were staying out of sight for the moment. 

{Thanks for being bait.} Qik sent without prompting. Having Casper’s head turn to face her. 

[No worries, I knew you had my back.] 

{Always.}

Casper was turning to look back into the city and question if they were going to have to mop up the remaining MGU when there was a flicker of a ‘blip’ in his mind’s eye. He had messed with so much of the sensor suite’s settings and was so focused on the city that he couldn’t make out what he was perceiving straight away. 

He didn’t even get a chance to send the [What was that?] as a long missile streaked into the side of Qik’s mech, forcibly sending the rig into the buildings and launching Casper backwards with the force of the blast. He rolled in the air, having his legs go over his head, supported by the jets as they turned him rapidly until the bottom of his skis slapped against the ground again. Sparks and debris flew up into the air as his optics searched for the threat, all the while his sensors pinged Scrub. 

Casper watched as a new machine, undetected by his own system until now, flew in from the sky. It had solid wings that jutted out of its back, but before he could even observe more of the aircraft, it flew low, close to the ground before it unfolded into a mech, skidding to a halt at the city’s outskirts. 

Two study legs slammed into the asphalt of the landscape. Its arms unfurled and without saying a word or even hesitating for a moment, the two arms opened fire with a rain of flashing lasers that peppered the surrounding buildings and Casper’s mech with hits. 

The strikes were damaging, several connections and wires were burnt and fused instantly, forcing Casper to reroute connections and energy as he spun away from the gunfire and slipped into the city. Pressing his back against the building that weathered the new storm from the new threat. 

He turned his head and saw the smoking remains of Scrub, the mech that contained Qik. Her legs were missing and the torso portion was scorched all along one side. She had been through into a now collapsed building. She didn’t move.

[Qik?] He sent, dumbfounded as laserfire continued over the sound of sizzling rain.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 11

“I am not one for politics. They make my scales itch.” Bemoaned Zeet as he walked ahead of Qik and Casper. His mobile platform moved and wandered without input from him as he stood upon it, grimacing at the two larger creatures. They had just left the boardroom where Casper had potentially just signed his body away if this went wrong. 

“I would have thought we would have got more usable data from you by informing you and letting you just *work* with us.” The blue geckin continued, musing out aloud. Casper couldn’t help but grin widely, pleased by the geckin’s seemingly honest distaste for the situation. 

Zeet was an engineer. A nerd. A geek, through and through. He cared about the machines he designed and made. The plots and schemes of others mattered little to him as long as they didn’t cross his wants and desires to improve on his designs. The geckin made an odd croaking throat noise. Casper spoke up.

“Let them work themselves into an early shed then, me and you are going to make a mech that’ll go down in history.” The young man offered, hoping to caress the geckin’s ego.

Qik grinned as well as he did when he blatantly hit his mark perfectly. 

“You think?! Oh! Oh ho ho ho! Just think! First ‘no drift’ pilot in one of *my* machines making headlines. But we need you to succeed. Fame goes both ways, ah?” Zeet pointed out, before adopting a focused look, crossing his arms and touching a finger to his mouth. The two far larger creatures shared a glance as both of them felt themselves disappear to the geckin’s perspective. 

“You’ll need survivability…” Zeet mumbled to him. “Heavy is always best for survivability, but it means taking the hits. Your agility shouldn’t be slept on. Light is just as good, if you don’t get hit.” The geckin snapped his head around to Casper.

“You stopped getting hit all the time?” The tiny creature demanded.

“What do you mean ‘all the time’? She got me *once*!” Casper shot back, thrusting a thumb sideways at Qik who remained silent, although her strut became more pronounced as they discussed her ‘perfect’ kill shot.

Zeet merely grinned at Casper and he was reminded that a grin from a geckin was *not* the same as a human grinning. Zeet was admonishing the human, not sharing in a joke.

“Once was enough. If we capitalise on your speed, you will be light, but weak; you will not survive errant hits! Anything above superficial damage could disable your points or even your whole rig if it’s a bad hit!” The geckin hissed. 

“I was showboating.” Admitted Casper. “I let my guard down. My fault. I won’t jeopardise your work again.” The human spoke seriously and with respect at the older engineer who squinted at him as the walking platform approached a door that slid aside without hesitation. The geckin waved a hand, dismissing the thought, seemingly satisfied with Casper’s devoted tone.

The group entered a room that was quite obviously Zeet’s workshop. Ignoring that it looked down on a hanger bay with a skeleton of a rig hanging in the centre, as Casper looked around the room, he learnt of Zeet’s personality. Messy, but devoted.

Mech and rig designs covered an entire wall which was dominated as a workboard. Pens, stylises and measuring tools were scattered everywhere. A large 3D printer squatted in one corner and was covered in tiny, intricate models of various shapes and sizes. Some were of arms and legs of disembodied mechs, and others were tiny replicas of the whole thing.

“Huh… I think you’d get along with some of us humans.” Casper mentioned, crouching to observe the intricate details of one particular model. It was beautifully designed all the way down to sleek lines showing where the various bolts would connect armour plates together.

“After yourself, I would very much like to meet more humans. I suspect if I could get my claws into one that had a history in mech design, fictional or not, we might share ideas…” Zeet offered before clapping his hands and holding them out in front of him, pointing his claws at Casper, drawing attention to himself.

“*But!* We need to design you a machine that will put us both in the history books and… *Not* leave you at the hands of the XixTech corpo-nation.” Declared Zeet, Casper nodding along until his brain caught up to the sentence.

“Wait… ‘Corpo-Nation’?” He asked, standing up again.

“Mm, they represent the eastern continental landmass on Bok. Our homeworld. They are their government representatives.” Explained Zeet matter-of-factly. Casper merely blinked, once again reminded this was not kansas. 

“Jesus… Yeah, let's not get dropped into that mess.” The young man agreed, already feeling his head spin. Qik settled herself, leaning against a wall, arms crossed as was her usual stance. Casper sat against the window frame with his back to the hanger below.

“So!” Zeet began. “Torso, Head, Arms, Legs and a Spinal mount. These are your rig’s modifiable options.” Zeet explained, turning to open a large cabinet where he produced three glasses. One tiny, the other two perfectly sized for Casper and Qik. The human glanced at the bottle of dark liquid, then to Qik who touched a long finger against her lips. She didn’t want him to ruin this. 

Zeet poured three healthy portions before taking a sip and giving a satisfied sigh, then continuing. 

“I already know what I’m doing for your chest, you don’t get a vote there.” He explained, swiping his hand through the air. Qik cleared her throat as she leaned in to pick up a spare glass.

“What’s your idea?” She asked calmly, seemingly trusting his good sense. 

“Maximum output. Heavier as an option, more so than an ultralight, but I think the way he modifies his output, it’ll be worth it.” Zeet explained, swirling the glass.

“I modify my output? What do you mean?” Casper asked, frowning somewhat. This apparently was an odd question. 

“Wha- My boy… You… It’s not a conscious decision? To pulse your power generation?” Zeet asked, seemingly very confused. Casper pulled a face and shrugged before reaching over and picking up the third and final glass. Taking a sip, it was like paint stripper with a smokey burn afterwards.

“Your power generation is not efficient, or it shouldn’t be! Your reactors ‘pulse’ instead of giving out a steady or constant amount. We thought it was a fault at first until the second and third time it happened. Every rig you hop in, it pulses.” Zeet explained shrugging his arms in defeated confusion, nearly, but not quite spilling his drink.

“Is it dangerous?” Qik asked, narrowing her eyes, but sipping at her own glass, it looked comically small in her hands. Zeet shook his head, sipping at his drink, a tiny red tongue dabbing at the murky liquid. 

“I don’t think so, although it was far, far faster when you took that hit.” The geckin conceded, pointing a finger over the rim of his glass. 

“Was it like a heartbeat?” Asked Casper, following a hunch. Zeet shook his head again, the corners of his mouth pulling up as if Casper had asked the same question as him.

“No. We thought so too, but it was too slow.” The geckin dismissed, looking into his glass with a contemplative frown. Unconvinced, Casper waited a second, considering what it could have been before getting an idea. Without speaking, Casper knocked his knuckles against the wall he was leaning on. Thump thump. Pause. Thump thump. Pause. The reaction was immediate, the engineer's feet jumping up in unison and briefly leaving the walking platform he stood upon as he pointed and did briefly spill his drink this time. . 

“Yes! That! That’s it! Two pulses and a pause. We racked our brains trying to figure that out!”

Casper merely smiled knowingly, closing his eyes and opening them again before speaking, pleased to have an answer for the older geckin.

“That’s *my* heartbeat Zeet.” Tapping his chest with his glass. ”Bigger heart, slower rhythm.” The young man explained. The tiny geckin stood there, motionless for a time. Before closing his eyes and placing his own drink down on the table.

“Your heartbeat. *Your*! Heartbeat. Argh! Rocks in my brain! Terminal rocks!” Zeet exclaimed, causing both Casper and Qik to grin as an apparent mystery was solved for him. The poor geek looked genuinely annoyed as he glared at the ceiling.

“So it’s not an issue?” Asked Qik.

“Huh! Hardly. It means he doesn’t run hot, but has access to power when he needs it. Works well with the rest of my plans.”

“Go on, you’ve ideas, I’m listening.” Casper said, grimacing as he slugged another mouthful of the drink down. It seemed to burn less with the third gulp. 

“Chest we go for power. Your spine mount, I suggest an advanced booster. It does mean you’re more vulnerable. One hit to your back and you’ve lost your main defence; not being where they fired at.” The geckin suggested, shrugging with the admission. 

“I mean if we’re engaging at range, I can move out of the way of the rounds, right?” Casper offered, looking to Qik for confirmation. She pulled a face and shook her head, her ears flopping with the movement. 

“Two problems with that; unreliable reactions and no one uses slug rounds anymore.” She explained. Casper frowned, specifically remembering a fairly solid round tearing through his chest not less than 24 hours ago. 

“What do you mean? The geckins do?” He pointed out, rudely pointing at Zeet who could care less as he tilted his head back, finishing off his own glass. He spoke next, pulling Casper’s attention. 

“We’re an exception, not a rule. The ursidains also use solid projectiles, but only when they’re firing a heavy hitter. Energy weapons are the name of the game these days. Most see solid projectiles as ‘old’, in the sense of ‘museum piece’ old.” Zeet offered honestly. 

Casper thought that was strange, solid projectiles were reliable, but this wasn’t his world. This was a galaxy in a vastly different period of their history than Earth was. He shook his head to clear his mind. 

“Okay fine, keep mobile. What about arms and legs? What about weapons?” He pressed, almost looking forward to hearing what toys Zeet was offering. 

“Legs wise, again, I’d go for speed. Extra vents for additional jet exhausts. Rather than running, you’ll end up ‘skating’ around the enemy. Good luck keeping up with you. You’ll need it too.” Zeet offered.

“Are the enemies quick?” Casper asked. 

“Fairly. Spider-Technicals.” Qik responded. 

“What are they?”

“Heavy armour, focused laser beam for their main cannon. Prolonged targeting will thermal shock the armour that gets hit, burrowing through whatever it's shooting at. The tanks are mobile, capable of keeping line of sight on their target and climbing up and around buildings to do so. The intention is to have a small army of them and they just overwhelm any target that approaches.” The lopel explained, polishing off her own glass and gesturing with her hands, as if she were spreading a model army out in front of her.

“So keep circling them?” Casper suggested.

“And they’ll have to track you. We keep you light and mobile, they focus on you…” Qik went on, trailing off to allow Casper to finish the thought. 

“...And you take them out while their back is turned.” The young man concluded, nodding at the idea. He could be bait, he didn’t even have to fight. Just wave his arms in the air and keep their attention. 

“He’s a fast learner.” Zeet pointed out, nodding to Casper but looking to Qik. She merely grinned and returned to her ‘arms crossed’ posture, smugness radiating off her.

“Thanks to his teacher.” 

Zeet was less than sure. 

“Mm. Sure.” He blinked slowly and turned his head back to the huma before opening them again. “Arms wise, we have options.“

“I did consider a plasma thrower, but it's heavy and drains a lot of power during charge up. Good against another mech, less so for tanks. We have similar options like sniper beams, but same thing. Line of sight and you’d need to be still.”

“So what would you suggest?”

“If we are going with this plan, we should actually keep you lightly armed. How do you feel about a solid sword?”

“Solid? But what about my lightsaber!”

“No, too draining. If we’re keeping you as fast as we intend, we need you using 100% of your reactor’s output. A solid sword, atomised edge, you’ll still be dangerous. Lightweight metal, no drain on your resources, there's no downsides besides no range. But that's not an issue this time.”

“Atomised edge?” Casper asked, just checking for clarification. Zeet nodded and hastened to explain before moving on. 

“An edge a few atoms thick. Blunts faster, but realistically, this is a blitz, you’re not going to be out there long enough to need to worry about that.”

“What could I cut through?”

“Anything with enough force behind your swing. Do *not* touch the edge with any part of yourself.” The geckin demanded with a serious tone and an accusing finger. Casper held his hands up in mock surrender. 

“Yes sir.”

Zeet merely nodded. Qik remained quietly thinking as she scratched her own chin.

“So, speed, speed, speed?” Casper summarised.

“Quite so. Qik, I trust you will just select your weapons as normal?” Zeet asked, turning to the lopel as he sat himself in a chair. The merc merely nodded and lay her palm up as if presenting her idea.

“I’m going for a swarm missile rig. If it’s just technicals, I don’t need anything else.” She explained with a carless shrug. 

“Swarm missile?” Casper prodded. 

“Line of sight lock on, you fire the swarm and they fire up into the air before raining down on the tanks. Doesn’t matter if they’re crawling on or around buildings. They’ll punch through their armour. The downside is I need to see them to lock on, which sucks when LOS works both ways.” Qik went on, but then leaned forward to emphasize her words. . 

“Buuut…” She drawled. 

“But if they’re looking at me, that doesn’t matter.” Casper replied, grinning back at the lopel. She held his gaze a moment longer than needed before straightening and giving him her approval. 

“Attaboy.”

Casper considered his options, and turned back to Zeet. 

“So a sword? Nothing else?” He asked. 

Zeet, his hands on his head, turned the chair to face the larger human. 

“Did you have something else in mind?”

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 10

“Ah! Casper my boy!” Exclaimed Zeet. It was the older engineer geckin who had been supporting the young man's progress as a brand new mech pilot. The blue geckin had been the one in the first instance to suggest to the young man that he give piloting a try and so far had been a stalwart ally and straight shooting voice of reason for Casper.

Despite the engineer’s enthusiasm, Zeet had never led Casper astray, nor had any of his machines failed the young man. The human felt he could trust this geckin, as far as his equipment went at the very least. 

“Good morning Zeet, I understand it's the moment of truth?” Replied Casper, calmer than he expected. Qik stepped into the room not a single step behind the human and marched over to the correctly sized chairs. She pulled out the centre one and sat directly in front of the High Commander, the black and purple geckin in charge of the geckin people’s military actions.

She would be the one in control of the upcoming operation.  

This was when Casper noticed that there was a small crowd of geckins already sitting on the other side of the broad table that dominated the room. With only two chairs on ‘his’ side, it was quite obvious where he was meant to sit. Casper couldn’t help but squint and narrow his eyes at the people arrayed in front of him. Wasn’t it a bit heavy handed? Zeet, Wren, the High Commander and a slew of other geckins that the man had yet to have met, at least as far as he was aware of. Were they all needed to brief the pair of mercenaries?

Zeet seemed undeterred. 

“Indeed! The moment of truth! Oh, I can’t w-” Although the older alien couldn’t finish his sentence as a curt, sharp voice cut him off and he went silent instantly.

“Enough Zeet. Casper, why not sit with your… colleague?” Suggested the High Commander, not in the slightest giving him another option. Her tone was mocking, but he had no doubt she held little regard to either Qik or the pair of them.

Casper didn’t say anything, and instead calmly walked over to sit and join Qik at the table. She was perfectly still and a perfect picture of cold, calm and calculating. Casper kept his silence, and waited for someone else to speak.There was a pregnant moment of silence. 

The High Commander was the first to break the pause and spoke in a haughty tone.

“As per your contract Qik, we have need to run an op on the same planet as before.” She explained, blinking slowly and looking down her short snout at the lopeljack mercenary. Qik was unphased. 

“What’s the gig?” She asked without missing a beat.

“They’re amassing a sizable mechanised force in the former cities. Orbital operations are still at a stand still, neither of us want to have to report the loss of a ship.” The Commander explained, waving a hand dismissing the orbital fleets as if it were a non-issue. 

“So you want us to cut them down?” Qik asked, fishing for details.

“Exactly.” The purple and black geckin replied without assisting. Her eyes blinking slowly again, she kept them focused on Qik, pointedly ignoring Casper. He made no attempt to insert himself, he trusted Qik implicitly. The lopel stared the geckin down for a moment before breaking her gaze and shrugging, leaning back into her chair.

“Seems straight forward, I would have thought you would have used us in something more valuable.” She mused aloud, interlocking her fingers and gazing lazily at the geckin. Casper’s eyes narrowed a fraction just as he noticed the scale below her right eye twitch. A tell?

“I am a geckin of my word. This is the first combat operation we need to deploy against. The choice is our own mechanised force, which is a cost and a risk, or we rid ourselves of the two drains upon our resources.” The aloof geckin explained, again, waving her hand in the air without her elbows leaving them table. 

“Drains?” Casper asked, unable to bite his tongue in time. The geckin finally turned her attention to the human. 

“With your contracts complete you will have no need to stay and we can invest in professionals that mind their business.” Replied the commander, obviously peeved at the pair of them. 

The geckin turned her attention back to Qik, despite only being a foot tall, Casper was near certain he saw the mental image of a tank turret, slowly traversing as the High Commander turned and stared at Qik. 

The lopel merely stared back. 

“Make no mistake, we are not pleased with your interference with Casper and his training.” She explained curtly. Qik shrugged and pulled a uncaring face. 

“I trained him how I would train any pilot, just as you’ve asked me to do for the last hundred you sent my way. He’s no different.” She defended calmly. Casper had no idea if that was true. Did she use all her trainees as body pillows? 

He kept this thought to himself.

“And yet he’s the first to demand his own contract?” The High Commander demanded.

“Ask him yourself.” Qik offered, gesturing at Casper to her left. The young man tried not to have a heart attack. 

“Well?” The High Commander inquired, staring a hole through the centre of Casper’s forehead. Casper swallowed and gathered his thoughts, not sure if he was ready to be put on the spot already. But the man had, had plenty of time to think and consider the matter. Clearing his throat, he offered his explanation, as honestly as he could. 

“I’m not geckin ma’am. I would assume your pilots are quite loyal to your people?” He asked slowly. 

“Every one of them.” She replied without hesitation. 

“I am grateful for your help, but I’m not geckin. There was no plan for me to stay long term. You got me dropped into your lap. This was just an accident, you couldn’t have expected me to stay?” Casper asked, trying to appeal to her common sense. A human to babysit wasn’t exactly a boon to anyone, let alone a government or private organisation that would apparently need to prove he was happy on a regular basis?

Casper wasn’t expecting the cold, sharp, humourless grin to spread across her face. 

“Hmph, quite the contrary. We fought for a sizable number of humans to be provided to the geckin territories.” She explained, almost off handedly. It hadn’t been what Casper had expected her to say in slightest. He frowned, outright confused. 

“What, why? You don’t know us.” He demanded. 

“Politics, as with everything.” She offered, waving her hand as she did. 

“So not the kindness of your heart then?”

That got a snort of derision from the small creature. She leant forward and interlaced her fingers, resting her snout beneath her fingers while staring Casper directly in the eye as she spoke next. 

Her words were low and intense. She believed every word she uttered with every fibre of her being. Casper was certain of that. 

“You are not an idiot so don’t be naive. No. The geckin people are under attack by the cowardly ssypno and their gluttonous nobility. All the while, their queen sits idly while our freedom is crushed within their coils.” The High Commander explained, baring her teeth as she spoke.

“Our very existance is up for debate amongst the high tri-table and we will not merely sit by while the next hunt begins.” She pulled her arms apart, one hand slapping against the table while the other pointed at Casper to emphasise her point. 

“Demanding our fair share to the human population that was being divided amongst the other races was a method of establishing our legitimacy to be sat at the table, as frustrating as it is to have to resort to such methods.” She explained, waving awake the unpleasant concept as if it bothered her like a fly.

Casper blinked, turning over this information in his head.

“Humans were… divided up amongst the other races?” He asked. 

“Yes. Humans have captured the hearts and minds of every race across the stars. The general populace of every sentient race demand we ‘save’ you.” The geckin snorted. “I will be blunt as there is no harm in being honest at this point.”

She paused, but Casper gave her every ounce of his attention. This was not knowledge that was available to him. He needed to hear this. The High Commander locked eyes with the human and spoke with conviction. 

“I do not care if your people die. But while you’re alive, you are the perfect tool for my people. A shield to aggression. No ssypno force, noble or royal, would *dare* attack a base, city or maybe even planet if there was a single human present.” The High Commander revealed, shocking Casper to his core. He felt his lips part, as if to retort, but no words came out. 

“You’re the perfect shield.” She pointed out as if the sky was blue and water was wet. 

Casper turned this concept over in his head as he considered this from every angle. He was staring at the wood grain of the table, but wasn’t seeing it. 

Until he made the connection, and looked back up at her. 

“But now I want off the planet.” He pointed out. 

“So we will lose control of you and lose your protection.” She finished. Almost smug in that Casper had to have had this information explained. She was not talking as if she was in a poor position. Why? What was giving her this confidence? 

“Why do I feel you have another card up your sleeve?” He asked. 

“An odd saying, but yes, my tail has yet to fall off.” She retorted. She paused, and allowed Casper a time to stay there, in his ignorance. Qik also said nothing, but was still avidly watching her. The lopel eyes intense and serious. 

Eventually, the geckin spoke again. 

“I wonder… How will the many bleeding hearts of the galaxy feel ‘if’ or rather, ‘when’, the ssypno forces fire on a human?” The geckin tilted her head.  “We will record and present every moment of your operation. Success or failure, we remove at least some of their forces from the board and weaken the ssypno’s desire to fight.”

The wicked grin returned as the High Commander leaned forward, pressing her fingertips and claws into the table, leaving curled wood at the end of new grooves in the priceless wood. 

“The ssypno people will see their nobility attacking their precious humans and revolt. That… is the value you hold.” The High Commander concluded, grinning and licking her absent lips. 

Casper had no retort, nothing he could say. He would be used regardless of his actions. Qik however, didn’t care. A job was a job and the sooner she and the human completed it, the sooner they could get to the other side the spiral. 

“Fascinating as it is, can we finalise the contracts?” Qik asked disinterestedly, suspending her hand in the air as if offering a solution. The High Commander affixed a ‘smile’ across her features while the rest of the geckins remained perfectly impassive. Casper didn’t like it immediately and the hairs on the back of his neck all slowly raised on end. 

The only exception to this and seemingly oblivious to the ongoing power players, was Zeet who immediately piped up and began to present his PDA, turning it briefly.

“Oh! Yes! I have some marvellous plans for you to-”

“Zeet. Shut.” The High Commander demanded. Zeet paused immediately, returning to his chair and hiding the screen from view. Qik narrowed her eyes, glancing from Zeet, back to the High Commander.

“Something you’re not telling us?” She asked, obviously sensing the same issue Casper was. The High Commander acted surprised and grinned again. 

“Oh no. You will deploy as you have done in the past with your equipment.” She offered. Qik outright frowned and her voice dropped an octave. 

“...What of Casper’s rig?” She demanded, deadly serious. 

“Casper doesn’t own a rig.” The High Commander offered, seemingly confused as to why Qik would ask. . 

“How do you expect him to fight?” The lopel asked, audibly speaking through clenched teeth.

“I suppose we could…  supply a firearm, for free.” The purple and black striped geckin offered pleasantly, as if that was reasonable or acceptable. 

Qik was on her feet in an instant, hands on the table, looming over the geckins as best she could.

“This will be a breach of contract, under the ‘unreasonable’ clauses!” She announced, pointing down at the table and punctuating her words. Casper merely sat back and let her work. The geckin merely shrugged, unphased by the lopel’s display. 

“We would contest any claim, but we… being reasonable, are willing to offer an amendment to Casper’s contract.” The High Commander offered, leaning back and spreading her hands and arms out, as if a benevolent trader.

The room went still and the temperature dropped. 

“What kind?” Qik asked in a calm, steady voice. Too calm. Too steady. She was on edge.

“We will provide a mech of high quality, free of charge until the completion of the operation and contract.” The geckin offered calmly. Everyone waited for the other shoe to drop. 

“What for?” Casper asked. Qik glanced in his direction, but otherwise kept her eyes on the geckin, who was now pointedly ignoring the lopel.

“Hmmm, you’re certainly not a simple feral creature like some suggest. There will be a clause that is in our favour.” She admitted. 

“What is it?” He asked. The High Commander leaned back and glanced to her left, Casper and Qik’s right. To Wren. The biologist who had been caring for Casper since the beginning. She hadn’t done a great job, but the young man couldn’t fault her attempts to ensure he was okay.

Wren spoke calmly in a practised manner. She seemed to recite her words from memory, rather than form them on the fly.

“In the event of the need to eject the pilot casket, the operation is declared over and the loaned mech and all its contents and components are the property of the XixTech organisation.” The green geckin concluded before sitting back down and going silent. She too, adopted a haughty expression, lifting her muzzle slightly and staring Casper down somewhat. 

It honestly didn’t seem like much of an issue. It wasn’t his mech, he’d get his own rig later. Casper breathed in to dismiss and accept the terms, he had no want to take their property, but stopped when Qik’s hand grabbed his thigh. 

He glanced over to her as she spoke without breaking eye contact with the High Commander.

“All components?” The lopel demanded.

“Quite.” A nod. 

“No deal.”

Casper blinked, turning to Qik. 

“What? I can’t fight on foot! I need that rig.” He demanded, thinking about fighting tanks on foot with a single rifle! Qik or no, he’d more likely fall and blow his own head off than destroy a damned tank!

Qik’s expression when she turned to him gave him pause however. Without waiting, she spoke and explained in a slow, clam voice. Devoid of emotion. 

“Casper, the pilot in the casket, is included in this.” 

Wait.

“If you need to eject, then XixTech will, literally, own you.” Qik concluded. 

Wren cleared her through before speaking as everyone turned to her. 

“More specifically, as their representative; I will own you.”

Casper frowned, seeing the green doctor in a new light. 

“Why?” He asked, confused as to why she’d go this route. If she had asked for anything, he’d likely have just given it to her. She needn’t of gone this way. 

“Ignoring that I don’t need to answer that, we can learn more from you.” She began, coolly. “From your connection to the machine to how you handle the load. I hasten to add, it need not be a bad life, you could work *with* me in researching this.”

Casper said nothing, she continued.

“Or I could put your brain in a jar and ask you questions where you are devoid of distractions like light or sound. I would reward cooperation with stimulation. Otherwise it would be a perfect void for you.”

The green geckin shrugged. 

“Either way works for me.”

The lopel stood and swiped her hand through the air, dismissing the whole geckin side. 

“No deal. My company is on their way, they will have several things to say about this coercion.” She warned before turning and breathing in to speak with Casper, but was cut off by the High Commander.

“So be it, but you’re not being asked here.” The purple and black geckin turned to the human and pointedly asked; “Casper? Your choice. Freedom, with the chance of failure, or stay here as our permanent resident. We will offer you opportunities to pilot mechs, albeit under our direct control.”

The High Commander turned back to the lopal, although still spoke to Casper. 

“We have learnt from our mistakes with our dear Qik here.”

Qik raised her hand, her fingers splayed and brought her palm down in a vertical swipe, holding it in place as if to highlight her words. 

“Casper, don’t. There's another way.”

The young man doubted it. The geckins were too sure, the contracts seemed too tight. 

“Is there?” He asked. 

“The company has lawyers, these idiots aren’t the first to try and strong arm a deal.” She offered. The geckin High Commander retorted again, with an almost gleeful tone.

“No, but we are the first with a human. We checked, your laws are fantastically logical and detailed. It even lists the species… unfortunate ‘human’ is not included.” The finished with a sharp grin.

“They’ve got us cornered.” Casper pointed out.

“No, theres another way.” Qik said, her eyes almost frantic as she mentally searched for an out, finding none. 

“Qik.”

“No, just… give me a sec.”

“Qik do you trust in your training?” Casper asked quietly. 

“What?” The lopel asked, glancing up at him. He was still sat in his chair as she stood over him. Her fur was beautiful and shiny. He didn’t want to cause her distress, but there wasnt a way out here.

“Do you trust in what you’ve taught me? Could I survive in a fight?” He asked pointedly. 

Qik said nothing, searching his face for something. He smiled and shook his head.

“I’m not trying to trick you. Just honesty.” He pressed. 

She grimaced and wore a tight smile. 

“I’ve taught you all I can. Everything else comes from experience.” She explained, her shoulders sagging. 

“Like fighting technicals?” He suggested. Qik frowned, then turned to the gathered board of geckins. 

“If… Is it just technicals? By requirements, you need to tell me your intel now.”

One of the side geckins spoke, reviewing a datapad. 

“Only scuttle tanks and stationary emplacements. We need those emplacements destroyed, but we do offer bonuses for every additional unit destroyed. The bigger the better.” He offered. His lighter tone a stark difference to the hard tones of the others. 

“No enemy pilots?” Qik checked. 

“The ssypno are still scrambling after you took out the former ace.” The High Commander offered. Qik turned back to Casper and sighed. 

“I think… You got a good chance.”

Casper merely nodded then turned in his seat to directly address the High Commander.

“I’ll accept the contract if you give me a fighting chance. Give me a good mech and I’ll agree.”

“Deal.”

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 9

Casper’s sleep was deep and curative. Morning throughout the several weeks he had spent training with Qik and the geckins had been moments of him snapping awake, aware and scared. 

His breath would catch and the young man would be *certain* that there was *something* inches away from him, merely reaching out to his vulnerable form. 

This would repeat throughout the night, breaking up his sleep schedule until he really felt as if he was only getting the bare minimum most days despite falling into his bed almost as soon as he had gotten home. 

This morning however, his eyes opened slowly. 

Without the spike of fear that he was in danger, Casper was unsure if he was dreaming or not. He took stock of his surroundings and slowly tried to understand what was different today. He could see the mattress up close, the near perfect weave of the material being soft against his face and under his fingertips. 

Blinking, he noticed his hand, which twitched in realisation that it was connect to thim. 

At his twitch however, the large brown furred hand that was placed over it gently curled its own fingers around his, pressing between the spaces of his own digits. He lay there for a time, merely looking and watching without thought or opinion. 

It was nice… The tiny action, so small that an observer would be hard pressed to say it had happened at all, filled his chest with something warm. Like a wooly scarf had been wrapped around him, wrapped around his heart. 

There was a moment however, when he wondered where this hand had come from, so asleep his mind still was. 

The arm the larger hand was connected to, disappeared out of his sight and somewhere behind him. When he tried to move however, that was when he discovered the weight on top of him. 

It wasn’t ‘heavy’, that was the wrong word. 

The pressure on top of him was reassuring. It belonged there. He felt secure in its ‘solidness’, its security. The pressure was mostly across his back and shoulders. But he felt thick, silky furry limbs intertwined with his own. Finally, that was when he noticed the whiskers that were protruding into his sight from above. The hairs were fine and very thin, so he had missed them during his still sleepy state. That was the moment he felt her head, resting on his from above, using his own head as a pillow, tucked beneath her chin.

Casper could feel that one of her long ears, that normally trailed down the back of her head and rested over her shoulders, had now fallen across his face. It’s fur even more delicate than the rest of what covered body and the exposed flesh of the inside of her ear was soft and warm, almost hot to his skin.

Her breath was steady, even and deep. With each inhale, he felt a broad chest slowly inflate across his back, gently pushing him into the mattress, before the mouth that laid over his ear, exhaled softly, the warm wind washing over his face beneath the blanket. 

She was still fast asleep. Casper, still half asleep, relaxed. There was no threat, there was no danger. He was safe in Qik’s arms. 

He closed his eyes and sighed, his own lungs taking in the warm air that smelt like her. Of wet forests and damp moss. His movement was enough to move her however. 

She didn’t wake or stir, but instead her legs tightened, curling his body into her, while her that held his hand drew closer to the pair of the sleeping bodies. In this moment, neither mind could have said where either body began or where the other ended. 

Casper closed his eyes, and in the early hours of the morning, fell back asleep. 

He rested.

His body and mind recovered in a way that hadn’t been possible, since he had slept in a human made bed on a human owned planet, billions of miles away from where he was now. Qik, on the other hand, slept like a baby. She couldn’t sleep without a pillow to hold and had found her alternate option had been a perfect replacement. 

Several hours later, when the system’s star had climbed high into the sky of the planet, the pair remained, entwined together.

Until a communicator gave a unique trill that made Qik’s ears twitch.

The pair of them ‘awoke’ in the traditional sense at the sound of the device, but only Qik disconnected, twisting her torso in a way that would have Casper straining and groaning to copy. Her hand apparently retrieved the device from the side table that crouched at the side of the oversized bed and reviewed the screen, above Casper’s head and out of sight. 

“Mm.. Fair enough.” Qik murmured, more to herself than to Casper. 

“What’s up?” The human asked, laying still, not sure how to address the fact that his teacher for the better part of two months was currently spooning him, and had done so for the whole night. 

“Got a message from my company. They’re on their way back to pick me up.” She explained dismissively, twitching her arm and the device locking sound immediately played. “We should get up, get some breakfast.” She then advised, changing the subject.

“I’m not hungry to be honest.” Casper replied, still remaining there and being truthful. He felt fine. Better than fine in fact, better than he had in a long time. The lopel didn’t reply straight away, and instead she released him so she could begin a bone cracking stretch that had her entire body quaking at the apex. She let out a high pitched squeak and sighed. 

“Well that’s too bad. You’re eating or I will think up a punishment.” She pointed out callously before rolling away and stranding up from the bed in a single smooth movement. She hadn’t even hesitated to reply, meaning that she was either serious, or had expected him to say that. Casper rolled onto his back and into the depression left in the mattress by the lopeljack. He could feel the material slowly rising back into position, despite his whole body weight and considered their differences. 

He watched the lopel as she strutted over to the kitchenette, on the other side of his quarters. She held her arms across herself, stretching as she moved. 

Despite being closer to his size than any of the other races he’d interacted with, the lopel was still a good three or four feet taller. She wasn’t as muscular as say a canid, nor nowhere closer to as big as an ursidain, but her toned and fit body showed evidence of a creature that was healthy and into their fitness. 

What drew his eye was her hips. 

Casper hadn’t interacted with many lopeljacks, in fact his total was one, so he had no frame of reference if the wide hips was normal for one of her kind. Whilst her whole body was toned, she could flex her arm and muscles would bulge from beneath her fur, it was her legs that were a sight to behold. 

They looked like a mix between a cyclist’s, a runner’s and a weight lifter’s. She was in a perfect proportion, but in Casper’s unguarded state, his mind offered the idea that she could quite easily crush a watermelon between her thighs without much effort. 

He blinked suddenly as the melon was replaced with his own head, then stamped down on the thought before it got anywhere. 

His eyes then, almost guilty, paid attention to what the rump with it’s white fluffy tail and the body it was connected to, was doing, rather than ogle it. 

“Aw come on, anything but-” The young man moaned openly, closing his eyes and letting his head sag in the beginnings of a tantrum. 

“Shut it.” She ordered without hesitation. “You are eating it.” Qik cut in, as she poured more of the nutrient slurry into a bowl and began to return. She had two bowls, one in each hand. 

“For god’s sake; *why*!?” The young man demanded, more as a petulant child than a full grown adult, unwilling to take his medicine. Qik merely rose an eyebrow and sat on the bed as Casper folded his legs in.

“Because it’ll make you feel better.” The lopel explained, pressing one of the bowls into his hands. The whitish, pinkish, mush looked just as unappitising as before with a plain spoon sat in it.

“I feel better already! Better than I have in weeks.” Casper explained, looking up, really not having the appetite to go through with this. He didn’t need to eat right now, he just had to convince her. 

Qik, however, was having none of it. Hey tone was dry, despite dripping in sarcasm. 

“Wow… I wonder why? Could it be… You ate a whole portion? Like a normal person and got a shower?” She asked, stumping Casper.

“I…”

“You feel better because you aren’t starving. You did some bare minimum self care. If you don’t keep it up, you’ll feel like shit again.” She explained, nearly ticking each point off with her spare hand. 

“Now. Either you look after yourself, or have someone look after you. I’ve seen enough husk pilots and the galaxy doesn’t need another.” She concluded, spooning some of the mush into her own mouth from her own bowl and swallowing it without complaint. 

“‘Husk pilots’? The hell is a ‘husk pilot’?” Asked the young man, his curiosity peaked once more. If he was going to be a ‘merc’ he’d need to know the terms and this was the first he’d heard of this. 

“Eat that and I’ll explain. Deal?” Offered the lopel, gesturing to his untouched bowl with her spoon. Her eyebrow was still squirked, but now she wore a smirk. 

She had him. He knew it. She knew it.

“I hate you.”

“Mm, you and everybody I’ve ever gone up against. Eat.” She agreed and ordered, completely unphased as she heaped another load of the slop into her mouth. Out of options, he obeyed.

She took a moment before she spoke around another mouthful.

“Okay. So ‘husk pilot’ is just a term for someone who’s a career pilot and nothing else.” She began, looking at the ceiling as she spoke, recalling the information. 

“And I mean ‘and nothing else’. They’re good at what they do, real good, at the cost of everything else, they don’t *do* anything else..” She explained, swiping her spoon through the air, emphasising her words. 

“How do you mean?” Casper asked as he swallowed, lowering the bowl after bringing it up to his face to eat. Qik made a ‘mm’ noise, pointing at him with her spoon before swallowing and continuing. 

“Wipe your chin. So, they’re low drifters and are essentially addicted to piloting because they feel stronger or more powerful inside their rigs.” Casper used his wrist to wipe the drop of the slurry from his chin before pulling a face of agreement and nodding.

“I have to admit, it does feel… different in the rig. I feel… Better.” He admitted, the feeling of being inside a thirty foot hunk of hardware was unlikely anything he’d felt before.

“Mm, I suspect you or at least your people will be more susceptible to it. Any extended or hard campaigns, where you wont get breaks like the one we have now? You’ll be exposed to those effects by necessity.” The lopel said with a grave and serious tone. Nodding sagely as she tilted her bowl, the dregs of her meal pooling at the bottom.

“So what’s the deal?” Casper said, tilting the bowl up to his lips, consuming the last of his breakfast. 

“Ignoring their greater skill, the effect is in their body and minds. The body wastes away, they don’t use their muscles in the day and by the time they’re out of the mechs, maybe after three or four days of continuous fighting? Their bodies atrophy.” Qik explained, with a sad expression on her features. Casper suspected she had known a husk pilot before. The human’s face contorted though as he considered her words. 

“Days? What about food? Waste?” He asked, aware that one of the first things he did after piloting the training mechs was to go sit on the toilet. 

“Military or deployment caskets aren’t the same as our training ones. Same deal, but that mask they put on you? That can be a feeding tube. Likewise, the Nerve-Suits can be upgraded to handle waste and act as stillsuits.” She explained happily, as if discussing the weather. Casper grimaced. 

“Grim.” 

“Yeah, but that’s what the fighting is about. Who blinks first. The longer a pilot can be deployed, the more attrition they can pressure the other side with. Either the pilots complete the task instantly within the same day as being deployed, or they’re in it for the long haul, at least that’s my experience.” Qik tongued the back of her spoon, finishing off her own bowl.

“So… if I became a ‘husk’? What does that mean for me?” Casper asked, still curious. 

“You’d be weak. Very weak. Like ‘wheelchair usage’ weak. You’d need a more specialised food slurry and it would be pumped into you like that first time. You remember your little hospital stint way back when?” She asked with a sharp grin, the young man wasn’t certain if she was still sore about that. 

“Not something I’d want a repeat of.” He admitted truthfully. 

“I doubted as much, I’ve had to have food by nose tube before. I hate it. Anyway, more reason to not push it too far. *And*! Thanks to the wording of our joint contracts, the geckins can’t make you do a long stint.” She explained excitedly, changing the subject rather smoothly.

“We got what’s called ‘blitz’ contracts. Either the operation is do-able in a single op, or it's not a valid operation to fulfil the contract and we get half pay with the contract marked as ‘complete’.”

This caused Casper to pause. The way she spoke was as if the geckins would try something ‘cloak and dagger’ style. 

“Do you really think the geckins would be that underhanded?” Casper asked, defending them somewhat. He’d upset them, sure, by demanding he be free to leave at his pleasure, but hardly enough for them to sign him up to an operation he couldn’t do. Right?

Qik disagreed immediately. 

“Yes. Without doubt or question.” She said sternly, more so than he had heard before.

“Really?” The young man asked, not quite believing her intensity. She took a moment to gently place the now empty bowl on the bed beside her before leaning forwards, capturing his entire attention. 

“Casper… You represent something that is going to give them an edge. Not ‘could’, you ‘will do’. Already; they’ve got a ton of data that’s helping them.” She explained with a knowing tone. The young man wasn’t sure he could pick out when Qik was lying, but she’d yet to do so if he recalled. She had only wanted what was best for him, yet now she was speaking as if she knew more than she was letting on. 

Casper squinted. 

“How do you know?” He asked. The lopel paused before shrugging and giving a lopsided smile. 

“I get bored easily.” She explained cryptically. Casper thought about that for a moment, trying to make it make sense, until all he could say was…

“Huh?”

Qik grinned, picking up her bowl and taking his from his hands and bounded away. Once more, Casper’s eyes were drawn to her rear and was reminded that once more; she was stark naked. It wasn’t the same as if she were human. He couldn’t see any major characteristics, the fur that covered her, made it so to call her ‘naked’ felt… incorrect. 

His train of thoughts were derailed again as she spoke, returning to the bed. 

“I broke into their offices and read their reports.” She explained with a mischievous air and a shrug. “I can’t help it, it’s a habit. My company stopped locking the doors after a while, took the fun out of it and I stopped reading their mail.”

“But what-” Casper started, but then Qik shook her hands, shushing him as she got back on track.

“Oh yeah, look, the geckins aren’t your friends.” She pointed out, throwing herself onto the bed.  

“They aren’t happy they’re losing you and are going to do their best to keep you around. It’s not their government, so to speak, but more private organisations that want you. Deniable plausibility in my opinion, so they can’t be accused by the GC of anything shady, but these aren’t creatures you can let your guard down around. They’re logical.” She stated with a factual tone.

“That means…” Casper asked, drawing out the word to lead her to continue. The lopel pulled a face at the ceiling then continued.

“Let me put it this way. If they thought putting you on a slab would help them win the war with the ssypno, they’d have you there by the day’s end.”

Casper blinked.

“They’re at war with the ssypno?” He asked incredulously. 

“Hah, that’s actually the most straightforward part of all this.”Qik replied with a smile, turning to rest her head on her hand, laying across Casper’s bed like an artist’s model. 

“I didn’t even know.” He mumbled.

“Open secret. It’s not a ‘war’, it's ‘expansion skirmishes’. Basically some noble, years and years ago, found the geckins and tried to put them under the thumb. Geckins fought back, established themselves as independent, now the ssypno are trying to surround geckin systems with their own and the geckins are giving them a run for the money. For me and you? It's just a constant money stream.” She added with a shrug. 

The pair were silent for a moment before the lopel sat up again and touched a hand to the lump in the covers that was Casper’s foot.

“Look, long story short? Don’t trust anyone but yourself and secondly, your company. Don’t let the geckins trick you or force you into a corner. It won't be pretty. And finally? You’ll need to be ready to fight, sooner rather than later.” She said with a tone that was as dangerous as a loaded gun with the hammer cocked back.

Even Casper didn’t miss the barely hidden warning.

“Wait… Why? Why did you say it like that?”

The lopel raised her communicator. 

“I got the message when we woke up. Fight’s back on. We’re to be deployed.”

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 8

Casper knew there was something wrong straight away, albeit he didn't know what exactly had just happened. He had felt a flare of pain and suddenly his entire chest felt heavy, it didn't feel right. That alone was enough to set his mind racing.

His mind, supported by the software, warned him of the horrific damaged caused by the over-penetrating strike. There was shock, his brain dumped as many chemicals as it thought would help immediately into his own system, but the software listed his problems very neatly, allowing him to prioritise.

His optics clicked as he struggled, it was as if someone had strapped a thick, unyielding, belt across and around his torso, before heaving it as tight as they could possibly make it. His arm lowered, still holding the sword aloft in his victory pose, it's spout of intense heat dying and going out. His hand, still grasping the hilt, touched at his chest, he was still intact, he could see the metal, it's paint was scratched and marred, but he wasn't destroyed.

He wanted to sigh in relief, to breathe, to take in a steadying breath and clear this tightness.

Casper did what he had always done, and breathed deep, only for the vents across his chest, to remain closed. They twitched and sparked, but unlike every time before, where they had opened and flooded his heart with the rich oxygen of the training fields, this time they stayed closed. If Casper's face could contort, show worry, or perhaps fear, it would have. Instead, his optics clicked and whirred, the camera apertures dilating in panic.

He stumbled forward and tried again. 'Steady. Breathe in through the nose.'

The giant pair of intake turbines that sat within his chest, sputtered, and sparked. The connection to the main unit meant they received the order to spin up, to feed the furnace that was sat at the centre of his chest, but they couldn't comply. One of the turbines was outright gone. The majority of it was now scattered in a straight line leading away from the rig, following the path of the super dense round.

The other turbine tried it's best and the blades began to move, but they were sluggish. The metal blades caught and screeched as they scratched debris into the housing of the intake. The devastation of the round hadn't just destroyed internal systems, it had peppered the untouched areas with super-heated fragments that melted and burn holes in a sea of critical parts.

Qik's shot was perfectly landed, exactly right, to cause the whole machine to shutdown safely and eject the pilot. A kill shot. The average machine would be completely disabled. The machine that had just taken her shot, weeks before, was a mere object. It was inert as a rock, simply complicated in makeup. It too, would have fallen over with any other pilot.

But the spirit that drove this thing, that worked as the masterful conductor that led the collection of lifeless parts into movement and action had willed his mind and personality into all things. The amps in the wires pulsed like a heartbeat. The ones and zeros that may have made up the many layers of software may have begun as cold, unfeeling systems, now in fact; *desired* to work as intended. Emotion drove this machine as much as logic did.

The batteries sprung awake, switching from charging to output; the reactor was without O2! 'Turbines! To life!' They screamed.

Turbine Two was KIA and remained silent. The machine would mourn its loss later.

Turbine One was severely wounded, but it's fans could move. It could do its job. The turbine added as much torque to its fans as it could to push past the debris and get the airflow back!

The batteries, working in tandem, broke protocol and devoted more power than normal to the last remaining lifeline. The computerised systems, guided by the pilot's will to live, instantly stepped in and disconnected all the hard locked safety features, overclocking its systems beyond any recommended redline. Dying was not merely turning off, it was the great oblivion. The machine had no desire to turn to off for the final time. It wasn't ready to go yet.

Geckin engineers would be baffled later reading the reports. This machine should have seen the danger in still going and ejected the pilot to safety; away from the potential explosion of a reactor that was online, but without oxygen. But unbeknownst to them, the software was faced with a millennia of survival instincts of the pilot's layered mind. A thousand computer specialists, backed by an army of wet work AIs; couldn't have resisted the sheer force of will from Casper as his mind, dropping into survival instincts and, the lizard, the mammal, and the ape, all demanding his body to live.

His body was the machine, the machine would comply. It *would* live.

Turbine One's fan blades completed a rotation, then a second, and a third before it's RPM began to sore once more! One fan blade was sparking as it caught the casing, but it didn't matter; the 02 intake was climbing!

The vents across the mech's chest slapped open and the exhausts at the back belched an unhealthy-looking plume of black smoke. Casper had power, one lung was collapsed, but he could breathe. He could fight. He turned to the threat he felt like heat across the side of his face. His sensor suite was untouched and knew the exact point of danger.

Qik rose her rig's 'head' up to observe the human's rig stumble forward after taking the hit, just like he was supposed to. But then he straightened, black smoke rising from him, and looked her way. He wasn't supposed to do that. Qik's rig ducked its head and lined up another shot. She'd taken out hundreds of geckin pilots with that exact same shot, the pilot's will to go on didn't matter; the mech should have deactivated and ejected him away. This was the final lesson, this was supposed to be routine.

'Tough bastard.' But Qik kept that thought to herself.

Casper wasn't even thinking at this point, all he could see was red. He was hurt! Injured! There was danger! Run! Fight! Hide! Run! Fight! Hide!

The optics instantly clicked, focusing, and seeing the former ally crouched in the mouth of the hangers, with a giant weapon pointed his way. Red targeting highlights marked her.

Unbidden, the software told his animalistic mind that Qik was pointing a Maestrik 120mm/L61 cannon his way. Despite never seeing this weapon before, Casper knew it was unwieldy, unsuitable for active warzones, with the exception of fortified positions and overwatch operations. She had advantage, side to side movement wouldn't help. It was fully capable of destroying him with a single round, regardless of the ammunition loaded. There was no hiding, not even going to ground could protect him from what was pointed at him. There was no retreat. There was no hiding.

All this information was instantly provided and understood by the three layers of the human's brain before the lopeljack could prepare the next shot.

"Fight!" The Ape, The Mammal and The Lizard, all screamed in unison. The machine obeyed.

His mech launched forwards at the threat. 

Turbine One on its own couldn't feed enough O2 into the boosters to bring him closer to the danger in time, the calculations all declared he would fail. With the safeguards gone however, the software whispered that he had a chance... The reactor was willed into overdrive, spinning it up to maximum output, damning the consequences. The rods inside would eventually melt through the metal housing, but it would give him the edge! The boosters on Casper's back, usually gave off a lovey blue and white jet that burnt clean when it activated, but the flames that spewed out now, pushing his speed past what was possible on his own, was a dirty yellow, smoke and smog billowing out as a trail before it began to slowly change to blue in colour as the core temperature began to cascade upwards.

Qik was ready now, as Casper closed the distance. His rig raised the metal shield still bolted to his arm up, to protect his body, all the while the top of his recon unit's casing poked over the top; his optics never once leaving her.

'A good hunter's eyes never wander...' She mused.

The barrel roared and the entire atmosphere in the hanger warped and hiccupped as the force and concussive blast of the gun sent anything not firmly nailed down, flying. The round travelled the short distance in less than a blink. The world was moving in slow motion for Casper, so his optics saw the point of the spinning round as it destroyed one half of his reconnaissance unit. The round whistled into the distance, destroying several banks of dirt before eventually burying itself into the dirt. The rig flinched with the force of the shot, turning with the resulting air vortex of the round, but it was only a moment's distraction before the tiny red dot in the centre of the optic's aperture locked onto to Qik once more.

Cold. Dispassionate. Casper kept going.

Catastrophic damage was registered across his face, he'd lost radio, sensors and lidar, but the enemy was in front of him, he had committed and considered nothing else now. He cocked his arm, aligning the sword's hilt over the top of his shield to plunge it into the enemy's chest as soon as she was in range. He just needed a few more seconds.

The third and final shell tore Casper in half.

The vortex the shell created, added to the damage done by the round to the mech's midsection, disconnected both legs and sent the torso falling forwards, rolling into the dirt. A moment later, a small armoured circular aperture opened, and a tiny, human sized sarcophagus was fired into the sky, away from the unit's corpse. The reactor ignited and the mech began to burn and melt. It would continue to do so for several hours before it eventually laid there as a ruined husk into the night.

To Casper, he didn't feel the damage that 'killed' him, but he felt what it was like for his soul to be torn from his body. Like a crustation or arachnid, he felt his arms and legs be pulled from within the mech's limbs, shedding them like an old moult. He was pulled up, gathered into a tiny pathetic ball, and thrown from the back of the mech into the sky before he was deadened to the sensations of the world once more and thrust into the void. It was a mental trauma unlike anything else, Casper *knew* what it was like to die in violence now and for his very soul to be ripped from its home.

In the void, Casper wailed. Screaming into the nothingness at the awful sensations that he had just been forced through. He only stopped when he felt the exhaustion of the recent events catch up to him.

== 0 ==

Wren watched the pilot sarcophagus with disconnected professionalism. The engineering crew were well trained and moved with purpose and fluidity. The seal popped and the biological team stepped up. One of theirs stepped down into the casket and hooked two fabric loops under something out of Wren's sight. The geckin doctor knew it would be the human's arms.

At a curt hand signal to the crane operator, the human was lifted from the coffin-like structure, limp and unmoving. His body was slick with sweat and the room stank of his odour. It always did. Wren had hidden her disgust the first few times, but once she realised that the human was barely even conscious when he was retrieved from the mech, she'd stopped trying. He was lowered and gracelessly placed onto a gurney next to her. At least he hadn't vomited on himself this time. It wasn't that she cared for him, it just smelt even worse.

Wren knew other species felt emotions differently to geckins, she was a biologist after all, knowing how they thought was how they were winning the ongoing war with the ssypno. So, with 'Casper', she had adopted the persona of a care giver. It was a fairly easy act to pull off, she 'cooed' and 'fussed' over the human to ensure his cooperation, but that was no longer needed. He was obviously addicted to the Full Submersion Control, but its effects were lasting for the human. It took him time to recover where he was disoriented. Not to mention he was no longer property under the control of the geckin people. Damn that lopel for poisoning her hard work. Zeet had genuinely cared for the creature, thrilled to have found a worthy pilot for his life's work. Wren just wanted to peel back his skull and see how to recreate his strengths.

Now she was frustratingly obligated to tick the boxes to protect the geckin people. Mostly from the ire of the GC, should they ask what welfare checks they had put in place and attempt to accuse them of damaging the rarest species if all this went the way they expected. For all their faults, they would claim their tails should the geckins be found wanting in this regard. Falling out of their graces would do no good for keeping ssypno aggression in check.

"Sit him up." She ordered, stepping up the creature. Her research had come on leaps and bounds. The idea of near zero drift was unheard of and very, very interesting to the geckin private sector that paid for Wren's research. The geckin government had stepped away and had stopped protecting him now that the human was destined to no longer be their problem.

Wren sneered in uncovered disgust as she looked him over. Its flesh was clammy and pale, lacking the protection or brilliance of scales. When it had arrived, its flesh was pinkish brown. There were sections and areas where he was outright pale, obviously the skin was always covered by clothing in these areas, but now his skin was uniformly ashen, nearly grey throughout.

"Touch your fingers." She ordered curtly, raising her voice and getting a reaction from the creature. More of a flinch than acknowledgment. He didn't comply at first, his eyes, dull now, searching the room before finding her. She raised her arms and effortlessly touched her fingertips to her thumbs in a series, prompting him. She didn't like how his lips looked damaged, as if he'd been chewing them. Normal? Or a side effect?

"Touch your fingers." She instructed again, bored of this already. Her claws clacked against each other, giving a 'tik, tik, tik' sound that felt loud in the hanger bay.

The human complied, slowly raising his hands which both shook violently, as if he were shivering. It was slow at first. The task was to touch his thumb to the tips of each of his fingertips in a row, then back. He missed or made a fist at first before slowly coming back to his real body. It was as if they were training a pilot inside a mech, but the other way around. After a minute or so, he succeeded, Wren wasted no time.

"Touch your toes."

This one he did right away. She used to make him stand up and stretch, without bending his knees to touch his toes. Now he merely folded them at the knee while he sat there and brushed his hand against any part of his foot that he could reach. Good enough to her; instructions didn't say not to bend his knees.

"You're fine, get food and rest. No piloting tomorrow." More than enough medical care to appease a board. How 'kind' of her to prevent him from piloting for his welfare.

The human nodded, before shuffling towards the edge of the gurney and gingerly touching his toes to the floor. As he left, his gait was like a corpse that had come back to life, shuffling and lurching from one leg to the other. He wrapped his arms around himself and almost fell forwards, away from the geckins. He now walked as the geckin biological community had expected his gait when they had heard there was a biped species without a tail. Wren had turned back to her notes before Casper had left the hanger, before eventually disappearing from sight.

Wren merely sighed, already dismissing him from her mind. She'd like to get access to his brain before any long-term damage or even sudden damage occurred to it. But she'd settle for the plan offered by her benefactors. Either way, she'd get to play with that brain once it was in her lab, she often won these games if she just remained patient.

== 0 ==

"Casper?" Asked a voice, causing the formley lone occupant of the corridor to blink. He had been slumped against a wall, still standing, but gathering his strength. The haggard young man turned and looked back the way he had come, to now find the lopel mercenary, Qik standing there. He frowned, unsure if she was actually in the corridor with him, and reached out a hand to ensure she was real. She raised her own hand and caught his with ease.

"Hey Qik, sorry, I was daydreaming." Casper murmured before pulling his hand back before she caught the tremor that wouldn't stop. His skin physically ached where the soft pads of her hands had touched him.

"Sounds fun. Shall we get you to your quarters?" She asked, tilting her head, and watching him curiously. Casper merely nodded and made a concerted effort to walk with his back straight and steady rhythm to where his door waited for him. He touched the back of his hand to the sensor and the door slid aside with a hiss.

He stepped in, holding back a sigh until he was alone but was surprised when Qik followed without waiting for an invitation. He released his sigh and merely keyed the door shut behind her, too tired to protest. Ignoring her, he began to walk over to his bed, fully intending on falling into it until he woke up again. Qik's words caused him to pause and turn to look at her.

"I'm sorry I shot you." Qik started, feeling oddly guilty. "I'm sorry I shot you multiple times..." She added after a moment's consideration. She was a mercenary; he was hardly the first person she had shot. She hadn't even hurt him. But she felt... guilt. She knew that he felt truly connected to his rigs, whatever configuration they were. She didn't like to think whether he felt anything more than damage reports.

The human shrugged, his eyes were sunken, darkened and bruised as if he'd been hit in the face. He looked bone tired, smelt ill and his clothes, the human made tshirt he had arrived in that he wore now, hung off him. He'd lost weight. More then that, he'd stopped caring for himself and the geckin were obviously not offering that support either. They wouldn't now he'd played his hand and burnt bridges to leave.

"You're not having something to eat?" She asked, noting the pile of mess in his kitchen area.

"I'm not hungry." Casper explained simply, before going silent. With nothing more to say, he merely turned, shuffled again towards the oversized bed and physically collapsed into it. Clothes and all.

Qik blinked.

She was a mercenary of renown. The only reason she'd been stuck here for so long was because she was a lopel of her word, she'd signed a contract and would not leave until she completed that. It was a lifetime of work to gain a reputation of professionalism, but all it took was one bad contract and all that could be shaken. For her to be free once more, she just needed the next fight. She didn't *need* the human.

However.

In all her time as a mercenary, she'd seen many different types of pilots. Some were disconnected and professional about their work. Others were passionate, taking each contract as a bet against their own pride or skill. Not to mention the whole spectrum between.

So Qik had seen pilots like Casper before, they were the ones who had got into the trade for the wrong reasons. Money, Fear, Fleeing justice. It didn't matter, they were without hope and slowly wasted away. The lopel wasn't blind, she could see and hear just how animated the human became inside his rig. How withdrawn he was without it. He was addicted. It was obvious and should be obvious to him too.

But no one had explained about the seduction of the machine to him. No one had taken them under their wing, to explain that he had to care for himself. To know there was more than just the machine or eventually he wouldn't be able to pilot anything again. She was training him, yes, but did that mean that he was her responsibility? She didn't want an apprentice. She had just needed a way of salvaging her reputation from when he had first piloted a mech and fluked a draw.

She closed her eyes and sighed, turning her arm over and running two fingers over the bald circle on her inner forearm. It was one of the ports where she connected to her own rig. No one had taught her anything, she'd learnt it all the hard way.

But... she had to admit... She would have liked it if someone to have given a shit about her when she had started out...

Without a word, she left the main room to find the bathroom unit off to one side. As she fiddled with the dials, the large tub began to fill with hot water that steamed in the cold air of the living space. The console would handle the filling and dispensing of cleaning products into the fresh water.

As she watched the water rise, Qik considered how ace pilots often felt powerful inside a mech. They felt invincible. It *was* addictive. With their low drift, it meant there were very few reminders that the machine was not the ace's body. It was only the hiccups and delayed orders that brought pilots back to reality. The rigs were as dangerous to the enemy as they were to themselves.

As the tub filled, Qik strode over to the kitchen, where a pile of half-eaten high-nutrient slurry trays lay discarded. It only took her a few minutes, but she binned it all and filled a fresh bowl, warming it until it was piping hot. The slurry wasn't great, the appearance was of a lumpy mush and the taste was about the same. But if Casper ate two trays per day, he'd maintain his weight. If she could get three in him, he might actually gain something back onto his bones. The human was far too thin, no way was he an example of a 'healthy' human right now.

The bathroom unit pinged and one of the lopeljack's ears twitched. The bath was ready and an appropriate temperature.

Casper was so far gone that he barely woke as Qik rolled him gently onto his back. She removed his clothes with careful, respectful hands before slipping her arms beneath his knees and around his shoulders. He weighed nothing to her. He wasn't as small as a geckin, far from it, but even with her limited knowledge, he shouldn't be this light.

Walking the short distance, without his shirt, she paid attention to his body. She analysed it, like a doctor or field medic, dispassionate to his nudity. His ribs were well defined through the skin, and his collarbone stretched the thin looking skin taut. He looked like a refugee.

She shook her head as she gently lowered him into the steaming water, careful not to shock him or jostle him too much. His body jerked at the touch of water, and pale blue eyes cracked open, his head lolling limply against her arm as she settled him in the water. One hand never left him as she grabbed a washcloth and applied soap, before beginning to gently wash his body.

"...What... What are you doing?"

"I'm looking after you." She explained carefully. She used short, clear sentences, loud and curt enough to hear him, but softened the usual edge to her voice.

"I'm.. f-fine." He mumbled, trying to assure her he didn't need effort on his part.

"You don't look fine Casper, does anything hurt?" She asked, paying attention to dark splotches that created odd patches on his back. It could be bruising from when the pilot sarcophagus came back down to earth after being ejected from the rig. She asked her question and deliberately ran the cloth over these patches, noticing the flinch in the human's body.

"That... that uh..." He murmured, still very much confused and muddled, his voice went up an octave, wincing again. If Qik didn't miss her guess, she suspected he was in shock.

"A bit tender?" She asked softly.

"Uh huh." He mumbled, nodding his head jerkily. She let him sit back against the edge of the bath and began washing down his arms.

"Is there anything else that's bothering you? Anything else you can tell me about Casper?" She asked again, using his name to bring him back.

"My skin... hurts..." He admitted, blinking back tears, his eyes, already bloodshot, now swimming.

"It's the Nerve-Suit, the water will help it pass Casper, you're doing great. We just need to get you clean, okay?" She assured him, gently wiping over his chest, then continuing down his other arm.

"I'm sorry..." He whispered.

"Sorry? Why are you sorry?"

"You shot me... I... Don't... Didn't..." He was confused, in shock, did he think she had hit him because he had angered her?

"It's okay Casper. It wasn't your fault; you did everything correctly. It was just the final lesson, to teach you the limits of your mech, to know that you can't let your guard down. To know..." She looked into his eyes before she finished her sentence. She was gladdened to see that his eyes were awake... and aware. She blinked and gave him a rueful smile.

"To know you're not invincible." She finished, touching a warm, wet paw to his cheek. Touching him, reminding him that he could feel things. Casper sighed and closed his eyes, his hand reaching up and gingerly hold the back of her hand. They stayed there for a moment, Qik not rushing him in any way.

Eventually, he reached for the cloth.

"I'll... finish..." He explained, before adding "I needed this I think."

Qik just gave a knowing smirk.

"'You think'?" She snorted. "Don't doubt me if I tell you to do something. Deal?" Demanded the lopel as she relinquished the cloth to the human's hands. In the brief moment that they touched her hand, she felt the warmth in his skin again. The cold clammy feeling of his skin, no more. He still looked sickly however, and the cheekbones that dominated his face told her of what else he needed.

"Deal." The human said, squeezing the cloth and began washing himself, seemingly losing the self-conscious taboo that had held sway over him whenever they got changed together. Qik stood and left the bathroom, striding over to the kitchen and retrieving the slurry bowl. She picked up a spoon and returned. The human glanced up, his eyes flicking to the bowl and grimaced.

"Oh, come o-..." He began, but the merc was having none of it.

"You will eat." Qik declared. The young man's shoulders sagged, and he nodded, briefly running the wash cloth down his legs.

Qik folded herself down, dipping the spoon into the white and pinkish goop, before offering it to him.

"This is embarrassing." Casper bemoaned before having the spoon ladle the mixture onto his tongue where he didn't need to chew before swallowing. They repeated these three or four times whilst Qik replied.

"Then it's a lesson. Feed yourself after each deployment and I don't need to do this. Every time you don't; either me or someone from our company will do it." She grinned wickedly. "Can't wait to see some of the guys playing 'here comes the draconian' with you." She teased, knowing that it was not an idle threat, even if he didn't know yet.

"I'll eat. I promise I'll eat." Casper swore around a mouthful before swallowing again. "How come I've... wasted away like this?" His hands gestured to himself, the tendons standing proud. She considered her words before explaining.

"Ignoring you not eating, FSC is intensive. Your brain is working full time to control every single subsystem of the rig. Brains are hungry. Lack of any food and it'll eat away at you instead." Qik pointed out succinctly.

"How come you don't look like this then?" Casper asked, while Qik noticed his wandering eyes. She wasn't annoyed.

"I'm a career girl. I look after myself. I exercise, I eat, I get sunlight. All mechs, all the time? That's a fast track to being a husk. Plus, it's a shallower slope for us lopels to slip down." She added at the end, spoon finally hitting the bottom of the bowl as she continued to feed Casper, despite him having both hands free again. The water was a different colour now... The filth and grime finally removed from him.

"How do you mean?" He asked.

"It's all about your drift. You could out manoeuvre me, quite easily. Sure, my training might give me an edge, but you've got that beginner's chaos, trained pilots won't know how to handle you, you make choices that aren't normal. The lack of drift means your brain is handling more, however. Less drift, more intense the usage. I have about one, maybe two percent drift. As long as I take breaks, look after myself, eat my veggies; I'll keep myself looking fine." She said, putting the empty bowl to one side. It was only mild, but she felt that he had gained a bit of colour in his cheeks.

Casper sloshed the water as he brought his hand up to look at his fingers. The water was beginning to prune them. He touched his thumb to his fingertips in series, then did it the other way. Perfect each time.

He felt... human again.

"Since you're pretty much done with training now, we need to think of your callsign." The lopel who was still crouched next to him said nonchalantly. She was currently resting her arms on the edge of the bath, still sat on the floor, with her chin resting on her arms as she watched him.

"My callsign?"

"New Guy doesn't really inspire 'fear', does it?" She asked. Casper blinked and realised that she was talking sense, again. He'd need something, a name that connects to him personally. He thought of what he knew of callsigns and decided he needed a 'cool' one.

"Maverick?" He offered.

"*No*." The rabbit-like alien snapped. "There's like a million 'Mavericks' and they're all assholes." Qik immediately retorted, shooting that idea down rather rapidly. Casper sighed and grimaced at the water again, it was actually gross, now that he thought about it.

"I think I need to get out."

"Mm, water's gone bad." Qik agreed, standing and grabbing a towel. The large cut of fabric was designed for larger species than the geckins, the whole living quarters were, but seemingly for something just a bit bigger than a human. Like a lopeljack. The lopel grinned and looked away, holding the towel out as a makeshift curtain as the human stepped from the bath, intending on grabbing the towel from her.

Instead, the lopel grabbed the human into the towel, covering him briefly, spinning him in place, before escaping into the living area, laughing at the human's indignant squawk.

Casper freed himself and glared at the retreating short, stumpy, white fluffy tail of the lopel and had to consider it was a nice view. Turning to the bathroom counter, above the sinks was a mirror that reflected everything. There was a pale monster in the room with him.

Casper, blinking, focused and realised the creature was *him*. He was truly pale and gaunt. He'd known that he'd lost weight over his training, but this was dramatic. He looked sick. He looked *dead*.

"I really do look like a ghost..." He agreed to no one.

"What's a 'ghost'?" Called Qik, doing *something* in the other room. Running water and clinking gave the man hints.

"Uh.. A ghost, a spectre. The dead with unfinished business. They're usually really pale; you can't always see them. They can be friendly, or they can be pretty nasty. We got kid's tales and horror stories of all kinds with ghosts." He explained, leaning forwards and pulling the darkened flesh around his eyes taut, feeling how thin it felt.

Qik's head appeared around the doorframe in the mirror, pulling his attention.

"Perfect. You're 'Spectre' then." The head disappeared immediately, leaving Casper frowning before whipping his around to stare at the empty space incredulously.

"Excuse me?" The young man demanded, feeling energy diffuse him like no meal or sleep could.

"Would you prefer the callsign; Ghost?" 

"Aw man, that's too on the nose! My name is *Casper* for Christ's sake!"

"And 'Maverick' the single most overused callsign was a better idea? Nah, I'm your sponsor into the company, I'm registering you as either 'Spectre' or 'Ghost'."

"For fucks sake." Casper groaned, leaving the bathroom to find the lopel had tided the kitchen very neatly, and was now flicking the heavy blanket out, neatening it and preparing the bed.

"Come on. Bed. I don't know about you, but I'm tired." She ordered, merely tilting her head..

"Together?" The young man asked, glancing from the bed to the merc.

"Yes. My place is on the other side of the complex because they didn't trust that I wouldn't kill you in your sleep for breaking my mech first time round." She explained as if explaining something simple or obvious. Casper merely blinked and stared.

"Is that true?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah, I got bored when they were building your second rig and broke into the offices." She remembered with a grin, placing a fist on her hip. "Read their comments that they were worried I'd end you, but those files prove that they got their dirty little claws into all sorts of devious shit." Qik explained in a false hushed whisper.

Casper walked over and at her urging clambered into the bed first as she continued.

"Honestly, I can't wait to get out of here, I think you'll do better away as well. We just gotta' play smart." She explained, crowding him by swinging a leg under the covers and using her wide hips to bounce him further into the covers. The lopeljack was certainly bottom heavy, whilst her top half was muscled, her hips and thighs were exaggerated, but not unpleasant to look at from Casper's perspective.

Now they shared his bed.

He lay there for a time as the lights winked out and stayed dead still, facing the ceiling with his hands resting on his stomach, over the covers. He wasn't expecting a visitor, nor for the lopel to ever enter his bed. Whilst the young man felt a thousand times better than he did before getting home, he was now more confused than when he had been freshly pulled from the pilot's casket.

There was the sound of movement to his left and he felt the mattress warp as Qik turned over.

"Turn away from me." She instructed. Unthinking, he complied, turning to his right and facing the wall, more confused than embarrassed now.

A silky soft, muscular furry arm, snaked underneath his head, whilst a large warm body shuffled and pressed into his back. A lopeljack was taller than a human, reaching nine feet with ease, and hitting ten or even eleven if one included the ears. Her knees easily pressed into the back of his own as he was scooped into her hug and her other arm came round and over to hold him in place.

"What are-" He started, but Qik was ready.

"I can't sleep unless im hugging a pillow. Yours are too small, and I left mine at mine, so you'll have to do." She explained, her short muzzle working its way in and against the short, buzz cut of his head. She gently rubbed her face against him before settling.

"We're..." Casper began, but didn't know where the sentence was going. Noticing his hesitance, Qik settled matters.

"We're all snuggled, like two rounds in a mag. Don't think about it... just relax..." She whispered, gently squeezing his middle into her.

He laid there for a time, blinking, feeling her chest rise and fall as she laid there. He wanted to panic, to perhaps ask if she was sure? But... he was tired. His eyelids drooped and despite himself jerking awake once or twice, eventually he settled into a sleep that as so deep, even when Qik unintentionally turned over an hour later, dragging him with her; Casper never stirred even once.

Qik placed a finger under his nose to ensure he was still breathing in that moment, but relaxed when her fur ruffled under his breath and then she too, fell asleep.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 7

"That went well." Qik said as she slipped a foot into the nerve suit's trouser leg while Casper was currently running his fingernails across the top of his scalp, itching it vigorously. The man glared at the messy cap of hair that had plagued him for the last hour.

He'd had to wear it for the entire interview with a GC representative. All a giant farse to hide the fact that as a 'critically endangered species' mere months of living in geckin space, Caper was now piloting thirty-foot mechs that had the potential of killing him if he took a bad hit.

"I want to burn this." He said bluntly, glaring at the ridiculous yellow, blonde wing that was more in place on a fictional character than real life.

"Do it, throw it into the furnace." Qik shrugged, as she shimmied into the Nerve-Suit, its shiny material hugging her curves in ways that made the human stare quite openly. Qik was slim, sleek, and athletic. Her abdominal muscles showed through her fur quite easily and the 'skintight' Nerve-Suit only emphasised that further. His eyes greedily drank in the way the light played over the smooth contours. He blinked, snapping back to reality. Why was it hard to concentrate?

"Uhh, I... Can't. That was it. It belongs to a geckin, not part of the military. But... why did they have a wig?" Casper asked, holding it in his hands and squinting at the item, trying to distract himself from the toned leg that was parked on the bench next to him as Qik adjusted and made sure the suit was in place.

"Apparently they had a fantasy of a human. Or a facsimile." Qik explained as Casper put it aside and began to disrobe.

"What do you mean?" He asked as he turned away from her to remove his underwear, still suffering from the human-made taboo of being undressed in front of the opposite gender. He'd discovered that, that was not a common fear amongst the stars. Humans were the odd one out for how much they cared about separating the genders. Even on his public ID, it didn't have his gender listed.

"Humans aren't new in some parts of the galaxy apparently." Qik began, fists now on her hips whilst she openly stared at Casper as he donned the stretchy Nerve-Suit. "You might have only been officially part of the GC for like, six months? But it seems that Ssypno media has human-things running around long before then. Rumours and shit. This geckin was a human lover." The lopel mercenary finished with a grin.

Casper frowned and ensured his suit was donned correctly, trying to line up the needle holes with the red welts that covered his ashen skin.

"Human lover, before humans were found. Sounds like a-abduct-..."

Casper blinked as the changing room was suddenly filled with a deafening roar, he tried to say something, but nothing came out as he became lightheaded and lost his balance. Toppling forwards, strong arms and hands grabbed him, arresting his fall. It took a moment for his legs to work and lift himself back up, knees shaking. He looked down at the brown fur and black latex covered arms holding him.

Qik.

Noise from behind his ear. She was saying something. He took a guess, not wanting her to know how far gone he was.

"Dizzy... Just a bit dizzy." As he was sat down on the bench with her help. "Got up too quick."

"You been eating?" Qik asked, her face close to his. She had knelt down and held his head between both of her hands, peering into his eyes, using her thumb to pull his eyelid down slightly and observed him. They were warm. Her hands were so warm and blocked out the world and the roaring noise. He gently reached up and touched her hands, not quite holding her there, but ensuring she didn't pull away too quickly.

"Yeah..." He lied, the young man hadn't been hungry recently. He'd nibbled the nutritional mush but had poured most of it down the toilet before going to bed. He felt fine, he'd felt this way before, and knew the moment he was back in the rig, he'd be better than fine once more.

The brown furred rabbit-like alien merely frowned, then clicked her tongue. She let go, much to his disappointment.

"Come on then. We're testing live weapons today. No more simulations. You're going to need a pick-me-up." She decided on his behalf, her voice moving away.

Blinking, Casper willed himself to concentrate, to get back in the room and turned his head to find the alien rifling through her jacket's inner pockets. She pulled a tiny hard packet and held it between two fingers, holding it to the light. Standing back up, her legs going on for days, she cat-walked back over to where he was sat and folded herself back down.

She took the packet, snapped it in half and held it to Casper's nose with one hand, while the other grasped the back of his head, preventing him from retreating.

"Sniff. Once and hard." She ordered, eyes fixing him in place.

He trusted her, Casper complied.

Immediately he felt better. The second he finished inhaling, his lungs breathed out through his mouth and his vision became notably clearer. His eyes felt as if he had put drops into them. The tightness in the back of his skull was gone. He wasn't high or wired. There wasn't a tremble to his hands like when he had, had too much coffee, but in a matter of seconds; he was awake and alert once more. Qik nodded at his eyes focusing on her a moment later. Even his legs felt strong and ready, the tremble, gone as if it were never there.

"It's not a fix, but it keeps you on point during extended missions. It'll get you through today. You'll need to eat tonight though. Come on. Let's get going." She explained, patting his knee and standing up right, leaving his head at hip height.

== 0 ==

Casper received a message from Qik. These were public knowledge, and Qik never spoke of private matters over these messages as anyone could have been reading them. At least while they were operating under geckin jurisdiction.

{Okay New Guy, first up. Heavy weapon frames.}

Qik's rig was running ahead, the spiked ends of her rig's legs tip toeing across the landscape like she was merely a thirty-foot mech running through a feel of daisies. As the pair of them left the safety of the hangers and went to the wider, more deserted firing ranges for the rigs, Casper was reminded that they were travelling a not insignificant distance at high speed.

Casper's rig was running alongside her, but it was more of a skip, where his massive metal feet kicked at the earth and his booster suite, fit to his back, propelled him forwards in great leaps and bounds. It didn't matter which way he wanted to move, the directional jets would automatically move with his desires, and fire as one, launching the human rig in a complete 3D space. Even up into the sky, although jumping was ill-advised at most times.

While Qik's rig was armoured and designed to be fast and deadly, offering her an all-round offence and defence, Casper's rig was an 'ultralight', designed to not *be* hit, by being faster than the opponent. It suited his style, fast and accurate, avoiding confrontation if he could. The near zero drift of his connection to his rig meant that plenty of effort was put into freedom of movement of the machine. If his body could do it in 'real life', he could do it inside his rig. Even jumping, the engineering crew of the geckins had put a lot of thought into shock absorbers, just to prevent the utter destruction of the suit from one bad landing.

It had gone so far that Qik had been tasked with teaching the young man how to roll and fall safely on crash mats in the real world. He hated those lessons; his biological side was even weaker now... not like his mechanical body. It had yet to fail him even once.

The new received message caught his full attention.

{Heavy weapon frames are equipment packages that are launched into the combat area during the softening barrages. To the enemy, it could be an unexploded ordinance. To you? It's a power up.} Casper felt *something* ahead, it made him giddy. It was something pleasant. Something good. Like a 'blip' in his mind, he made a straight line for it.

The pair of the giant rigs came up to the lip of a crater. At the centre, in the lowest part of the divot, was a metal lid. Without prompting the lid pinged off and a weapon package appeared from the ground.

{Approach it.}

Casper complied, sliding down the loose dirt with more ease than should have been possible. The loose dirt of the craters had toppled more than one mech in the past. As he approached however, the package unfolded, and an autocannon revealed itself to him. Without training, the software of the rig stepped in and he instantly knew how to equip the item. It was always odd when the software packages that were part of his rig inserted their knowledge in places that he had previously no experience.

He had not known to aim for joints to disable a mech's weapons or movement. He did not know that pilots were almost always situated between the shoulders at the back of the mech. He didn't know, to duck his head and shoulder the weapon platform, nor how to all clicked and clunked into place. But now, thanks to the software, he knew it by instinct. The moment he needed the information; it was there, in his mind as if he had merely forgotten it.

Casper stood up straight, shouldering the platform and felt the weight. He could feel that his movement was lessened dramatically, bending his knees under the weight.

[Its heavy.] He sent.

{You're not going to be able to boost or move at your normal speed with that thing. This is a shoot, empty the weapon, then bug out package.}

[Speed is life?] He sent with mild hope she would get the reference.

{Yes, that's a very good motto to keep in your head. Now, that mountain over there insulted us, fire at will.} She demanded, and a pockmarked slab of rock was pinged as a target. His optics tracked it perfectly, so did the cannon. The cannon was easy to use. It was as if Casper had gained a third eye, one that followed exactly where the barrel was pointing. It was no harder to aim the weapon than it was to cross or uncross one's eyes. It took concentration, an effort, but no more than that. A mild effort to aim an oversized tank cannon.

If Casper could smile, he would have, he settled for clicking his optics. The satisfying clunk and explosion of the weapon rattled the entire frame of Casper's rig with each round. His shots, despite aiming somewhat carefully, went far wider than he expected. It certainly wasn't as accurate as he wanted, so he knelt low and aimed his shots instead of firing wildly, tensing his arm.

Clunk.

Clunk.

Clunk.

The shells of the expended ordinance flew out the side of the cannon, away from his rig until they dented the earth. He was watching the rounds carefully as they arced, however. He was pleased when each hit the centre of the previous round's explosion, visibly boring into the side of the mountain until entire sections began to crumble and begin a rockslide now that gravity wanted its due.

Each time Casper willed the weapon to fire, not pulling any mechanical trigger, he felt a counter in his mind. Like each fired round made him lighter, and emptier until finally nothing more happened. He knew that he had nothing left in this weapon.

{You're out, that equipment is now nothing more than extra weight. Eject it.}

Casper shrugged and pins fired as one. The new frame that had locked around Casper's rig fell to pieces, freeing him. Immediately he felt his spine lengthen and had to resist the urge to bounce on the spot with the returned freedom. His rig twisted and flexed, while Qik's rig merely watched on, still as a statue. His rig's arms extended, then returned, shadow boxing in the open air.

{You really feel more alive out here, don't you?}

[You have no idea...]

{Tell me about it, we got more stuff to try, Southeast.}

A new 'blip' appeared in the distance. It was a curious sensation, like there was a physical presence touching his forehead when he looked in that direction. The software, melding perfectly with his nerves. The pair of them began their run once more, bounding over hills and along valleys. Casper breathed deep, the vents across his chest opening fully, reducing his armour, but allowing his reactor to run hotter. Everything was in sync.

He was the mech. The mech was the real him.

[It's a freedom unlike any other.]

{I've enjoyed lots of different freedom New Guy. It can't be that good. }

[I don't think I could explain it to you unless you lived like a human did only a little bit ago. We were told we had freedom, we didn't.]

{I hope your old leaders survived, only a matter of time until a juicy contract pops up for them}

[I don't want revenge. I just don't want to go back.]

Casper hadn't even laid eyes on the metal capsule before the lid audibly pinged off this time. His mech grabbed the lip of the crater as his legs and boosters threw him up and over the lip. It was the same movement as jumping over a fence, only his entire body knew where it was and where the ground was. He'd never catch his foot on the ground, he'd never worry about being tired. He was truly in control now.

Similar to the Autocannon there was equipment hanging in the air, ready for Casper's rig to get into position. He did so without hesitation, he trusted himself.

{Fastest method of taking out a threat is to ensure its destroyed. Let me get clear before you turn all that on.} Came a message from Qik before he felt her rig retreat rapidly over several hills.

Casper's rig stepped into the frame and a hilt was presented to his hand, which grasped and locked it into place. On his opposite arm, a round disc was bolted into place, the lug nuts twisted and locked in within seconds. Casper turned and swept the hilt in an arc in front of him, just as the fusion engine buried within burped to life.

[You got me a sword!?] He demanded, moving through several motions, finding them natural and fluid despite never having held a sword, real or fake, before.

{It's technically a blowtorch, but if you want to designate it a sword, go for it New Guy.}

Again, Casper's rig's optics clicked in glee as he swung the sword in greater arcs with faster and faster strokes until he was spinning and hopping from one leg to the other. He was graceful and deadly in equal measures. The young man felt as if he could take on any master swordsman if they had the ill fortune to cross him.

{Enjoying yourself? Good to see you so loose and limber. It'll be useful for this next bit.} Came Qik's next message, but she was beyond his range of perception, even if he tried to extend his sight, his feelings; wherever she was, if she was still in the dunes, she was low and still. Hidden from him.

He was turning his head from left to right, searching the horizon for a clue to where she might be, when the first shot pinged off his left shoulder.  Sparks flew and something squealed off into the distance. Casper rolled forward with the force of the below, bending over and getting cover within the crater.

More rounds from the west began to fly overhead, chewing up the crater's edge. He could see and hear the bright flashes of the live rounds whizzing mere inches, or what felt like inches, from his head.

{New Objective: get back to the hangers without being disabled. Good luck New Guy.} Was the final message Casper received from Qik. Emotions never came across in the text format, but this felt cold, or maybe she was amused? Either way, Casper knew the lopel pilot was serious. Casper shuffled on his hands and knees, the ignited blade dying at his whim. He made his way around the crater away from the barrage of bullets that threatened to take the head off anything that appeared.

In the brief moment that Casper's reconnaissance unit popped up, time seemed to slow. His optics clicked and he immediately saw the tower that had sprung up from the ground, from between two of the formerly unimportant hills. Atop it was a turret that was firing a stream of bullets his way. In this slowed state, he could see the barrels twist and adjust to his new position, so he ducked again and shuffled to the bottom of the crater.

Moments later, the space his head had occupied exploded in a shower of dirt and sod. But Casper didn't care.

He might have cared if he was weak.

If he feared for his flesh.

But he didn't.

He was inside a machine that made him fast, strong and dangerous. He might have worn a frown, or even a grimace, but the rig couldn't recreate those movements. As he prepared to leave the crater, his optics clicked instead.

From the crater, Casper's rig exploded out of it with a burst of speed that belied the size of the machine. His legs unfolded and braced him for impact as the rig landed, scraping down the side of one of the hills, sending dirt and grass flying. There was no delay, the main thruster that sat in the very centre of Casper's back roared to life and catapulted him forwards!

If he were a mere human, he may have feared the speed at which he rocketed forwards towards the turret, he may have even feared the barrels as they tracked him, spinning up, ready to vomit another stream at him.

But not whilst he was within his mech, not while he was who he was meant to be.

He.

Was.

Invincible.

The tower grew and grew as his rig approached at Mach speed, all he had to do to reach it was kick the ground only a few moments before he hit the base directly. His trajectory changed in an instant and the rig soared into the sky majestically. The barrels flashed and burped another stream, but the sword was only part of the weapons package he had picked up, the shield bolted to his other arm was raised high, tilted to deflect, rather than absorb the rounds that screeched and wailed as they ricocheted off the solid shield.

The sword came to life once more, flame and fire that burned in the thousands of degrees flowed from the hilt, directly into the metal of the turret, cutting through the armour with ease and destroying both the precious wiring and the volatile ammunition within. Like a knife through butter. As gravity reasserted itself, Casper bent his knees and the booster pack closed all the vents on his back, opened the vents to his front and fired, softening his landing in a cloud of dirt just as the tower and the turret exploded in a shower of sparks and fire.

[Hah! Take that!] He sent on a broad wave, standing in his moment of true victory, one fist raised, holding the sword aloft.

The RL238 AAFPPT (Anti-Armour, Falling Petal, Pass Through) round pummelling straight through the left hand vents on the front of Casper's rig without losing even a fraction of its energy. The spinning munition tore through internal components without a single care, easily completing its mission of punching right back out the otherside of the machine. The round continued its journey for just short of a mile before being oblitorated as buried itself into the dirt. 

The barrel of the 120mm rifle that had fired the round was still glowing at this moment. Vapour steamed gently away, unfussed by any breeze despite the violence of noise and light that flashed by only moments ago. 

Qik winced in her rig as she observed the perfect hole straight through the chest of Casper’s rig. It was a hard lesson, but one every pilot needed to have.To be disabled.

What did it mean to a pilot with no drift though?

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 6

There were *always* reminders that Casper was not amongst humans. 

If a human child annoyed a parent, did something mildly wrong or endangered themselves, it was common for their offending hand to receive a slight swat. It was never meant to be enough to hurt the child or even sting. It was meant to be a sudden negative sensation that caught the child's attention and instilled an understanding not to do something. 

However, when Casper reached up, wormed his fingers underneath his hairline to scratch at the itch that was burning his scalp, the geckin hairdresser merely poked the human's offending hand with her short, but still sharp claw as she would a geckin child. It felt like being pricked with a needle and had the young man whip his hand away as an instinct. 

"Stop touching it." She ordered. 

To be fair to her, she had spent ample time already ensuring that the wig was correctly set and Casper, worrying it, was threatening to undo her efforts. 

"It's itchy." Casper complained, looking down at his fingers where a jewel of bright red blood had appeared on the side of his finger. Human flesh was not as protective as geckin scales. Already, he had picked up a myriad of small scratches, scabs and even scars; just from interacting with the other aliens amongst the stars and their sharp claws. He put the finger to his lips and ensured that the bright red liquid wouldn't stain anything. 

"It's not itchy, now hold still." The black geckin ordered again, focused on her work as she applied make up to the young man's face. He watched in the mirror as the darkened patches around his eyes were brought back to a lighter shade, something resembling what he looked like when the human had first arrived.

"Why is it blonde? I had brown hair..." Casper asked, frowning at the mirror and the lightning yellow hair that topped his scalp.

"Just be glad there was even a wig of this type on the planet, we didn't have options *human*." Snapped the artist. She glanced back to the mirror, then back to his face, squinting. Appraising him.

A picture of his face as it was, was attached to the mirror that the stylist referred to often. It was supplied by the planet's administration so the geckin knew what she was aiming for with the wig and makeup. Casper merely sat in silence as his pale skin was returned to a healthier pinker shade. He'd changed a lot.

He had mildly expected her to overdo it, or make him look silly, but since it was the government demanding a stylist, apparently, she was very skilled at her craft, and it was evident in her work. Before long, Casper looked like a healthy human again. The young man remembered briefly, that this was what he was supposed to look like.

"Right! Is he ready?" Demanded a voice from the doorway, as it opened the same moment the voice spoke.

"As he can be..." The geckin mumbled, glancing from his face to his reflection. "He's so pale..."

"Ah he's fine! Fighting fit! Aren't you?" Demanded the voice.

Casper whispered a 'thanks' to the stylist who only shrugged and began packing her plethora of equipment away. The young man stood and found a government official in the doorway, stood atop a bipedal platform that was adorned with the government seal on the very front. The young man had no idea who this guy was, but the geckin was looking to him expectantly.

"Of course. Fit as a fiddle." Casper retorted, wiping his hands down the front of his outfit. It was of fine make, the materials felt expensive, but the fit was off. Made by alien hands who worked around the strange dimensions of the clothes they were making. It was obvious the tailer, albeit skilled, had biases. It was tight across the shoulders, a tailhole in the trousers had been hastily stitched up after being left in. It felt like the legs were overly tight on his thighs, but then drowned his calves in loose material.

Still, he wasn't expected to wear this getup for long. Long enough to fool someone. Just enough to get the GC off both his back and the geckin administration's. As Casper approached, the newcomer backed out of the room and began walking, gesturing for the far taller human to follow.

"Okay, so I know we've gone over this already, but one last time from the top." The diminutive alien demanded. Casper caught up and mentally went through the checklist. He all but physically ticked off his fingers as he spoke.

"The GC are checking up on me. Making sure I'm healthy and happy. I don't know this. I am to act 'mildly surprised' that they're calling. If they mention the fact the other humans are missing, I'm to be shocked and ask if they are okay. If they offer one of these new guardians or their program, I 'naturally' suggest assigning Qik, as she and I have become good friends and she's been looking after me." Casper summarised succinctly. "Happy, healthy, not using giant mechs."

"Excellent, don't forget to do that tooth thing. Lots of that tooth showing thing." The geckin continued, not looking back to Casper as they approached another door. Smiling, the geckins, nor the lopeljacks smiled. They weren't apes, teeth were a threat display to them, but they knew and understood that Casper smiling was a 'good' thing, at least his handlers did. The young man blinked, thinking back to when he had last smiled.

Three weeks ago? Qik had told him about a joke in the mess hall. He didn't go to the mess hall now.

The door they approached opened and the room beyond was revealed to contain a whole geckin media team, sat at various chairs, all with consoles that connected via wires to a lone console that sat in front of a backdrop and an empty chair, both sized for a human. The image of the backdrop was one of an ample living room with a 'lived in' feel. Tasteful mess spoke of a comfortable occupant. The layout looked somewhat like Casper's own living quarters, but his were still almost unused. Most nights he got home, fell into bed, then woke and left in the morning. The only 'used' part of his room was the bed and maybe the bathroom.

Blinking, he corrected; his kitchen counter had several empty nutrient slurry bowls, stacked several high.

Qik was sulking in an unused corner, her own personal thunder cloud keeping everyone away from her. The significant frown on her face broke briefly when she gave Casper as a smirk lifted her features before her face dropped again. It wasn't hard to guess why she was angry; she was dressed ridiculously, at least for her. He resisted the urge to itch under the stupid wig as he crossed the room.

In the few weeks that Casper had known Qik, she had never been one for wearing anything other than her Nerve-Suit, a leather jacket with merc patches stitched into the arms and back or a mechanic's jumpsuit to protect her brown fur from oil whilst she worked on her own rig. The bright white material that currently clung to her arms and legs, was out of the ordinary, not to mention that the fabric leotard that covered her body left little to the imagination. It gave her a very 'feminine' appearance, despite Qik being far from the stereotype. This was all covered, by strips of see-through silk that hung down off her body from around her neck, the material rippled in unseen air currents. It gave her a very clean, bright look, despite her face looking like she'd eaten a bee recently.

Casper joined her in the corner while the official went over to speak with one of the media team in hushed and hurried tones.

"You okay?" The young man asked the brooding figure.

"I hate wearing this shit." Qik snapped, glowering at the geckins who obviously had a hand in her current state. Casper glanced up at her and noticed a red dot had appeared around jewellery that had not been in her ears the day before. He touched his own ear and cleared his throat.

"You're bleeding. Haven't seen you with jewellery before." He said, adding his observation casually. She looked good.

"Course you haven't! I'm not taken." She snorted, pulling a tissue with red dots already on it and reached up to dab at her ear.

"Taken?" Casper asked, his brow furrowing. He knew so little of her, despite spending weeks under her tutelage.

"If you see a lopel with jewellery in the ear, it means they're not available. They.." she said, nodding to the geckins. "Say it makes me more appealing to the GC. Hurts like a bitch."

"Huh, you never had a piercing?" The human asked, mildly shocked this was new for her. She seemed so world travelled, he would have expected something like a piercing as a minimum.

"Obviously I have. If a contract needed me to sneak in somewhere, I'd use jewellery to pretend I'm one of the 'safe' ones. You know? Keep my ears up, act like I have a single braincell?" She explained, tilting her hand as if it was a normal conversation to talk about what amounted to espionage.

Casper couldn't resist grinning and adopted her stance, leaning against a wall, arms cross, one foot up for balance.

"You're going to need to explain all this before I join your merry band." Casper pointed out, the lopel to his left rolled her eyes and Qik sighed dramatically before speaking. Her tone was of a teacher, she wasn't being harsh with him, she was just on edge.

"Lopels with tall straight ears are non-combatants, they're the ones that have never had a hard day in their life. It's hard for someone like me, to re-straighten their ears once they droop. Without ear braces, I mean. Guards and security will look closer at lopels with dropped ears, like mine." Qik explained, briefly lifting one of her ears between two fingers. It appeared as if the ears had no cartilage in them and hung loose and low, completely floppy.

"Stress is the factor. It can be any kind of stress but get shot at enough times and your ears just fall one day. That's when most mercs switch from social covert contracts to overt contracts." She finished, waving a hand as if dismissing the subject. Casper had spent enough time with Qik now to have learnt he would only receive insults if he pressed the subject and merely filed the information away for later.

"Remember what we talked about." Qik whispered suddenly, straightening, and uncrossing her arms. Casper nearly asked her why she'd remind me now, when the geckin high commander walked in and room went still.

AS the same for all geckins of status, she too had a bipedal platform, but it made nary a whisper as it turned the corner into the room. How Qik had heard her, even with her oversized ears, was lost to Casper.

"Right. The call is due any minute. We ready?" The high commander demanded in a cold tone, looking over the room once before peering at the human and lopel together. She looked like any other geckin, only with black and purple stripes across her scales.

"We are." Qik replied, stepping away from Casper. She was distancing herself from him. He had to do this on his own. Casper mentally disconnected himself from his nerves, from his fear, just how Qik had shown him how to do it in combat.

"I need a quick word." The young man started with a firm tone, holding his stare with the commander. The black and purple geckin narrowed her eyes and bared her teeth. Not a smile by any stretch. The entire room went silent as all eyes were on him and everyone held their breath.

"I wish to talk about a contract." He explained curtly.

"Is now the-" The commander attempted to dodge, but the budding new pilot had been coached about how they would attempt to avoid dealing with him when he was holding all the cards.

"Now is perfect. I am striking when I have the most control. Any time after this and the geckin government has the upper hand. The GC are about to ask if I'm happy. I'll be happy if I have a duplicate of Qik's contract. Your next mission is mine as well as Qik's, afterwards I am free to leave or write up a new one." Casper summarised immediately, covering all his bases, and ensuring no time was lost. He had to get this deal *before* the wellness check, not during or after.

"This is-" The geckin commander attempted again, trying to manoeuvre away. With the lopel's guidance, the geckins were, as Qik had warned; predictable.

"Ma'am. This is not a bluff. You know I'm good, that's why you've let me train as I have, but I'm not *yours*. I never was, that was an error on your phycologist's part." The man repeated the lopel's words, whispered as they were whilst they had suited up for the mechs in the last few days.

"The lopel will betray you the second the price is right." The commander pointed out. Exactly as Qik had foreseen.

"Then I'll deal with it then and you can say 'told you so', but right now I need that contract." He pressed, tilting his head down a fraction. The geckin hissed again, but her eyes never left the human's. Casper may have blinked, if he was the same person he was when he had first arrived on the planet. But the young man that had arrived wasn't there anymore.

He felt his emotions were far away, sat inside a metal machine, just waiting for him to reattach. Any nervousness was lost to the grey fog that his mind had. The only reason he was so awake and aware was because of the stimulant Qik had slipped him weeks ago. He took a hit any day he wasn't planned to be inside his rig. He was at his weakest in this moment, yet could no show that to anyone in the room.

Seconds inched by before the geckin sneered and blinked, nodding to the human.

"Very well. You have my word. When this backfires, you might remember the geckin government was here at your beginning and allowed you to leave when asked. We could arrange recovery and a new contract. One you may find favourable." The small creature that could order his execution stated flatly.

"This was just business Ma'am. I know I had you over a barrel with this, but I'm not so dumb as to think you'd give me up that easily otherwise." Casper grinned a cold grin. One that 'showed teeth' but was devoid of warmth and happiness. It was a smile that the high commander understood and returned. Qik had said the geckin military would ultimately respect someone who can push their advantage in overwhelming odds. Any geckin understood that, especially after the ssypno hegemony had tried and failed to vassalize them as a species.

At least they hadn’t succeeded yet.

"You're going to be vicious." The high commander complimented, "With that aside, are you ready?" She asked curtly, all 'niceness' gone from her tone. Casper carefully let out a pent-up breath and mentally shook himself.

He was not a vicious person, not really...

But he did fine it...

Easier...

In recent times to be disconnected. Still, that could have all backfired and blown up in his face if they had called his bluff. Even if Casper had called out for help to the GC on the wellness check, it would still take time for their closest craft to come and get him. Ample time for problems to appear and accidents to happen.

Before he could respond to her though, one of the media team piped up.

"Calls coming in, it's marked for his attention."

The high commander tilted her head and appraised the human.

"Ready?"

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[wolven91]

Slight of Hand

Taurians are impressive to behold.

The males move like they float, never even so much as ruffling the silks they wore. Their ability to handle any situation, speak on a wide variety of topics, all the while being cool, calm and collected.

It *was* impressive.

The females were impressive by a whole different nature.

As tall as the tallest human, as strong as the strongest human. They were the very embodiment of 'macho'.

There was a ritual the females did that shocked any human who heard of it. Despite the females horns having the sensation of touch, those that wished to prove themselves, would dip their horns into a variety of molten metals.

Some would go gold for the looks, some would go silver or even steel. The hues might be varied, but it was the resistance to the pain that impressed any taurian who saw them.

A taurian with coated horns, was not one to trifle with.

Not all taurians could brag that however. That was only a small fraction of the population that chose to follow through, but all female taurians were impressed and fantasised what it would be like to survive the torture and walk away a true 'alpha'.

Marues was not one that ever believed she could get her horns dipped. Her pain threshold was very low and did not consider dipping even close to what she would want.

An ear piercing, however, was.

"Aw it's going to *hurt*!" She moaned, pacing back and forth.

The human merely held the piercing gun in one hand while she observed the, rather large, stud in between two fingers.

"Only for a moment Maru, now come on. Sit down."

It was weird to see a taurian nervous. They were huge creatures, still small compared to an ursidain, but when the shortest female taurian was as big as Shaquille O'Neil? It was a odd concept to think they'd panic at the idea of an ear piercing.

"But it'll hurt!" Exclaimed Marues, holding her hands over her large ears.

"For a second, come on, sit down so we can look. I won't do it, I want to see how it works and where you want it."

The taurian complied, but made a point of saying 'only to look'.

The human touched various points on the taurian's ear before one section along the bottom was chosen. It was the thinnest section possible, but the stud would look good.

At least Marues had taste.

"Alright, I'm going to count down." Explained the human as she punched a hole through the taurian's ear, clamping the stud into place without hesitation.

The taurian closed her eyes and braced as the human stood up and went to wipe the puncher down, cleaning the needle.

"Like 3, 2, 1, go or or or 3, 2, go?" Asked the taurian, peeking one eye to watch the human clean the gun.

"Mm, I usually countdown from 10. Really get the nerves going." Grinned the human, placing the gun down and retrieving a mirror.

"What?! You're so mean! Don't do that!" Demanded Marues. She'd come to the human because *normally* they were kind! At least Marues knew the human wouldn't tell anyone how much of a weakling Marues was being about this.

"Alright, alright. How about... I fit it when you're not paying attention?"

The taurian leveled a glare at the human, who was holding the hand held mirror out to the larger alien.

"Har har. Can we get on with it? I'm freaking out!"

"Just check that I've got the spot right in the mirror."

The taurian looked at the mirror, then back to the human.

"Yeah, that's right. Let's do it!"

"Cool. Tadaa. Done."

The taurian frowned, before looking down.

Looking back up.

Looking down and turning her head to see her ear more clearly.

She even gingerly touched it, wincing a fraction.

Marues looked up, blinking, her muzzle-like mouth working but no words coming out. The human merely grinned and gave a wink before walking to the kitchen to get a drink.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[wolven91]

Drifting- Part 5

There was an eon where Casper merely floated in the infinite dark.

The last thing he remembered before the dark was the concrete road, rushing up to greet him. He couldn't even put his hands up to stop himself as he had grabbed the other person's head with both hands, intending on either tearing it off or slam dunking it into the floor. He recalled, just as it all went blank, that he knew something bad had happened to his head and his neck in the same instance. Even now, a quick check of himself and he knew there were several problems, instinctually, like a perfect itemised list that remained constant in his mind's eye until he dismissed it. It was mainly his head, but he knew he was hurt in the stomach too.

With the destruction of his head, or at least he assumed his head was destroyed, saying he couldn't see, hear, smell or taste anything, nor could he feel anything when he reached up to touch where it should have been; he'd lost all sense of the outside world in an instant. Even if he thrashed or yelled or raged at the dark; nothing changed. His fingers felt nothing, he wasn't laying on anything. The young man couldn't even feel the sun on his skin. He was headless, in the perfect dark.

It was him and the void, all around him. He lay there and, with nothing else to do; Casper began to think.

[Am I dead?]

How does one know when they die? No one had come back to give instructions. Was this what happened? Casper thought back to Earth of all things. The planet which he'd had to flee. Where he'd left his family and many of his friends behind. He'd been on a night out, celebrating his birthday when it happened. Only one of his friends had been grabbed at the same time as him, the rest of his friends had avoided the grasping hands of the ursidains, running and jeering, throwing whatever was at hand.

Casper still didn't know if they had made it off before the end.

From the government records, he was apparently the only member of his family who made it.

Were they stuck in a void like this too?

No wonder ghosts were angry, lashing out he thought. Casper was already getting agitated, and he'd been alone in the void for... How long had he been here? Seconds? Hours? Days? How could he know? He couldn't even feel so much as his...

Then something changed.

The void didn't change, it was still dark and completely devoid of sensation, both physical and otherwise. But Casper could *sense* that he was exposed. Like the back of his neck had been flayed open, leaving his vulnerable spine exposed to danger.

Then there was a noise. A clank of a tool hitting metal beyond a door or wall. Then clattering, of claws on metal, clinking and skittering. More clanking, of something close by, mere inches away.

Then Casper was born for the second time.

Bright light blinded the man. It was so bright, cold, and harsh that he tried to cry out and shield himself with his hands, but the rebreather mask that covered his nose and mouth prevented him from forming sentences. His arms, although now freed from being crossed over his chest, refused to move with purpose; he feebly raised them, only to be shocked by the exhaustion and they collapsed onto him the moment he stopped to recuperate.

Several moving shadows blocked the light, but only for brief moments. The young man kept his eyes screwed up tight, squinting up at the creatures, he tried to prevent them from reach out to him, but all he did was ineffectually paw at them. The air was cold against his skin, and he felt sickly, as if starved and weak. Like he'd not eaten in days. He couldn't help but shiver. All the while this was happening, there was a deafening calamity that lanced pain through the man's mind, giving him a headache that crippled his thoughts. People shouting, tools slamming against metal. It was too much! Too loud!

Something cold and hard, like steel, wrapped around him and lifted him from the womb which had housed him in comfort and warmth. He cried out, but the metal claw that had grasped him between four unrelenting fingers was emotionless as it pulled him free and lowered him onto something yielding and soft.

"Get him to medical. Full check-up."

That was Wren's voice, the young man was certain of it. Her name was clear in his head, but he couldn't bring himself to open his eyes, it was still so bright he could only see the bright red of the inside of his eyelids. He didn't dare open them.

"*Where is it!? Who was the pilot?!*" Came a harsh voice that bellowed and echoed around the apparently enclosed building. Casper felt movement, but there was no wind against him, no sunlight on his skin. He wasn't outside. He raised a hand and placed it over his stomach, but it merely slid off, frictionless. He felt pressure, but the sensation was muted. His fingers couldn't feel his skin, and his skin could feel his fingers.

The harsh voice continued to argue with something or someone but dropped in volume as Casper was apparently moved away, into another room and now that the maelstrom of noise and activity was gone? Fell asleep.

== 0 ==

The next thing Casper was aware of was discomfort. He coughed and winced, there was something stuck in his throat, irritating it. As he reached up however, he found his hand was connected to something, stopping his movements.

Finally opening his eyes, a clean white room with minimal features came into focus. Inserted into the back of his hand was a canular. His wrist was bound to the bed with a cushioned cuff. Turning his head the tubing that connected to the back of his hand, was connected to a drip of some kind, but the bag had alien runes and text on it. It made no sense to him. Next thing he noticed was with the turn of his head, something pulled tight across his face and into his nose. He winced.

With two fingers, he reached up, confused, only to jump when a rumbling voice broke the silence.

"Don't touch that. That's how they're getting food in you."

Glancing round, there was a partially pulled curtain, blocking the source of the voice.

"Who's there? What happened?" He asked, voice rough, but no longer as weak or unintelligible as when he was first torn from the oblivion.

"You completed your first dive. Piloted a mech." Congratulated the voice. It was deep and rich, Casper's translators, of the sub-dermal variety, gave the voice a female inflection.

"That put me in hospital?"

A single chuckle.

"No. But you had no drift, so your brain forgot about your body. Took you a bit to remember. I bet it'll be easier next time." The voice continued with a hint of respect, maybe even admiration.

"Who are you?" Casper asked, trying to manipulate his face to set the tubes comfortably and failing. From behind the curtain, a new alien strutted out.

She was tall, with a serious face. The head was covered in short brown fur which covered a sloped face that met at a pointed nose. Atop her head, was dominated by a pair of long ears that hung down the back of her head and rested against the front of her shoulders. The sclera of her eyes were jet black instead of white, with the black of her pupil, it made her iris intense and dangerous looking.

She wore a rough jacket around her torso, which was left open. Beneath was a nerve suit, similar to the one Casper had worn, complete with open jacks for the needles that would stab into and connect a pilot. This skintight material covered her from her neck, down her body, past her hips and only ended above her ankles. Whilst the rest of her was petit, for such a tall creature, it was her hips there were larger than normal.

Then again, as Casper laid there watching her, with the interloper suffering his study of her in silence, it didn't surprise the human that she had legs for days. If he squinted, the alien looked the spitting image, of a bipedal hare.

"I'm a lopel." She explained, in a bored tone, pushing off from the wall that she'd leant on and again, began to slowly walk around Casper's bed. His head tracked her carefully. "And you're a human." She accused, glancing at him with the golden eyes again. There was something about the way she stared at him, it wasn't a causal gaze or even her studying him as Zeet had done last week. It felt like a threat.

"What do you want? Why are you in my room?" Casper asked, mildly concerned that this thing that was watching him carefully. The way she tiptoed around his bed put him on edge, the saunter was not idle. Was the medical staff nearby?

"I want to kill you." She said plainly.

Casper immediately looked for an alert or a nurse call button but found none. She continued regardless.

"You got lucky yesterday. You ruined my rig and I want my rematch." She explained, coming to a halt next to his drip bag, looming over him whilst keeping her chin up. He could only just see her golden eyes, staring down at him as he were nothing more than filth on the bottom of her shoe... if she wore shoes.

"I'm sor-ACK!" Casper tried to apologise, but the alien grabbed his throat and squeezed. 

"Shut it! Do you know what kind of damage you've done to my-" She stopped herself, on the very edge of shouting, glanced at her hand, then let go of the young man who shrank back into the bed, staring up at her. The pain ebbed, but he was still shocked as she seemingly took a breath through her nose, closed her eyes, and took a step away, down the edge of the bed.

"You've tarnished my reputation, or at least, if anyone hears about this." She began again, with a deadly calm voice.

"I can just say I lost?" The man offered, looking for an out.

"Mm, cute. Like there wasn't a hundred eyes on us. No. I'm stuck in this contract and afterwards I'm never going to get another job again because some idiot decides they're going to bellyflop on top of me. Who the hell even taught you that?" She demanded, frowning, and shaking her face, turning to him as if it was such an incredulous idea to jump on top of someone's back. Her ears cascaded with the move of her head, like two giant ponytails.

Casper recalled that he would have landed on her back if she had stopped her 'rig' or even carried on the way she was going. The young man hadn't expected her to spin on the spot and had overshot, tearing off her 'head' and unable to protect his own.

"John Cena and it was more of a draw-" He replied, truthfully, but she wasn't listening.

"I'll add him to the list as well." She replied in a dark tone. "Next question, how did you get that mech to do that? It's the most broken and glitchy of the rigs here, literally because it's the 'pilot's first rig' mech. It's a miracle it still works!"

"I just... plugged in?" He paused before adding. "I'm not lying." This seemed to amuse her as her head flew back as she barked with laughter.

"'New Guy', you couldn't lie convincingly if your life depended on it." She pointed out, her smile, which softened her features in a lovely way; dropped in an instant. Her serious demeanour returning instantly. The room fell into silence as she pinched her chin, staring at him again. He felt a heat prickle in the space between his eyes, unable to hold her intense gaze.

"Can you blink-"

"What's your drift?" She interrupted, seemingly finding something of interest.

"Eh... A fraction of a percent? Why?"

She didn't respond, only glared at him while her hand stopped moving, still touching her face.

"I'm not-" Casper started, trying to defend himself.

"Shut up. I know you're not." She stopped him, but it wasn't her words that made the impact to the young man, but her tone. She believed him. That was evident even to him, and the 'gun barrel' stare she had been giving Casper was gone. It was a night and day change and she had barely moved an inch.

Knowledge of his 'low drift' changed the landscape for her. He'd missed something... Something important. He breathed in shakily, letting her have a moment to stop him from talking, but she remained pensive.

"How... rare is a low drift?" He asked carefully.

"Very." She stated flatly. Her golden irises flicking up, then back down as her fingers began to scratch at her chin again. She seemed to come to a conclusion and folded her arms under her chest, before tilting her head back as if unbelieving of Casper's answer even before she had asked her next question.

"So, you just... don't know about full submersion controllers?" She asked accusatively. "FSBs?"

"My planet got destroyed about... a month ago? A day before that; the most we knew about aliens was what we made up." Casper retorted, a flare of annoyance igniting in his chest. "No! I don't know *anything*!" Casper snapped back, annoyed that she wasn't getting that everything that had happened was a fluke and angry that he had to bring up such a topic just to defend himself from a mentally unstable easter bunny knock off!

It was enough though. Either his passion or his words, her next sentence was calm and low. She spoke clearly and slowly, enough for him to conceptualise what she explained.

"Fine. Just listen and maybe I can fill you in on some details our 'generous hosts' have left out for you." She offered, briefly raising her hands to air quote her words. For the next forty minutes, Qik the lopel as she would introduce herself, explained about 'full submersion controllers' or 'FSCs' and their use in the wider galaxy.

Casper learnt that mechs were not the only machine that could be controlled by thought alone. Realistically, any device could be connected to a nervous system and handled in a similar matter. Granted the more complicated a system, the more strain it put on the mind. Ultimately, the more complicated the device, the greater the drift commands will suffer. Mechs or 'rigs', were second only to full stations or battleships for complexity.

The more complicated the system, the greater the drift. The higher the drift, the more commands to the machine were lost, changed, or corrupted. Too much drift and the pilot would be lost, the machine almost becoming an animal in of itself. Taking actions without order, the pilot unable to control what now controlled them.

Ursidains had the worst drift rating of all the races. But that didn't mean they couldn't use these FSCs for their equipment, only that they were limited to 'simple' caterpillar tracked vehicles and merely targeting and firing systems for the largest equipment. The most advanced and highest trained pilots of the ursidain people could just about manage the firing mechanism of a shipbound railgun. They would leave the targeting and other systems to other parts of the crew and would merely manage the weapon's heat management and ammo selection. That was enough to give those crews an edge, but the user of the FSC would become a sickly creature; losing weight and needing to be shaved just so they could have their bodies connected to the system.

It was a well-respected, but short career with a well-paid retirement and medical coverage afterwards, Qik explained. She moved onto the other races and gave examples for them too.

Ssypnos were accomplished fighter pilots, however their mass made them quite vulnerable to gravity flight and rendered them at a disadvantage almost universally when they had to take their own weight into account. Since the smaller the ssypno meant the better the pilot, Qik spared no details when she explained it was the orphans who were selected and pressed into military service on behalf of nobles that made up the vast majority of their pilots and military. They were kept cold and hungry, ensuring they remained small and effective.

Taurian females were awful for their drift, whereas their male counterparts were much better. Their natural distain for violence however, rendered them useless.

"What about your kind? I hadn't even heard of 'lopels'." The young man asked, sat up and grimacing as he felt cold nutrient paste slowly crawl up the tube before disappearing up his nose. He felt the temperature as the gross, grey looking mixture made its way down the tube that emptied out in his stomach. He winced as his stomach protested.

"Mm, no one likes to talk about the lopel in the room. We're mercenaries."

"A whole race of mercenaries? Not a single librarian or doctor?"

"You either pay for your medical or go join the GC. Nobody wants their details in the system. Money means you can travel and eat in their zone, but we wouldn't give up or anonymity."

"So why doesn't anyone talk about you guys?"

"Because we're their dirty little secret. If two of the powers get into a fight, it's public record. If a mercenary guild are brought in to win a fight, that's a private matter."

"You're privateers?"

The brown alien shrugged and scratched blunt claws against her cheek.

"Call me what you like. I'm rich, free and happy."

"So how come you're here? Besides planning on killing me."

"Geckins were about to fight the ssypno. I've already done five sorties, and the sixth one was literally due the next day. I signed, then something happened, and everyone sent all their ships to some backend of nowhere system, calling a pause to the fighting. I'm contracted for a fight, that never happened. I signed because the same thing had happened five times before over the previous five days, how could I know the war was put on pause because of a fancy new species popped up." She grumbled, frowning, and sneering at her misfortune.

"Was the new system called 'Sol'?"

The reaction was a stiffening of the body, and her golden irises flicking up and fixing him with a stare.

"Yeah, sounds about right.

"That was us. Humans. Sorry for the delay." Casper said sarcastically, blinking and laying his head back, mood darkening. From the corner of his eye, he watched the lopel tilt her head, her ears falling to the side before she pushed up off the wall and strutted over to him. In their time together, she'd yet to stay still for more than a few moments. Even so far as to peek beyond the door every so often.

"What are you guys called again?"

"Human as a single. Humans as a plural. Humanity as a species."

"You guys use FSCs where you're from?"

"A guy successfully played a computer game with a subdermal link. That count?"

"Rudimentary, but yes."

"If you're not a fluke, and 'humanity'," she said with finger quotes. "are this low on their drift scales on average? They're going to be useful to every single species out in the stars." Qik promised, turning to sit on the bed. She gave one chuckle that spasmed her body before looking over her shoulder to admit to Casper.

"Even my own company would hire someone with *that* low a drift. Even *with* zero combat experience." She turned away and leant back on her hands, considering something beyond Casper or the room they lay in.

"Okay, so what does low drift do then?" The man asked, feeling more human as time went on. "With no drift or thereabouts?"

"No drift? That rig you were in? When you're plugged in; that's your body now. It can do what you can do. No limitations, no need for stabilisers or wasting CPU on balancing things." She turned her whole body now, lifting a leg onto the bed to face him completely.

"You put in a combat role software package into a rig and stick you in? You're going to be able to identify a weak point, select a suite of methods for capitalising on it and be ready to execute those options in the blink of an eye." Casper blinked as she snapped her fingers.

"Your rig no longer needs to think about itself, your brain will do that for you. Instead, it... and you... can focus on the target." She finished, grinning wickedly, obvious excited at the concept.

"I've never been in a fight before." Casper pointed out. He had zero training and realistically no education from back home either.

"Liar." She shot back flatly, before turning away, leaning back, and gesturing with her hand.

"You fought me. Honestly I didn't bring my Grade One game, I underestimated you and didn't have my sensor suites on." She paused and growled before grinning; her front teeth were larger than the rest of her teeth.

"Make no mistake I'd wipe the floor with you the second time round. So would anyone else... So let me train you."

There was a moment's pause as Casper waited for the second half of the joke, but all the happened was a slow stare from the lopel from over her shoulder. The grin and cool gaze remained as she waited for his answer.

"What? That's stupid! I'm not a fighter! Much less a mercenary!"

"Oh what, you got a promising career elsewhere? You're stuck in the system right now, whether that's geckin or the damn GC. Draw up a contract like mine. A single combat outing, success means you're free to draw up another one, you'll own the rig *and* you'll have enough credits to whore yourself stupid to wherever the next fight is..."

Casper paused, frowning, staring at his hands. He turned over his left one, saying his right still had a needle and tube attached that he didn't want to jostle. The back of his hand had a trio of tiny holes that had scabbed over. It was bright red at the moment, but the rings around each of the dots was already discolouring. He was going to bruise. A quick check and he found similar dots all up his arms.

"I thought you said you were stuck?"

"Until the fight starts up, I take a few pot shots, blow up a bunker or break a refinery and that's the contract complete. I'm not here to wage a war, or even fight a battle. I'm a solution to a problem the geckins have. The second this fight picks back up; I'm done and gone. I can train you between now and then. We get you on a contract, do the first one cheap so they send you with me and bam! Freedom."

"Freedom?"

"Oh yes. You join my guild, my company; and we can get you all set up with your own mech, you then work off that debt. Plus it means my defeat just looks like a failed lesson with the 'New Guy'."

"This is mental."

"I'm not hearing no. I think you'd suit something mobile. Definitely having a big engine, maybe so it can power boosters?"

Him? A merc?

The idea scared him. But it did mean he would need to get back into the rig. Something about that idea stuck. Piloting the mech, just walking around; had been great. It was like a high just for existing. But what if...

"I don't want to die."

"You're not going to. Pilots are rare New Guy, no one in their right mind would kill a pilot. Mechs fire the control pod out the back during critical failure anyway so even if you took a bad hit; your survival is more important that the machine. Friendlies grab you and scoot you back to base."

He wanted to say no. To deny her such a stupid idea. He was a kid! Barely old enough to drink! How the hell was he being told to become a solider? There was silence for a few beats.

"I heard Zeet was already building you a new rig... Looks *fancy*." She drawled.

Casper's eyes glanced up at her, she was still sat there, calm, and relaxed; but grinning from ear to ear as she gazed at him with her intense eyes. She *knew* he *wanted* to get back in.

"What would the first lesson be?" He asked, biting the wiggling bait on the end of her hook.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[wolven91]

Furry anon here again!

Yes, one can be a furry without a fursona. The only real criteria is if you like anthropomorphic animals lol. But the only *actual* one is self-identification, so that still works!

Anyway, have a good day!! May the Alien Fuckery be with you ✨

[wolven91]

Hi!

1. How are you doing today? I hope inspiration and energy aren't too hard to get for you today :3

2. On a scale of 1-10, how much of a furry are you?

Love your stories, keep it up! :333

Hello!

I'm doing alright, thanks! Everything is fine, no major issues so I'm making a point these days to be grateful for that.

How much of a furry am I?

Short answer:

I'm not. Maybe like a 2 or 3? I don't have an issue with furrys, so far the worst thing I've experienced even connected to them was someone trashing on them and being a general prick.

Long answer:

I mean, not much? But it ultimately depends on your definition.

I don't identify as a furry, I don't have a fursona and never really felt the need to make one or have one. Based on what I know, that feels like the deciding factor since I've yet to meet a furry 'human'.

That said, I write very much about anthromorphic animals and having relations with them, so the question becomes, if you dont identify as a furry, does what you write make you more of a furry?

Then of course you got the question of context and what actions make you furry.

Were I not happily married, would I have sex with an alien? Sure! Kick ass. Certified William Ryker over here, where's my alien fucker card? That doesn't make me furry as far as I'm aware.

What if the aliens were live action furrys but from space?

As long as they pass the harkness test, I'm up for getting down.

Does me willing to be friends with, seduce and fuck a furry make me furry?

The philosophical questions of our age.

I reread this and realised this makes me sound mental, but rather than delete and sanitise my ramblings, I'm throwing it into the Tumblr vortex and seeing what happens.

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 4

Casper felt *strong*.

He felt like until now, there had been a fear in the back of his mind. A fear that one day his body would fail him.

But as he reached for the metal shutter door, several meters wide and taller than him, his muscles pulled without hesitation. There was no pain, no pressure as his arms engaged and tore the metal upwards with the ease of lifting a single petal that had fallen from a delicate flower.

Once the shutter was mostly up, it stopped and dented, jammed at an angle, Casper considered it for a moment and mentally shrugged, his arms not being able to make that gesture at the moment.

Ducking under and through the shutter door, the man looked out across a great landscape. Turning to peer left and right, the building he had been in was a featureless concrete slab that showed signs of scorch marks and lumps of the solid material broken and pitted as if shot with a gun.

There were no windows or doors all along the space with the exception of the series of hanger bay doors. But Casper had no interest in those, he was staring at the odd shapes and objects in the distance partially hidden by huge rolling hills and dunes.

Who could stop him now from taking a quick look? He felt *free*. What would have caused him pause before was no longer a concern.

The moment he stepped from the safety of the shutter door, he felt his foot sink into the earth, unsteadying him, making him look down. Casper watched as great mounds of dirt built up around his metal foot, as if he was far heavier than normal. He *was* heavier. Why was he..?

It came rushing back. He was piloting a mech. It was an odd sensation to remember such an important and obvious concept. How could he forget such a thing?

The man straightened and took a breath.

Breathing in the alien world's clean air it satisfied him. It was cool and rich with untainted oxygen. He could taste that there were very few particulates to damage him. He knew information this on a factual level.

The young man breathed in again; he could feel his lungs fill and his heart sing for it. He touched a hand to his chest over his heart, only for a 'clang' to draw his head down.

A metal hand, against a metal chest.

If he could frown, he would have. He settled for his optics to click shut, clean themselves, then click open again.

Why was it so hard to remember who he was inside the machine?

"Casper! You having fun there?" Demanded Zeet inside Casper's head.

[I think I broke the door. Sorry about that.]

A moment's pause.

"Ha! Break all the doors you like, it appears like you're already, ready to go for a stroll?" He sounded completely unfazed by the human's destruction; almost giddy even.

[The air out here is... I don't know how to describe it. Cleaner?]

"Your generator needs oxygen to burn, the one in your chest is only a basic model. Barely enough power to run your current rig, although I have tinkered with it, so it should suffice for what we have planned." Came a smug response from Zeet.

"I suspect the air out there is a better quality than the hanger, what with the enclosed space and multiple generators running." The head engineer explained, again, unbothered by the idea of generators running without significant air flow in an enclosed space.

[I think you're right.]

Casper took another step, for the second time finding his footing unstable. Zeet seemed to anticipate Casper's next question.

"We deliberately use loose dirt in the starting area, the idea is to force new pilots to learn how to adjust and fall without fear of being at the top of a hill or a distance away from rescue."

[I think I'm alright.]

As Casper took more steps, they became more confident. He stopped looking down and looked up, to the horizon where the strange square shapes peeked over the hills.

[What's that?] The human asked, while the mech briefly lifted one of its arms and pointed at the structures before dropping it back down to its side. Why did it move so organically?

"An assault course of sorts, although this would be far into your future as a pilot before you'd go over there. That said, I feel that it would be rather pointless to have you make such progress without letting you find your limits. Why not head over and see what you do?" Suggested the voice.

"This is ill advised. We haven't got nearly enough sensors or monitors to keep track of the relevant information." Came Wren's voice, quiet until now.

"You're telling me you don't have his readouts?"

"Not nearly as many as I'd like or choose! This was meant to be a proof of concept! Not a full-scale exercise!"

"Then you will take a page out of our books and plan for any eventuality in future. Casper! Onwards!" Zeet demanded, dismissing the doctor's comments with an almost audible flick of his hand.

Casper urged himself out into the open fields and over the green grass covered dunes. He wandered over to the distant objects without issue, merely walking up then down the rough terrain without delay. By the time he began to near the objects, the human inside the towering machine had long forgotten that he existed once more. Once he arrived at the strange shapes, the young man discovered that he found that they made up a replica of a large town, or centre of a city.

As he walking amongst the buildings, choosing the centre of a street, he noted there were no vehicles, the shop fronts weren't hollow and the buildings themselves; solid blocks without features. It was strange to be reminded of what the world was supposed to somewhat look like now, as he strolled down the main road of the faux town.

[I thought you said this was an assault course?] Casper sent back to the hanger, not seeing the drones overhead, watching his every move. He gingerly laid a hand on the top of what could have been a low corner shop as he reached a intersection of four roads.

"Well we can certainly put you through your paces if you like?" Came a flat tone. Gone was the confidence or giddy vibe to his words. Casper's optics clicked as he felt a strange sensation of danger creep over him. He looked down at one of his hands and made a fist before relaxing. Unlike his own hands, that had a constant tremble since the loss of Earth, these metal hands were perfectly still. Casper never noticed this however.

Casper had done assault courses on Earth. 'Team building' exercises. He wasn't brawny or even particularly fast. He was clever, but powerful wasn't a word he'd use in any self description.

Until today...

He *felt* powerful. He could trust his legs, trust his arms.

To the camera drones overhead, the basic mech, one that was designed to take punishment, but not excel at much else, tilted its reconnaissance unit that sat atop its shoulders as if to crack it's neck. If it were organic, of course.

[Go for it.]

"Understood." Came the immediate reply before Casper got the profound feeling that his next words were not address to the human. "Qik? You're up."

[Qik?]

"Defend yourself Casper." Came a dispassionate response.

[Wait, what? I thought this was an assault course?]

"Defeat the aggressor. No further communication will be acknowledged or sent." Zeet stated, before the human felt whatever connection that was within Casper's head, closedoff.

'Defend' himself? 'Defeat the aggressor'?!

Was he expected to fight? Casper couldn't fight! He'd never been in anymore more than a scuffle when he was twelve! He stepped away from the corner building and into the centre of the intersection, looking around himself for a threat. There were alleys and smaller roads he could duck down to break line of sight, but he need to know *where* the 'aggressor' was coming from!

Casper blinked, and in his panic, his need to find the threat, he felt his mind suddenly expand past what he could see.

It was as if a new sense had just opened up to him. Like he'd lived his life with his eyes closed and was blind, only to discover now; that he could see. This new sensation was not sight, but Casper could *feel* movement of something large and fast approaching him from the hangers to the south, where he had been only a few minutes before.

Whatever it was, it was big and fast. He could sense it was as big as he was. Nothing like the tiny dots that floated harmlessly above.

Aware of the direction of the threat, Casper ducked, dropping his head low and ensuring he himself couldn't be seen over the tops of any of the lower buildings. Quickly shuffling, the man got off the street and ducked down a side road, scooting further down, almost leaning against the building with his back. He paid no attention to the scrapes and loose concrete dust the metal of his back scratched off the structures.

{What idiot did that moron trick into this game this time?}

It was a genderless statement, devoid of emotion. It wasn't talking, like Zeet over the radio. It was text, and an image of a command line and the words filled in at the front of Casper's mind. The man could feel that he could respond.

[I'm the new guy.]

{Cute. Come out and I'll make this quick.}

[Sure, where are you?]

{Finally, a smart one, I'm coming up the main ingress.}

The young man had no interest in revealing himself. Just because the words carried no tone or emotion did not mean that he was a fool. He could sense the threat, it had crossed the distance from the hangers to the fake-town in a matter of less than a minute, whereas it took him substantially longer. Now though, he could see the pulsing 'blip' in his mind's eye. It was slowly making its way up the centre of the town, truthfully being exactly where it had told him it would be.

{I'm starting to suspect you're thinking you're clever...}

[Why's that?]

{You're hiding.}

[I'm struggling to work the controls. Only just started piloting.]

{I don't like liars 'new guy'}

As he crept around the main road, quickly tip toing across the intersecting main road, and using the alleys and smaller side roads to move around, Casper caught his first glimpse of the threat. It was a mech, but unlike his own; blocky, thick with exposed metal, pistons and wires. This one was sleek, designed for speed, but no less deadly. It reminded him of a sword. The sharp angles, the pointed feet that stabbed into the ground. It had a series of spikes along it's back like boney wings.

The whole thing screamed 'professional', all wrapped up in a red and silver paint job. It was the mech of a main character to Casper's eyes.

It didnt so much as walk or move either, the word that sprang to Casper's mind was 'stalking'. It stalked forwards, it's 'head' a pointed eagle-like structure, turning left to right, obviously scanning for him.

[What makes you think I'm a liar?]

{This is just getting insulting now. I'm the final test 'new guy'. You think they'd put you against me? Before you can even move?}

[Stranger things have happened.]

Casper got no response to his last message, but watched as the pointed head, ducked low and out of sight. He was positioned behind her now, closer to the south, nearer the hangers where she had entered, but he now lost track of her. Casper wasn't a fighter, he had no intention of getting into a brawl and made his way to the edge of the town fully intending on running back to the hangers.

The young man wasn't without some knowledge of how to throw a punch. After a physical altercation in his younger school years, his overly dramatic mother had sent him to self defence classes to stand up to the bullies. Instead of being beaten up in just a school setting, he was summarily beaten up in an official setting instead.

All he'd learnt was howto roll with the punches, literally. Casper never stayed on the ground, that was where 'bad' always ended up 'worse'.

Still crouched, sometimes using his hands against the hardtop of the fake roads to help him move, Casper finally made it to the edge of the town and learnt that it wasn't going to be that easy.

The second part of his mech broke the edge boundary of the faux town, a klaxon sounded along with one of the annoying drones swooping down with a red, flashing light directly over his head.

Casper bolted across the road and practically dived into an alleyway, into the town and away from the alarm, which remained in place. His head poked out from around a corner further into the town to see if the mysterious mech had approached to investigate.

The pointed leg that swung at Casper's head missed by what felt like mere inches, saved only because he flinched at something moving fast and fell backwards, deeper into the alleyway. The assaulting red and silver mech obliterated the plain wall with its kick in a shower of destroyed concrete and rebar; bent and demolished at the sheer force of its strike.

{You're fast.} Came a message.

Casper was up, his fists raised, elbows in. He was in his pocket and ready to protect his head.

The heel kick to his solar plexus sent him backwards, arms outstretched by the sheer force as he flew out of the other end of the alleyway and rolling head over heels into the main road again.

{Not fast enough.}

Casper backward rolled onto his feet, one of the buildings arresting his movement in a jarring thud that stuttered his vision. He didn't think, merely moved as he dived to his left down the main road. The besieged building that he'd lent against only moments ago was already buckled, but the rocket propelled mech that slammed into it with its shoulder, destroyed it in a shower of crumbling dust and materials.

The assaulting mech stomped from the cloud of debris and glared down the main road; its own optic sensors scanning for the new pilot.

The road was empty.

{You know I would have already won this right?} The red and silver mech taunted, stalking forwards, looking left and right, clearing buildings. It was sending the message over an open band, so anyone with ears on could hear it.

[I'm still standing.] Came a similar open frequency message. Qik snarled. She couldn't track or know where the new pilot was, she was working on visuals only.

{They disable my tracking system. To give you the tinest of a chance.}

She was crouched low, clearing corners, making sure the 'new guy' didn't try what she had and kick her recon unit in. Without eyes, it was an automatic win for whoever could see.

[If it's any consolation, I don't think this has a tracking system.]

Qik smirked, cocky son of a bitch. She was going to enjoy breaking him down, bit by-

[Heads up!]

A shadow flickered across the street and Qik span on one foot, swinging her leg round in a perfect roundhouse kick that would cut any mech that was in range behind her in half.

But despite her aiming high, looking to destroy an arm or even knock off the head of the opponent, her kick was too low.

From atop a building, the new mech was halfway through a jump and falling rapidly towards Qik. It was a terrible, stupid idea. Gravity was not friendly with anything as big and heavy as a mech. Only those rigs with jump packs and boosters could consider leaving the ground. But this idiot had climbed a building and had launched itself at her?!

So shocked was she, that this idiot would try such an insane and self-destructive move, Qik couldn't decide how to react. She had literally never seen this before.

That delay was enough.

On his way past, Casper grabbed a hold of the eagle-esque head and held on tight, his metal fingers denting the recon unit casing.

Gravity grabbed him and threw him against her, flipping him over her while he hurtled towards the ground in a mulit-ton mech that landed squarely on its recon unit, destroying into a million tiny, expensive pieces. Qik landed on her back, but immediately lost all visual read outs as her own unit was partislly torn from its housing.

{*What?!*} Qik demanded, unbelieving this idiot could succeed in such a stupid move! This was squidgit-shit!

"What?!" Blurted Zeet, blinking as the human had just defeated, the undefeated mercenary; Qik on his very first jaunt within a single hour of his first mech startup.

[What?] Asked Casper, also blinded and unable to move, but wholly unaware of the shitstorm he had just started.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[wolven91]

Tasty Treat

If you want to get on the good side of an ursidain, cook for them. To say they are 'food motivated' was to describe the universe as 'mildly wide'.

Ursidains would eat a meal to mark your arrival at their home. They'd eat a meal to mark your first evening. They'd test which of you could lift the other, and if an ursidain can lift their guest: it is their job to feed the guest!

Breakfasts were huge affairs, the giant bear-like creatures adored the concept that humans had the saying; 'breakfast is the most important meal of the day'.

That oneoffhand comment from one human guest, complimenting the ursidain delegation, way back at the beginning?

Within one week, every ursidain majority world that had heard of humans, also knew this saying.

This alone was to firmly catapult humanity into the ursidain species', favourite species position.

So when Jonathan had first met with and stayed over at Garsh's home, he'd wanted to return the favour.

There was just one problem.

Ursidains, on average, reached thirteen feet in height.

As Jonathan stood there, glaring up at the cooker top while he could still hear the rumbling snore of Garsh in the other room, he had to come up with a plan on how to approach this.

==0==

Garsh woke shortly before she would have normally.

Her fist-sized leather nose scrunched up and wiggled in a tight circle. Her tongue, moments before lolling out of her mouth, returned to her wide maw whenever moistened it, licked her chops and nose, before sniffing.

Her eyes shot open.

Something smelled *delicious*.

Normally a ponderously slow creature, Garsh rolled out of bed with the speed of an apex predator, her mass rolling and sloshing as she padded out of the bedroom, following her nose.

"Oh you really shouldn't have d-*JONATHAN!!*" She bellowed, her mind lurching from looking forward to eating, to abject fear.

The human was stood on the cooker, with several utensils celotaped together so he could move and flip the crisped squidgit, all the while using a pot lid as a full body riot shield while the fatty meat spat and sizzled.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]

[wolven91]

Drifting - Part 3

The Nerve Suit was skintight and left nothing to the imagination.

Casper had already tried plucking the thin layer of jet black second skin away from himself, but hadn’t been able to get any purchase on it with his covered fingertips. Looking back to the mirror, the only thing exposed was his face and shaved head. The young man grimaced, he’d never been one for hair styles, but cutting off his messy brown curls had been an unpleasent twist that he hadn’t expected when agreeing to this experiment. Glancing down in the mirror, he instinctively covered himself, the suit rendered him genderless at a glance, but it was still rather obvious after more than a passing glance.

“Casper?” Came a voice and the now telltale sound of robotic legs whirring and walking towards the room the human was stood in. He glanced back at his normal clothes, then at the mirror again.

“In here.” The young man called out. The sounds of the robotic legs go louder until he saw Wren appear in the mirror in the doorway to the room. She was atop her bipedal robotic platform that most geckins used around anyone larger than their single foot in height.

“They’re all ready for you. Last chance to run without anyone seeing.” The foot tall green geckin offered without emotion in her voice. Neither judging, nor leading him in a certain way. Casper suspected that she had her own horse in this race, but out of everyone who the young man had spoken to; she’d been the most warm.

“This is going to be fun.” Casper began, convincing himself as much as her as he turned and, whilst trying to ignore that he was very much on display to her, she matched his pace as he marched toward the hanger. Speed and stride wasn’t a problem for the geckin, at least not for their platforms. They could outrun Casper at the push of a button, completely ignoring they’d outlast him with the fusion cores that powered them.

“It’s certainly going to be interesting, but why would you use the word ‘fun’?” Wren asked calmly, keeping the conversation light, but still obviously monitoring the man. The small green geckin had become his doctor and psychologist of sorts. Carefully watching him and seemingly keeping the more extreme ‘Zeet’, the head engineer, in check.

“Well, we have media and fantasy stories about piloting mechs. Whole franchises that are built around the concept of bipedal or multi-legged technicals. Apparently, I’m living the dream, and I didn’t even need to train for it.” Casper shrugged, feeling oddly disconnected from the current events.

 

“You understand this is unlikely to be easy right?” The small green alien gently pointed out. A glance down at her and Casper noted how her neck ruffle was pulled tight against her. He gave her a wane smile and nodded.

“Oh yes, Zeet has explained at length that it’ll be like learning to walk again. Moving an arm or leg on its own, is its own thing. Even all four limbs is another level, but I’m going to be controlling a thirty-foot mech, dealing with its balance, its systems, everything.” Casper grinned and chuckled as they entered the hanger proper, and the noise went up significantly. Casper had to raise his voice somewhat to ensure Wren could hear him, she had to practically shout back at him.

“He made a big deal that I would struggle to balance it without a tail.” The human said with a smirk.

Wren grinned a sharp grin.

Taking a moment to look up at the giant machine, Casper could only be impressed.

The mech itself was a rough translation of a human body. Two legs, two arms, a torso and a head on top. They had toyed with the idea of a more mobile machine, with digitigrade legs or even giving him equipment for his first outing, but Wren had been present and argued them all down. In the end, it was her pointing out, not for Casper’s safety, but the cost of breaking or damaging complicated equipment if the first piloting effort failed.

No point in having a fancy jetpack if a panicked human trigged the jets and crashed into the ceiling, rending the bay unusable for the foreseeable future.

So as Casper gave the giant bipedal vehicle a critical eye, he noted that it was surprisingly thin. The legs were slim, several meters wide to a normal human, but compared to the rest of the mech it felt like they were too small to lift such bulk. Likewise, the arms were malnourished, obviously barebones. He could see pistons and wires. They were all strapped down and had metal plates protecting them in places, but this mech was not designed for anything other than an experiment.

A prototype. Saying their true mechs often looked like geckins; digitigrade legs for explosive speed and massive mechanical tails for balance. Casper had to guess that this was the first, truly humanoid machine they’d made… and only in the short space of time too.

Their industry capability was frightening.

“He was quite upset that he had to remove the tail section of the mech. No point in adding parts and complexity for the first step.” She pointed out, that wasn’t something Casper had heard yet. Interesting. The next time Casper spoke, it was to Zeet in the form of a short, sharp ‘good luck’ and nod.

“You look ready, like a real geckin pilot.” The blue geckin pointed out, gesturing to the skintight Nerve Suit from his position on his own mobile platform.

“Just a bit taller.” Casper grinned, but realised he made a faux par with the immediate frown form Zeet. “Sorry. Nerves. The suits pretty tight, I didn’t realise it would be like this.” The young quickly said, running a gloved hand over his stomach. Thankfully, this change in topic was enough to remove the dark look on the blue geckin’s face as they rejoined the conversation again. He had to remember that geckins were touchy about their height…

“Yes, well the Nerve Suit is needed to ensure the body has as little feedback from your true body as possible. It should be plenty light as it’s only a pawful of atoms thick.” Casper pulled a face and rubbed his fingertips together. He felt pressure, but not sensation other than how slick his grip was.

“You ready to climb in? Remember, we’re just calibrating. Remember; don’t be disappointed if you can’t run yet, all we’re looking for is movement. Wiggle the feet, twitch the fingers. Look up and down.” Zeet rambled, nervous all of a sudden at the prospect of the human experiment. He continued to run through a check list of basic movements.

“I understand Zeet, I’ll do my best for you.” Casper promised, unsure if he could reach out and touch the shoulder of the geckin, or if that would be too far. Was he supposed to be the nervous one? With everything going on with humanity, it seemed impossible that they would allow anything to happen to the young man. Like walking along a tourist bridge and it has a glass floor; this was all simulated danger, not real danger. Right? Casper turned to the mech itself and headed towards the team of technicians who were waiting for him. They were crowded around the open hatch where Casper would climb in like a pack of scavengers waiting for their prey to fall over.

The clamber into the pilot chamber wasn’t the issue, nor was the coffin-like pod that required Casper to lay down with his arms crossed over his chest, it was the needles. The pod pressed in on his legs, hips and shoulders, his arms were still free for the moment, but would be locked into place when the sarcophagus’s lid came down into place. The inside of the casket was filled with a gel that had given way by several inches as he sat down, then shuffled himself in. If he was struck by anything, or more likely; fell over, the gel would absorb the impact to his physical body. It would also swell, once he was sealed, securing him in place.

“Legs in place!” Called one of the techs as they fit a breather over Casper’s nose and mouth.

Then, after a moment, Casper was stabbed.

Along the various rivers and paths that followed his nervous system, hundreds of hair thin needles all stabbed into him like a wave of bee stings, causing the human to grunt and flinch. The shoulder locks stopped him from moving too much as the techs gave curt nods that all was well. Then a series of five needles thrust into and along the young man’s spine and he lost all feeling of his body.

His eyes snapping open and gasping at the sudden pain and of a fear that something had gone wrong! He couldn’t move!

Zeet appeared in his vision, next to two of the techs that were disconnecting tubes from the mech itself.

“You’re good. First disconnect from your nervous system is always the worst they say. We’re about to give up control on the mech, you’ll be in the dark for a few minutes, but that’s it. Blink twice if you understand.” Asked the blue geckin, staring down at the human. Without a voice, the young man, blinked twice.

“Outstanding, good human. Lets get this closed and submerge him. Casper? You’ll hear me over the radio. Follow my instructions. You’re going to be seeing the world from a whole new perspective.”

Casper tried to nod but was reminded again that he couldn’t move at all. He just laid there.

Flat on his back, from the perspective of a corpse in a grave, looking up at the techs and Zeet, as if they were mourners about to throw the first handfuls of dirt upon him.

Then the lid of his casket slid closed and sealed against him. He felt pressure on his body as the gel filled casket embraced him and then all was still. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t see or hear. He couldn’t smell anything. His body wanted to twitch, to move and kick. But even when he tried to test the limits of the pod, of the gel, he couldn’t feel anything. He couldn’t even tell if he was moving!

Panic was rather rapidly growing within his chest as he lay there, alone in a sensationless void.

Was this what death felt like?

“-asper? Casper can you hear me?” Zeet’s voice appeared in his head.

He tried to instinctively respond, to say ‘[Yes]’, but immediately felt and knew it was pointless, his [paralyzed throat and mouth meant talking was out].

“Excellent! We’ve got your feed here. You don’t need your throat anymore.” Came the excited reply.

[What?]

“You’re connected to the machine’s transponder. You talk, or try to talk like normal, and we will read you.” Zeet explained, Casper could hear the excitement in his voice.

[Is everything okay?]

“It’s going fantastic! We literally just turned this system on and you’re already communicating with us. You’re a natural, human! You ready for more systems?”

With nothing better to do, Casper thought of his reply.

[Sure, let’s do it.]

“Alright, give me a minute.”

It was a strange method to talk. Casper could… feel? The correct way to communicate. It wasn’t his unprocessed thoughts being transmitted. He could feel what he was sending to Zeet, like he was approving every syllable. What information the human wanted to send, was sent, and nothing more. There was no tone, no emotion. His words, thoughts, sentences, were words on a screen.

Light appeared, briefly blinding Casper, who squinted, and the hangar immediately came into focus. His head was drooped forward and for the most part he could only see the floor that had been directly in front of the mech itself. There were geckins down there all running to and fro. Focusing on one, Casper’s vision rapidly zoomed in and he could see each and every individual scale on the yellow geckin tech’s face, before Casper relaxed his eyes a fraction and his vision pulled out slightly. The geckin tech monitored a console that sat beneath the tower where Casper had entered, seemingly unaware he was being watched.

“Okay, we’ve turned on your external cameras. Do you feel any new sensations? Any sort of… connections that you can access?” Zeet asked carefully.

[I can see.]

“Yes, we want you to access those so you can see out of the cameras attached to the recon unit.”

[No Zeet, I can see. There’s a yellow geckin at my feet.]

“You can- Hoy! Who’s below us?” Zeet shouted, Casper could tell it was loud, but the radio wasn’t being ‘heard’ in the sense that the human wasn’t using his ‘ears’ to hear the radio. He was… understanding it without the need for such things.

As Casper watched, the yellow geckin reacted, looking up and waving his arms up at someone before shrugging.

“You’re right! You’ve already… Hah! Okay then. This is beyond what I was hoping for. I think we can jump a few steps.”

“Sir, this is ill-advised.” Wren voice said, coming over the radio loud and clear.

“You’re here as a courtesy doctor, you’re welcome, but now as a courtesy, you will not interfere with my work.”

[What’s happening?]

“We’re going to disconnect you from our power and control. You will have full control of the mech and its systems.”

[You said that was dangerous?]

“For a normal pilot yet. But your aptitude for this was off the charts. I think it’s time to jump a few levels.”

There was a flurry of activity as the geckins who were milling about at Casper’s feet suddenly began disconnecting from the various consoles and began disappearing from the edge of the human’s vision. He could see the metal platforms that counted as the mech’s feet, but aside from that and the bottom of the tower, there was just the hanger floor.

“Alright, we’ve got everyone to a safe distance. In a few seconds, we’re passing control of the whole mech to yourself. We won’t be in control of anything. You ready?”

[As I’ll ever be.]

“Good. Hand off in 3… 2… 1…”

The change was sudden and startling. Immediately, Casper’s legs buckled as his knees weren’t prepared to take the sudden weight of his body once more. His arms flung forward as the ground rushed up to greet him, but he stopped himself from bouncing his head off the concrete by completing a half press-up.

There was too much, too fast. His body felt, stiff; tight. Like he’d been in a cramped position for so long that his whole body was sluggish.

It was too much. Casper felt lightheaded, as if he was suffocating! His heart was pounding in his chest so fast that it was humming! A giant metal hand reached up and clutched at his metal torso, sparks flying as the two metals clashed against each other.

[Something’s wrong!]

“It’s fine, just activate your intakes.” Zeet ordered calmly, despite the panic rising.

“He’s panicking, eject him.”

“No, he just needs to start up the intakes. Casper? Your reactor needs air flow, active the intakes.”

“Power it down Zeet! His vitals are spiking.”

[I don’t. I can’t. My chest feels tight!]

The human was panicking, he could feel something was wrong, like he was running on empty, like he needed to close his eyes and lay down. It felt like he was dying.

“Casper! Batteries are running low, active the intakes!”

The words were less clear now, like his mind was swimming. The young man felt for the first time since getting into the machine his vision failed, like he was blinking despite not needing to before now.

Wren’s voice broke through the roaring and nonsense that Casper was being bombarded by.

“Breathe Casper! Take a breath!”

The human sucked in air as deeply as he could shocked that he had forgotten such a normal thing.

From outside, the vents that lined the pectoral area of the mech slammed open with great turbines that sucked in the vital oxygen needed for the reactor that sat in the centre of the mech’s chest. It burped to life and the exhausts along the back of the machine began to spew heat and a cough of black smoke. To the geckin engineers, the ever-pleasant noise of a system booting up to full power whined to life as the human mech heaved in an oddly biological movement.

There were no ‘lungs’ built into the machine, only vents, fans, and a reactor to power it all, but the way it was gyrating, put only the image of someone who had been suffocating gulping in air into their minds. The mech was currently on one knee, the other leg folded to support its weight. One arm was placed on the ground and the second was still touching the chest plate, scratching the bare, unpainted metal.

[I’m okay.]

“’Breathe’ doctor?” Snapped Zeet, not addressing or not seeing the text on his console that Casper had sent.

“He’s not trained on the technical specifications of a machine. His point of reference is what he can feel. What he knows.” Replied Wren, defensively, but not backing down.

“He said they had media of mechs, that it was a common fantasy. What popular media doesn’t have common sense specs?!” Barked Zeet’s voice.

“He’s not a geckin, he’s human. The importance of certain subject will be different.” She replied, still sturdy in her observation.

The voices in Casper’s head continued to bicker as the world stopped swimming and he slowly raised his head to look around. He felt less sluggish now, like he had started to shake the cobwebs from his bones and movement was easier, as if he was awake again. He felt strong. Fast. As if his body not just wouldn’t fail him; but couldn’t.

== 0 ==

To the outside, whilst Zeet and Wren continued to argue the toss, the techs watched as the giant mech’s recon unit raised up and scanned the hanger. With a great heave, one of the legs raised the body up in a single smooth movement before the second leg straightened and held the giant mech upright and proud.

The mechanical hands, simple things, were raised as the cameras of the recon unit that sat atop the mech inspected them, as if seeing them for the first time. This was more than any of the techs had expected. New pilots barely got their radios working after the first hour, let alone movement. Why was it so… biological in its movements?

“Sir?” Called the head technician, up at the two geckins that were still arguing over utilizing the correct terminology in a professional setting and pointedly ignoring the several hundred-ton mech that was now moving around in a manner that was thought impossible for the timeline.

The mech took a single step forward, then a second.

“Sir?!” Shouted the head tech again, more urgently now.

Thankfully, Zeet and the good doctor paused their debate to look round, only to realize the mech was no longer where they left it.

It was currently headed towards the great metal shutter that blocked the outside world from the hanger. Beyond the shutter was the proving grounds, where pilots that had finally fully integrated with their mechs would prove that they were ready for furthering the geckin interests.

[r/WolvensStories]

[Ko-Fi]