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Aida stood on her toes to bridge the gap between scaffold and cockpit, feeling the rivets beneath her arm as she leaned to address the pilot within.

“You sure you have to do this, Dolmayan?”  She yelled over the din.  Typical hangar fare—engines muddled with dozens of welding torches, sparks spraying from skeletal machines in various states of disrepair, pilots barking at engineers across grated walkways.  The metal of her mentor’s Armored Core was still cool in its idle state.

“Absolutely sure,” he scoffed a little and smacked the side of his AC.  “But don’t worry, Little One.  This baby’s brand new!  It’ll get me through anything.”  Aida examined the worn steel and mismatched components her mentor had strapped himself into.

“Oh yeah, real ‘brand new’ with its last-gen parts.  You just got this thing and it’s practically falling apart already!”  Dolmayan chuckled and held up a hand to guard himself from her words.

“Since when do you know so much about BAWS?  The boys down at the factory may be knuckleheads, but they know what they’re doing.”  His expression turned grim.  “Either way, I wasn’t exactly spoiled for choice.  The way the Institute’s been eying us lately, this’ll be the last reliable gen for a while.  My ASTGHIK will live.”  Despite the new upgrade, he gazed at his AC as if it were a lifelong lover.  For an unaugmented human, Dolmayan had an almost…spiritual connection with his machine.

“She put you up to this, didn’t she?”  Aida tapped her fist against the side of the cockpit.  Thump.  Thump.  A few months prior, Dolmayan had begun hearing a voice in his head.  Too much Coral abuse, probably.  Thump.  Aida didn’t care if Dolmayan’s “friend” was real or not, though.  She’d seen this kind of nervous excitement before: the energy of someone leaving home with a purpose, knowing they may never return.  Thump.

“Little One,” Dolmayan said as he rested his calloused hand over hers to quiet it, “Seria can be trusted.  I promise.  Ever since I first saw her, my connection with the Coral has become so…strong.  She knows so much, she has to be real.  I know you worry, but there’s no other explanation.”  A light flashed yellow at the edge of her vision.  A monotone voice stated that the catapult was primed—60 seconds to departure.

“I’m 22 years old, you can stop calling me that.”

“But you’re still so little!”  Dolmayan chuckled, raising the massive hand of his new AC.  “See?  Look how easy it is to move you around.”  The joints were cold against her flesh, its grip gentle and steady as he lifted her off the platform and set her down behind the clearance line.  Finger joints whirred as they unclasped her.  Another flash.  30 seconds.  “I know things haven’t been easy since your mother passed, Aida.  But you’re right.  You’re a grown woman now.  There are some things you just need to experience for yourself.”  Aida winced.  Dolmayan wouldn’t end up like her mother.  He had more practical experience; she’d been a racing pilot, not a fighter.  Aida found herself worrying regardless.  The light turned green.  She watched in silent frustration as the elevator lifted the ASTGHIK into position.

“Please, just promise me you’ll be okay.”

“It’s a survey mission, Aida!  You have nothing to worry about.  And besides,” he strapped a clear mask over his face with the efficiency of a lifelong doser, filling his lungs with waves of scarlet light.  “I’m invincible!”

The hatch closed.  The engine roared to life.  The catapult clicked as its steam cylinders engaged, and the cacophony of a launch filled Aida’s ears as her mentor rocketed into the Rubiconian skyline.  Exhaust fumes assaulted her eyes and nostrils.  She coughed, wiped her face, and glanced at the catapult one last time.  Dolmayan was gone.

–

Muted colors whipped past in a blur as she hurtled through piles of shipping crates.  Too slow.  Massive fans rattled at the end of the track to create an artificial wind, pressing down on her light AC.  The stabilization boosters sputtered as she adjusted her angle to carve through it better.  Good thing she had this course memorized.  She veered to the left.  Her opponent shrunk in her monitor as he slowed for the upcoming hairpin turn.  Perfect, Aida thought, accelerating. That was the thing about ACs: they weren’t built to mimic ship-racing fundamentals.  She’d heard one of those Institute scientists mention it before—Core Theory.  An AC enhanced the human form, surpassing the limitations of our delicate selves.  Most importantly, when they got damaged, they could be repaired for cheaper than the victor’s earnings.  She slammed mechanical fingers into the barrier crate, the screech of metal-on-metal piercing through the engines’ roars.  A finger snapped.  She whipped around the corner, grabbing the other side of the crate for leverage as the whole thing shifted under the force.  Wind to her back.  She leaned into it and soared through the turn.  A pole rushed toward her.  She twisted and kicked off it to align herself before boosting through the finish line.  She smirked as her opponent barely came into view behind her.  That oughta cover the repairs.  Aida threw open the hatch and yanked her helmet off, hair knotted with sweat.  Racing took her mind off things, but it was a fleeting relief.  Two days had passed since Dolmayan abandoned her.  She hadn’t heard a word from him since.  She flipped her hair out of her eyes before shaking hands with her opponent.

“Our ACs are identical,” he sputtered, “You on Coral or somethin’?  How the hell are you cornerin’ like that?”  On Coral?  Aida chuckled and patted him on the shoulder.

“Just get better!”  She winked, tossing her helmet onto a hook.  They started announcing her victory over the loudspeaker, but she was already out the door.

Her apartment sat on the edge of Grid 135, its only window facing the monochrome terrain of Rubicon’s surface below.  A ground city lay beneath it, all flat edges and uniform concrete broken by an occasional plume of black smoke.  Snow-blanketed mountains rolled below the vibrant sky, contrasting the ripples of Coral flowing across the horizon.  A beautiful view, though perhaps she didn’t appreciate it as much as she should have.

The door’s lock disengaged with a click as she scanned her thumbprint, and a robotic voice chimed to welcome her home.  Her brother would be in his room as always, tinkering away on his project.  She barged through his door without knocking.

Oscar sat cross-legged on the floor, a screw sticking out of his mouth.  He started and whipped his head around as the door hit the wall.  “God Aida you thcared the hell out of me!  You have to thtop doing that!”  Oscar was eight years older than Aida, but thanks to his short height and years of Coral use, he looked around the same age.  His greasy raven hair ran down to his waistline, and it looked like he hadn’t shaved in a couple of weeks.  He plucked the screw from his mouth and affixed it to the barrel of the massive assault rifle in front of him.

“How’s work coming along?” she asked.  A genuine question, but she found herself distracted, eyes flicking back to the front door.

“Slow as ever.  But he’s gettin’ there!  Isn’t that right, Darron?”  He ran his hand along the gun, the body of which stretched nearly seven feet to the other side of the room.  “Once this AC comes together, we’ll be able to hop from Grid to Grid with Dolmayan again.  You know the old man’s been getting restless.  But for now, I’ve gotta run this baby down to the yard.  Grab a side?”

Aida lifted the enormous stock.  It was heavy, but this was far from the first time they’d done this.  Oscar shouldered the barrel and maneuvered it out the front door before they made their way back toward the catapult platform.  A few people stopped to comment on her brother’s handiwork, but Aida found her mind wandering back to her mentor’s parting words: There are some things you just need to experience for yourself.

With a final effort, they heaved the rifle onto a forklift.  Oscar’s eyes shone as he looked up at the tetrapod AC.  It sported an Elcano core—modified by doser engineers to include a rear passenger seat—before the entire assembly slotted onto mid-weight quadlegs.  The extra load capacity had allowed him to attach loader MT arms, with a massive machine gun already mounted on the left and a single-missile launcher suspended above each shoulder.  Her brother’s pride and joy towered above them, an amalgamation of low-end parts from every manufacturer imaginable.

“Can you help lock ‘im into place?”  He called down, hooking his arms into steel tracer cages to gain partial control of the AC as one of its hands reached forward to grip the rifle.  Aida nodded distractedly and got to work, setting a heavy pin into the knuckle joints and securing it.  Muscle Tracer arms had to be controlled manually, so this would grant Oscar full use of his hand in the cockpit without needing to grip the gun constantly.  Aida frowned.

“Hey, Oscar?”  He paused at her tone, looking down over the lip of the core.

“Yeah, what’s up?”

“It’s about Dolmayan.”  Worry flashed across her brother’s face for a moment, but he hid it well.  He hopped over the edge and clambered down the forklift without lowering it.  Aida dropped down with him before continuing.  “You know that voice he’s been hearing?”

“Seria?”  Damn, that was fast.

“Yeah, her.  He says she sent him on this mission.”  Oscar paused and chewed his lip for a moment.  Then he steeled himself and met her eyes.

“He’s lying to you.  Or rather, he’s not telling you the full truth.”  He leaned in, speaking under his breath.  “She wants him monitoring Coral levels near Institute City.  They’re up to something, we just don’t know what.”  Aida narrowed her eyes, shooting a glance back at the catapult.  The Rubicon Research Institute.  Her father volunteered for one of their augmentation “experiments” years ago.  Then, her mother had taken it upon herself to rescue him.  The Institute brought life to this planet, and they had no qualms about taking it away.  She blinked hard, scattering the memory.

“So you believe him then?  You think he talks to ghosts?”  Her brother smirked.

“There’s so much about the Coral we don’t understand.  It’s difficult to describe to someone who hasn’t dosed before.  But for what it’s worth, yes.  I believe him.”  A silence hung between them for just longer than comfortable.  Aida fidgeted with the seam in her pocket, then grew still.

“Show me.”

Oscar’s smile widened.

–

The worn joints of the AC creaked as the catapult elevator locked it into place.  Aida adjusted the microphone on her headset before clicking off the mute switch.  “You sure he’ll get us down to the surface?”  A crackle sounded in her ear as Oscar fiddled with his mic, but the voice that came through was not his.

“Catapult primed.”  60 seconds to departure.

“Oscar?”  Her voice cracked a little.  Oscar reached an arm around his headrest, flicking a switch to join himself with the machine.  Thin strips of padded steel sealed themselves over his spine.  A puff of air as needles pierced his flesh from the small of his back to the base of his neck.  He shivered, and his AC shivered with him.  Click.  A long pause.

“Sorry, I was muted.  What was the question again?”  Aida took a deep breath to calm her nerves as the light flashed once more.  30 seconds.

“Will we be able to reach the surface in this AC?”  Her hands shook.  She sat on them.

“Oh shit, I totally forgot to attach the thrusters…”

“Are you fucking serious?”  She took a frantic look behind them.  The steel wall of the AC greeted her, and the elevator began lifting into position.

“Nope, not at all.  You might want to look forward, though.”  She whipped her head back around.

“You’re such an asshole sometimes, I hope you know that.”

“Believe me, I do.”  The boosters ignited.  The g-force slammed into Aida as the catapult launched them off, accelerating fast enough for her vision to blur.  The sky opened before them, ripples of crimson Coral whipping past the monitors on all sides.  Her stomach dropped as they began to lose altitude.  Oscar let his AC fall for just longer than he should have before reigniting the boosters and climbing in a wide arc.  He laughed maniacally, peaking the microphone.  Aida winced, but she couldn’t help but laugh with him.

“Holy shit Oscar you actually did it!”  The weight of his AC shifted to one side as they banked out of the launch area, then evened out as the legs extended to hover in place.  It wasn’t as maneuverable as her racing AC, but the weight added a certain finality to its movements, sending her heart into her throat.  Her brother turned slightly in his seat, grinning from ear to ear.

“Watch this.”  He began flipping switches in front of him.  The interior lights cut off.  The generator hummed as text flashed across the monitor.  Main System: Activating Combat Mode.  Oscar pointed, and the AC’s arm lifted with him, the massive assault rifle aimed at a dark spot on the surface below.  Aida squinted before she felt the weight shift below her again, this time orienting the machine face-down.  She let herself lean wholly into the restraints.  It was in his hands, now.  Her stomach dropped as they began to fall.  Faster.  Faster.

“Oscar?”  The boosters engaged.  Aida screamed.  The horizon stretched to the edges of her vision, mountains rising to meet them as they rocketed straight for the cave mouth below.  Oscar cackled like a mad doser.  He yanked his arms down and reoriented the legs, causing the whole AC to list backward.  Aida’s head hit the seat as the lower boosters fired once again.  They slowed just enough before the feet hit the ground with a series of lopsided jolts.  Oscar undid his restraints and switched his mic back on.

“How about that?”  Aida sat frozen, pale-faced, her veins pumping with adrenaline.  Then, she started to laugh.  She laughed until tears formed in her eyes before she managed to recover some semblance of sanity.

“That was the scariest experience I’ve had in a while,”  she said, wiping an eye with her finger.  “Can we do it again?”  Oscar slotted the MT cages around his arms into thin channels on each side.  They unlatched, and he reached a freed hand around his headrest to detach the spinal control unit.  He jumped, spinning around so his knees hit the seat as he faced her.

“I’ve got an even better idea.”

Moments later, she found herself at the front of the cockpit.  Oscar clambered up one of the front legs before hopping onto the core to give directions.  He had to dangle upside-down over the monitors due to his height.

“Relax your arms, they should naturally fall into the cages,” he said, pointing.  His hair fell into the cockpit, but he tossed it behind him to get it out of the way.

“Are you sure about this?”  Aida said, “I’ve never piloted a tetrapod before…”  She did as he suggested though, the tracer cages snapping into place around her upper arms and forearms.

“Oh, it won’t be too different from those racing units on the ground,” Oscar replied.  “It’s not until you start flying that it gets weird.  You’ll be fine!”  Aida moved her arms a bit.  It felt sluggish using her “real” arms for this, but to her surprise, she encountered very little resistance.  It seemed not all of the cords had been designed to transmit signal.  She ran her fingers along one of the larger ones, feeling under the braided jacket.  These served as soft housings for hydraulic suspension arms, supporting the cages’ weight and allowing for fluid movement.  Movement which translated directly to the AC without noticeable latency.  She hummed her approval, lowering the arm.  Oscar ducked as it swung over his head, then chuckled.  “Alright, let’s get you hooked up to the SCD.”  He hopped over her headrest to land in the rear seat before flipping the switch behind her.

The steel strips, just larger than the width of her spine, extended forward in a snake-like motion.  The padding compressed against her back as a pump began running somewhere to the left of her head, creating a seal.  With a puff of air, the needles began inserting themselves.  The SCU’s needles were stored in sanitation chambers and coated with a numbing agent before each use, so the experience wasn’t entirely unpleasant.  They pierced Aida’s spine as a shiver ran down her back.  Then her nervous system expanded.  Not a complete transfer of consciousness like augmented humans experienced, but…she had four new legs.  Aida smiled, sending a signal to them, and they shuffled beneath her.  It felt as natural as walking.

“Hold up, hold up! Let me strap in first!” Oscar said with a laugh, lowering the hatch on top of them.

“C’mon,” Aida fussed.  “Let’s find some Coral!”

They crept through the cavern.  It had been bored out by the first settlers on Rubicon to raise mealworms, massive Coral-eating invertebrates that provided sustenance to the Grid colonies.  Aida kept her arms tucked to each side to make sure they didn’t hit the breeding pods on the walls as they narrowed.  She walked the AC past several mealworms, gorging lazily on Coral vents below human-sized walkways on each side of the tunnel.

“I remember when Dolmayan first took me here,” Oscar reminisced through his headset.  “Lot less ‘worms back then, but they shouldn’t be able to reach our spot.”

“Lot more mouths to feed now, though,”  Aida replied.  She poked at a mealworm with the barrel of Oscar’s new gun, and it rolled over playfully before latching on with all eighteen of its arms.  She pulled back, not confident that she wouldn’t crush the poor thing in her inexperience with the tracer cages.  They continued walking down the tunnel for several minutes before Oscar called over the microphone for her to stop.

Aida pivoted the AC in place by shuffling the quadlegs beneath her, rotating it to line up with an extended portion of the grated walkway.  She lifted the hatch, sliding the MT cages into their housings as they unlatched.  Then, she reluctantly flicked the switch to release her connection.  Needles withdrew from her spine, and she found herself back in the frailty of a human body.  She sighed.  Oscar hopped out of his seat in excitement.

“C’mon, Aida!”  He yelled, “It’s just up ahead!”  He bounded out of the cockpit and onto the walkway, then took off at a light jog into a dim tunnel.  Aida stretched, then pushed herself out of her seat to follow.

This offshoot twisted further into the ground.  It was too small for a mealworm, let alone an entire AC, so they proceeded on foot until the tunnel opened a short distance later.  About as wide as her bedroom in their apartment, the cavern had multicolored striations along the walls where minerals had run down.  They were suspended on a walkway in the center of the chamber, which seemed to have eroded over time via the shallow pool of water below them.  It smelled faintly sweet—unfiltered Coral.  Natural vents lined the walls and ceiling, tiny volcanoes emitting steady streams of crimson into the room.  It seemed to collect along the top of the cave before being vented off again into the porous rock above.  Oscar grabbed Aida’s wrist.  He pulled her along the pathway, guiding impatiently to one of the vents on the left.

“Strange, they’re usually a lot more active than this…”  He slid a bottle-like device back into his pack.  “Guess we’re going straight from the source,” he said with a smirk, then knelt, inhaling the ripples of Coral through his nose.  He closed his eyes and sat against the wall, leaning his head back as he exhaled.  Aida watched him silently for a moment, trying to judge his reaction.  He seemed content.  His usual energy had subsided a bit, and he still smiled softly.  It almost looked like he’d fallen asleep.  Aida shrugged, then knelt next to him to try it herself.  It felt like breathing in steam, a soothing heat filling her lungs.  She closed her eyes as she continued to inhale, waiting for that same feeling to hit her that she’d seen across her brother’s face.  Someone began shaking her shoulder.

“Whoa, Aida, chill out!”  Oscar yelled.  “That’s enough!”  Aida opened her eyes and coughed suddenly, a bit of light emitting from her mouth.

“What?”  Her voice sounded slightly deeper for some reason.

“That hit was massive, you might wanna sit down…”  Oscar chuckled, helping her to lean against the wall.

“But I didn’t feel-”  Warmth.  Warmth spread from her chest as if she’d drunk coffee without waiting for it to cool.  It spread through her neck and into her head, settling around her eyes and cheeks.  A euphoric rush shot through her as she laughed, leaning her head back against the stone wall.  The Coral above her danced.  Ripples turned to waves, forming intricate patterns across the rough-hewn ceiling.  Brilliant geometry spread out in the air before her.  Her senses felt…heightened, and she could see sparks swirling in whispers of wind around them.  She turned to look at her brother.  He was already glancing her way, a grin plastered on his face.

“Pretty good, huh?”  He said, laughing along with her.  She watched as he held his hand in front of his face, slowly turning it to examine the lines on his palm.  Aida did the same.  She was alive.  Of course she was.  But every part of her was alive.  Her skin breathed softly in time with her lungs, and as she moved her fingers, they responded instantly.

“Slap me.”  She blurted out.  Oscar turned from his hand with a quizzical expression.

“Why?” he said.  Then, before she could respond, his hand flew toward her with blinding speed.  She yelped.  Yet she felt nothing.  When she looked down, she’d stopped his wrist just inches away from her face.  He pulled it free with a knowing smirk.

“Increased reaction time,” she said softly, pushing herself to her feet, “and a heightened sense of balance.”  Oscar nodded.

“Plus an extended lifespan, a delayed kick of energy, and…” he looked up at the twirling patterns of light above them.  “A whole new way of looking at the world.  The only downside is a little bit of chemical dependency.”

Aida watched the patterns with him.  “No wonder Rubicon became such a hotspot this far from the Jupiter system.  And to think we have an infinite supply of the stuff…”  She glanced down at the vent again.  Maybe I could try just a little more.  Except the vent was empty.  She tapped Oscar on the shoulder.

“Hmm?”

“Is that normal?”  She asked.  Oscar followed her gaze, then furrowed his brow.

“No, it isn’t.  That vent should’ve connected to a massive well below.  If it’s drying up, we’ll need to find a new feeding ground for the mealworms until they can get a vacuum chamber in here…”  Aida glanced at the other vents.  A smaller one still emitted a faint stream of Coral, but it gave out as soon as she looked.  The rest were already empty.

“We should get back to the Grid and let the survey teams know,”  she finally said. Oscar looked more curious than concerned, so she didn’t worry about it much.  Besides, she felt great. Her brother grinned again.

“Yeah, we probably should.  Wanna fly us back?”  A part of her protested.  That part of her was boring.

“Hell yeah I wanna fly us back!”

Main System: Activating Combat Mode.  Aida smiled as the needles pierced her spine, preparing for the feeling of her nervous system extending.  Instead, she became the AC.  She still felt the SCU against her back, but she could move as naturally as she breathed.  She could’ve sworn she felt a sensation in her arms as well, even though she had no direct connection with them.  Weird.  She turned on comms to ask Oscar if he was ready.

“-vacuate Rubicon as soon as possible.  I repeat, all Grid residents are to get to a launch pad and evacuate Rubicon as soon as possible.”  Dolmayan’s voice.  Oscar sat motionless behind her.  Aida jerked into action, switching the channel to establish a direct link.

“Dolmayan?  What’s going on?”

“Aida?  Is that you?  Where are you?”  She’d never heard him like this before.  Panicked.  Some sort of interference crackled in her headset, obscuring his voice further.

“On the surface!  Oscar’s here too.”  She turned to look at her brother, but the SCU pulled against her spine, resisting the movement.

Dolmayan didn’t speak at first, but the crackling came through, along with…were those gunshots?  “Aida?  Aida, can you hear me?”

“Are you okay?  What’s going on?!”

“Aida, I need you to listen to me.  Get back to the Grid.  Now.  You need to get off-planet as soon as possible; I don’t know how much time we have left-”  He cursed as more gunshots came through, louder this time.  Her pulse quickened as she realized that Dolmayan’s gun was the one going off.  A firefight.  Then, she heard another sound.  It began as a low rumble in her chest, followed by a high-pitched whine as the Coral in her body resonated.  Somewhere, something had broken.  A transport ship took to the sky.  Emblazoned on its hull was the icon of life on their delicate planet—the Rubicon Research Institute.

“They’re abandoning us,”  Oscar whispered.  “The Institute, they’re…they’re leaving us for dead.”  Aida could only watch.  It vanished, escaping from the convergence on the horizon, finding its place among the stars.

“It’s like the Coral’s…gathering over there,” she said.

Dolmayan’s voice came through again.  “YOU NEED TO LEAVE RIGHT NOW!”  Then a screech was in the headset, the final howls of endlessly dying mechanica.  Save us, the Coral whispered.  Dolmayan let out a battle cry before the interference cut him out completely.  Aida jolted, firing the boosters at full power.  No time to get to the nearest launch pad.  They rocketed into the sky toward the city looming hundreds of feet above.  The sides of the AC rattled as they flew, and through the Coral, she felt the heat of the boosters on the steel frame.  Her arms were dead weights dragging them down.  The generator whirred; she strained against gravity.  It cut out.  Aida cursed as they began to plummet.  Her training kicked in, and she let them fall, ceasing all inputs to give it time to recharge.  Then she fired the boosters again before they hit the ground, slowing their descent just enough to soften the impact.

“Get somewhere higher!”  Oscar yelled from behind.  Aida glanced at their surroundings, looking for somewhere a tetrapod could safely perch.  There.  She fired the boosters again, scaling a cliff to get to a signal tower atop it.  She had just enough energy to reach the top of the spire, where she latched on by hooking one of the guns through its supports.  She paused.  The generator hummed as it recharged the assault boosters.  It clicked off.  Aida kicked the AC off the tower with as high of a jump as the legs would allow before firing the boosters again, aiming for an extended fin below the city.  “Come on…” Oscar muttered, “Come on!”

Aida squinted, trying to make out details with only the dimming light from the north to help her see.  The EN capacity was reaching its limit.  The Coral knew what to do.  Her arms moved with inhuman precision, hitting the switches she’d seen Oscar flip earlier to cut the power.  Lights flickered off, and she released control as she shut off the boosters.  They started dropping.  Aida held her breath.  1…2…Now!  She fired the boosters again, using the sliver of extra power she’d saved to barely crest the lip of the bottom fin.  She slammed her arms down, straining the cords of the tracer cages as the AC matched her movement.  The new gun she’d attached with Oscar that afternoon creaked under the body’s weight.  All four legs dangled into open air, teetering as the wind buffeted them from behind. Aida used the momentum to swing back, firing the stabilization boosters in quick succession for guidance as she extended one leg into hovering position.  The foot just made it onto the fin.  She pushed hard as the barrel of the assault rifle bent.  The gun was ruined, but it gave them enough lift to clamber onto the platform.  Oscar groaned behind her as she threw them into a hover, frantically looking above for a higher point they could jump to.  Then all was silent.

No wind.  No sound from her brother or from the Coral rushing in her head.  Just the gentle vibration of boosters as the vermillion fog vanished from the horizon.  Dolmayan’s voice broke the silence.

“I’m sorry, Aida.  I did everything I could, but I had to get out of the atmosphere, I…”  A pinprick of red flashed among the clouds.  It blinked again, blindingly bright, as the heavens around it began to splinter and crack.  Then Dolmayan began to pray.  “Coral, abide with Rubicon.  Coral, endure within us all-”

The sky erupted in flame.

It was beautiful, the way it burned.  Brilliant plasma flickered at its origin, spreading its currents outward in ribbons of crimson.  The way it blew toward life as if by a strong wind.  The way it swept across the horizon, wiping clean all that it had once nurtured.  Dolmayan had always been the poetic one.  Aida found it strange that now, staring into a dance of material desolation, she’d find the music in immaterial words.  The shockwave hit.  Her brother’s AC was flung against the walls of the city.  The frame crumpled under the impact, and Oscar cried out behind her.  The air grew hotter.  They began to fall.  Aida coughed, her vision blurred.  Impact.  One of the AC’s legs collapsed upward, snapping at the joints.  They continued to plummet with the debris.  Aida shook her head violently, shoving off the wall with both arms as she fired the lower boosters.  They immediately began to spin due to the missing limb, but Aida managed to correct with the stabilizers enough to soften the landing.  It wasn’t enough.  All three remaining legs gave out under the force, and she felt a sudden pressure in her lower back.  Crunch.  A warmth spread out from her stomach as dust enveloped them.  Light from the fires filtered through, tinging the surrounding cloud pink.

She couldn’t feel her legs.  She attempted to move them, but they remained motionless.  Oscar coughed behind her.  Good, she thought, he’s okay.  He shifted in his seat.  What was he doing?  Ease your mind, child, the Coral thought, I am here.  The monitors had cracked, the hatch bent from a piece of the leg that had fallen onto it.  Oscar slammed the manual release lever and shoved his back into it, kicking himself up to drive it open.  It squealed before the whole hatch came off with a horrific tearing sound.  Her head pounded.  The air was blistering.  Her brother stood over her now, gripping the seat and shaking it, hair whipping in the rose-tinted dust behind him.

“Aida,” he pleaded, face glistening red in reflection of the blaze, “please…”  The surrounding air cleared, silhouetting him against the molten torrent above.  “Please let me connect one last time.”  Aida smiled and shook her head.  She couldn’t.  Oscar’s eyes flitted down to the metal pipe piercing her spine.  He screamed without words, fresh tears mixing with the blood running down his cheek.  Don’t cry!  She reached up to hug him.  Her arm didn’t budge, yet somehow, the arm of the AC moved obediently in response.  It “hugged” as best as it could, Coral steaming from its joints as it shaded them from the blinding Fires.  The air began to sear their skin.

“Can you see her too?”  she whispered.

“I can,” he replied reverently.  “I can see Mother’s voice.”  He choked on the words.  Aida lowered her mechanical arm again, watching Creation sway in the inevitability of Destruction.  She could see all their voices now.  They sang.  She harmonized with them, a melody against the rhythm of all that came before.  And for the first time, she was complete.

Illustration by PoruKima