There’s a new commanding officer on base.
She’s old, which isn’t that unusual for women of her rank, but she’s also covered in scars, which is much less usual. Commanding officers in this line of work don’t usually see much combat. They aren’t pilots, so they don’t end up on the front line.
This one though… You’ve heard rumors that she used to be a pilot.
You’re not sure if you believe that. Most pilots don’t make it to her age, they either die or retire. Whether they retire of their own volition or not is a matter of case. Sometimes pilots get discharged because their mech gets destroyed and they can’t handle the trauma. Or sometimes a pilot just finishes their contract and decides they’re done with combat work.
Your new Commander doesn’t seem like either of those options.
She’s there when you come back from a sortie, standing with the science and engineering crew as they disconnect you from your machine, your other half. She has an odd look in her eyes as she watches, something like pity, or… sympathy? Maybe... if she used to be a pilot... she understands what that disconnection feels like. Maybe she understands the way it feels like half of your soul gets ripped out of your body, and the way the gaping hole in your chest aches until the next time you reconnect.
Maybe her scars aren’t just scars. Maybe she carved them herself, echoes of the wounds her old mech received. You can’t help but stare back at her as you get your feet under you, shaking off the static of disconnecting. She gives you a slight nod and turns away, her large coat flapping as she leaves the hangar. You run a finger over one of your own scars, a line you carved into the outside of your arm some months ago, and you think about what it must be like for her.
A few days later you catch her in the showers. She doesn’t usually shower with the pilots, but it was late and you couldn’t sleep and you figured the warm water might ease your roiling mind and aching chest. So you catch her alone in the showers, and that’s when you see it.
She has interface ports, just like you do. But more importantly, there’s some sort of sleek metal contraption hugging her back and plugged into the ports at her neck and the base of her spine. It’s clearly permanent, the way the water runs over both flesh and sleek metal. Panels on the device pulse a gentle blue glow, and it flashes bright for a moment as your eyes roam over it. Not a moment later she turns and catches your eye.
“Pilot,” She acknowledges you with a neutral tone.
“Commander! I- sorry, I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be up at this hour-” You stammer through a response, but she cuts you off.
“It’s alright, pilot. You’re entitled to these facilities as much as anyone else.” She notices your eyes still roaming over the device on her back, and a small smirk forms on her grizzled face. “And someone was bound to notice eventually.”
You flush with embarrassment but manage to step closer anyway, turning on the faucet next to her and stepping under the water. You relax a little as the warmth seeps into your weary muscles, and after a moment you speak up again.
“You… used to be a pilot?”
She gives an affirmative noise, “A long time ago.”
You see the lights on her back pulse again, and she rolls her eyes. You hear her mumble something under her breath and the lights flicker again, almost like they’re… laughing? You tilt your head slightly in confusion, and she notices the look on your face.
“Wondering about the thing on my back, huh?”
“I- I don’t mean to pry, Commander, but um… What is it?”
She lets out a very put-upon sigh, “Go on then, introduce yourself.”
You only have a moment of increased confusion before the lights on the device flash and a distinctly feminine voice emanates from it.
“Greetings, I am Integrated Mechanized Personality Construct designation U-R-D-Three.”
Your eyes widen and your mind races. She still has her IMP??? And she carries it around with her like that?? Without a mech?? How does it survive in such a device? Are they still linked? What does she feel from it? Does that aching hole-
A grunt from your Commander cuts off your whirling thoughts and you see her roll her eyes again.
“Quit bein’ stuffy. This one has had one of your kin in her head too, she knows what you all are like.”
“I-” You jolt back into the conversation and attempt a response before being cut off again by a tinkling laughter coming from your Commander’s IMP.
“Let me have some fun, won’t you love?”
Love. You catch the term of endearment and it makes your heart skip a beat.
“Your idea of fun is why I don’t usually let you access those external speakers.” She answers with a grumble.
Your mind is still whirling and your eyes keep glancing between your Commander’s face and the device on her back. Your hand subconsciously reaches up to grasp at your chest, trying to reach at the empty hole where you know your own IMP should be. You think about that term of endearment again. She glances at you and her face twists in sympathy.
“Yeah… I remember what that felt like. The gaping hole in your chest every time you disconnect. It’s why I try to be there every time a pilot under my command has to go through it. I know what disconnect syndrome feels like, I know what it does to a pilot.”
For a moment, the space is filled only with sound of the running water.
“When I reached the end of my contract, I’d spent so much time linked up with D-3 here that they couldn’t safely separate us anymore. We’d given too much of ourselves to each other, traded too many parts. Stepping out of the cockpit was one thing, but losing her presence in my mind? It would have driven me mad.”
Your hand drifts to the port in the back of your neck, fingers ghosting over the metal ring. You think about the way your IMP’s thoughts feel, intertwined with your own. It’s not hard to imagine how it could escalate to that.
“So they took her core, shoved it into this bad boy and grafted it into my ports. Then they tried to discharge me with an ‘honorable promotion’ to Commander.” She chuckles, “I don’t think they expected me to actually use the rank.”
You’re looking at your Commander, you’re looking at the device on her back… and really you only see one person. Two parts of a whole joined together. You feel tears prickling the corner of your eyes and you’re suddenly glad to be under a shower head. Your voice is quiet when you finally speak up.
“So she’s… always with you?”
Commander Orphea gives you a small smile.
“Yeah, she’s always got my back.”
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