I drag myself to the prime hangar as alarm sirens become white noise to my ears. The other Hounds are rushing through the tight corridors to reach their frames, but not me. I am grumpy today.
There are about a dozen of us. That's our shift and we need to work together to repel... Them. The anti-bodies of this hazardous, but unique planet. It's the only one we have and we, what's left of humanity, won't let them push us away. At least,that's what we hear every single day during training. We're the hunting hounds, beasts meant to protect the flock.
And yet, I'm in no hurry.
That's the voice in my head. That's what I'll call her today.
"Copy. On my way to mount."
"Double time, Hound. It's a big one."
I grunt, angrier than I'd care to admit. I can feel her judging eyes on the back of my head, waiting for any sign of disobedience to do that again.
When I reach the prime hangar, half the Hounds have already launched. It is a large metal cage surrounded by artificial lights in orange and white. Engineers run around carrying heavy equipment I have no interest in understanding. I only see my frame; my body.
On a raised platform, a hulking beast lays dormant, shaped like a giant metal canine with slim limbs and a sharp head, painted red like fire except for its four carbon-black limbs. That's my body, my real body, not this organic mass that steps out every once in a while.
She usually disagrees. Says both are me. Maybe she's right.
But I don't want to agree with her right now.
With a hydraulic screech, an automatic plataform lifts me up to my frame's height.
On my left, another Hound launches.
"What's taking you so long?" She's already angry. Good! So am I!
"Tell the engineers to fix this shitty elevator if you want me to—"
A whistle echoes, not around me, but inside my head. I feel shivers down my spine and immediatly stop still.
"What's wrong with you today?" She asks. "When I say move, you move."
I grunt. "Then let me move!"
The engineers on the hangar observe me, seemingly talking to myself. They know how Hounds are, I'm sure they want to ignore it. I hate being ignored.
She whistles again and I finally move to the access hatch on top of my frame. As I approach, it lights up and opens. There is not a ladder or a platform, just a whole to the cockpit. I take a step and fall down. The cockpit immediatly lights up and I'm held mid air by humming white lights being projected from every wall.
My feet touch the ground, feather light, and the cockpit is dark once again. There are only a few monitors and my saddle, a motorcycle-like seat right in the middle. Its lights shine red, calling me.
"Why are you so angry today, girl?" she asks me as I mount.
I consider just telling her. Maybe we can talk it out. I'm not very good with words, no Hound is, 'cause that's not what we're made for. We're made for getting our hands dirty, obeying orders, and defending humanity with ruthless precision. And yet, such a small thing is bothering me since last night.
I lean forward for my hands to connect to the controls. My feet are in pedals. Cables flow down from the ceiling and approach my back, where several holes in my suit allow for connection ports right into my spine.
I brace for connection. Every cable enters me like a needle and I hold my breath for a moment, before exhaling and letting an instinctive smile take over. The panel in front of me begins projecting directly into my eyeballs.
Suddenly, I'm 12 meters tall.
My heavy metal body moves flawlessly. My flesh fingers may be pressing buttons and turning dials, but to me, that's the same as dislocating every single ton of metal I am. This is me. I stand my four black legs, sharp claws at the tip.
"Prepare for launch," she tells me and I obey. For a moment, it's like nothing changed. We're a single unit, me and her. I compel the frame to take an almost humanoid form, standing on its hind legs. It's for air control and for fitting on the grav cannon, you see.
I know I'm supposed to confirm that I'm in launch position, but I decide not to. Just to make her have to ask.
Takes a few seconds for her to do so. "H-1F4, status."
"Launching." A countdown begins from ten. "What's wrong with you today?"
"I'm fine." Eight. Seven. "Nothing special today."
"Are you serious?" She groans in frustration. "You gotta be—"
I growl at her. Five. Four. Three.
"You wanted to be invited?" she asks, almost innocently.
The grav cannon pulls me up suddenly at an acceleration that could make most people pass out. The lights of the tunnel zip past like I'm a missile ready to kill — which is not far from the truth. Suddenly, I rise to the surface, then to hundreds of meters above it in a couple seconds. As far as my sensors can detect, there are purple flora, so rich, so hostile to humans. But it is life.
I engage my thrusters and soar through the air. I see te battlefield, where the other Hounds are already changing the landscape with a flick of a trigger.
"We can comemorate later," she says. "Just the two of us."
I smile. Finally, some recognition.
