I sat motionless on the aircraft. Nobody was in the passenger bay behind the cockpit but me and a solitary OpTech, who was equally stoic, hands clasped together, rifle hanging between their knees from a strap over their shoulder.
I held my tablet over my knees, watching the radar ping our location as we flew roughly west-southwest. I ran my fingers over the vinyl straps of my seat harness.
It was finally happening. I had been deemed fit for combat and I was being sent overseas to the primary fighting lines of the United Territories war. Finally given a chance to kill the rot of fascistic religion at its roots, given the chance to end this war, for Her.
Handler was trusting me. My mech, its new name painted on the side of the cockpit and across the anterior of the left leg, had been shipped across the ocean on a naval cruiser two weeks ago. In the interim, I'd been studied and tested and put in dozens of sims and instructed to bulk up on calories. I gained about nine pounds in twelve days. Gaige said my breasts seemed rounder and more filled out, and of course he would notice. I barely looked in a mirror most days.
"Is Gaige coming with me?"
"No, little one, he has work to do here."
"Brellon Canyon FOB. About as front lines as you can get in this age of warfare."
"Mommy is coming with me? She got on a different plane."
"Yes, your Handler will be there too. She's flying back to Silver City first for a few conference meetings. Bureaucracy stuff, you know."
I was ready. I was fidgety and anxious to get my hands on a trigger. I wanted the cockpit to be around me like a cage of safety; I wanted the throttle between my knees, I wanted to feel the shell ejection when I punched my guns. If I sat forward enough against the plasteel shell around the gearbox, I could almost masturbate with the vibrations of the autocannon fire rattling through the whole cockpit. I wanted to kill for Handler; knowing it would feel good in the moment made it even more of a draw. I would decimate the UT military. Rip them apart with my bare hands, if I had to. Just to make Her proud.
She was on Her way across the ocean as well, in a different aircraft.
The plane banked slightly. I watched the radar icon level out in a westward line, then begin a gentle curve northward. We still had a couple hours of flight before we hit the Dallihana coastline and started to cross the ocean.
"You're going to be doing your own shots for a while. The med techs on base out there have auto-injectors to make it easier and faster, but they aren't always available to help."
"I...don't like needles."
"You have to get used to it, sweetheart."
I bounced my foot against the steel floor of the bay. My fox wasn't alleviating my stimulation needs; no amount of rubbing its pink fur would push back the restless anxiety. I wanted Mommy. Mommy made the anxiety stop.
Mommy knew how to make the stars sparkle and make my heart spin with joy.
I wish She'd been on this same flight. I could unbuckle my harness and clip myself to Her seat, curled up around Her feet where I belonged. Maybe She'd pet me. Twist Her fingers into my hair. Tell me what a good girl I was.
I shifted my handgun holster between my legs and squeezed my thighs around it, compressing it against my cock. I wanted Her. I wanted to rut against Her boot. Her hand. I humped against the holster. I whimpered and whined, wanting the flight to be over and done so I could see Her again.
"I should have fucked you again sooner. Masturbating alone isn't as fun."
"The bruises should last a little bit. A week, maybe."
"My skin doesn't bruise that strongly, you know that."
"I'll bite harder when I see you again."
"Good. I'll keep the strap lubed."
I thumbed at the bruise. Pushed on it. Not even a dozen hours old, and beautifully dark on my neck. Right above where my collar rested. I'd caught my reflection on a blank screen in the cargo bay when I boarded the plane, and stopped to admire Gaige's work. He was so talented with his mouth. I would miss him.
The plane banked further, angling gently to the right.
I glanced at the radar. We were turning north. Off the flight path over the mountains. I pulled up the bigger map of Dallihana, and a spark of fear set my heart to an uneasy beat.
"What path are we taking to the coast?" I asked out loud, glancing at the OpTech across from me.
"Are we making extra stops? Fuel resupply?"
They looked confused. "No, just the one destination."
"Brellon Canyon FOB." I said this as if it were an established fact. Because it was. That's where we were going.
"What?" They looked truly confused, their eyes glancing between me and the cockpit. "No, we're going to the Bank Valley airfield. That's where we're dropping you off."
"Dropping...what?" Bank Valley was an hour drive from Rizer. From the hell I ran away from. My heart skipped over and started to race. I clenched my fox and the harness strap. "What do you mean drop me off?"
"Tell me what?" I slapped the tablet against my knee.
"Girl, you got deemed medically unfit to serve. They're taking you home."
"Home?!" I yanked my harness clip open and stood up, almost tipping over as the plane banked. "That's not home! Home is with Her!" I shrieked. I felt the rising panic. The fear. I clutched my fox in the pocket.
The blood rushed. My cheeks flushed, my heart raced, my stomach turned over
I can't go back. They can't take me back. "I don't have a home anymore!" I protested. "Home is...home is with Her! She gave me a home! I'm Her Hound! I'm Her pilot!"
Turn the plane around. Ground it.
I went through so much. The test flights, the sims, the resilience training...Gaige...does Gaige know? Did someone tell him? Will he even care?
"Did it not mean anything?" I hissed. "Any of it? Was it all pointless? Months of my fucking life, all for Her, I did so much for you...I..." I let Her take me. Fully. I absorbed Her into my personhood. I made Her part of myself. I let Her take the title of Mommy, I loved Her, did She not love me? Did She not care? Had She never cared? Was it really all just a fucking game? Did She hold my feet to the fire on sorties and test flights and let Gaige beat me over and over again to enforce that I wasn't good enough? "Am I not good enough for you?"
She took me. She pet me. She became someone to trust. She held me in Her arms and showed me the stars in Her eyes. She put me in a crate of safety, She granted me the stimulation I needed, She allowed me to keep my few possessions.
She made sure I was cared for and had my hormones and was fed and exercised like a good dog owner, She knew how to take care of Her puppies, and I was Her little one, right? Her little puppy? Her babygirl? Her little mech pilot?
But I wasn't good enough.
I've never been good enough.
I wasn't good enough for my church. I wasn't good enough for my family. I wasn't good enough for Holly, I let her down and she fucking died. My Mommy died. And now...
Am I not good enough for Handler?
Medically unfit. I'm broken. I'm too broken for Her. I'm not good enough.
I whimpered. I couldn't breathe. My vision blurred and tunneled. I slammed my fist against the back of the seat next to me.
"AM I NOT GOOD ENOUGH?!" I shrieked, letting my fear and anger project itself to the nameless OpTech on the other end of my barrel.
"Hey, I don't know what to tell you, don't fucking yell at me. I didn't make this call. I'm just your escort. Rizer is where you came from, it's where you're going back to. Whether or not you stay there is none of our business. Discharge is discharge."
"I'm not going within a thousand fucking miles of that place!" I yelled. I shoved the fox in one of my many flight suit pockets and yanked at my collar, feeling the tags jingle. "Did it mean nothing?!" I yelled at myself. "Was it all for FUCKING NOTHING? I GAVE YOU EVERYTHING I HAD!" I hurled the tablet as hard as I could against the far wall. The screen shattered into a spiderweb of cracked glass as it hit the floor, the pixels flickering.
"Would you calm the fuck down? You're a civilian now. This flight is a courtesy."
I turned on the OpTech, blind with fury. "I am not a fucking civilian," I hissed at them. "I am more than that. I am a Hound for my Handler. I am not anything else and I want to go back to Her. Turn this fucking plane around."
"Kalvya, you aren't anything anymore. Your access codes are gone. Your pilot keys are gone. You have no mech and no Handler, and this is what happens when troops are discharged! You go home!"
"I wasn't discharged! They told me NOTHING! I have to hear it from HER! TAKE ME BACK TO HER!" I ripped my pistol from the holster, racked the slide, and lined the sights to the OpTech's head.
They raised their hands slowly. "Kalvya. Relax. I'll go talk to the pilot. Put the gun down."
"MEDICALLY UNFIT?" I continued in my tirade, my hands shaking, vibrating, uncontrolled. My finger shook in the trigger guard. "What does that MEAN? WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME?"
The OpTech slowly stood, making a show of not touching their rifle. "They really didn't tell you fuck all, huh?"
"Spill! All the details!" My head started to ache. I rubbed my eyes with my free hand, feeling an irritating pressure in my ears.
"Hey, put a fucking lid on it back there!" The cockpit door slid open and the copilot peered out at us, eyes widening into something between panic and annoyance as he saw my gun. He yanked his sidearm from the holster and aimed it at my center-mass. "Stand down, Kalvya!"
The OpTech turned to him "Captain-"
"What is going on?!" I shrieked again. My ears hurt, like plastic was being pressed against my earlobes. The air pressure, the echoing cabin. I didn't want to yell. A surge of fatigue hit me, but I shook it off, demanding more adrenaline in my body. "They said I was going overseas! What fucking changed?!"
The copilot tilted his head at me. "You're terminal, Kalvya. Your framejack plug rusted out and infected your nervous system and spinal cord. You are going to die in the next couple of years, and you're liable for stroke, seizures, vertigo, pick your poison, you're due for the symptoms. Do you think that makes for a good MUS pilot? Sit the fuck down!" His voice raised in volume as he spoke, jerking his weapon toward me aggressively with each punctuated word.
"No!" I shifted my weapon to the copilot, eyeing his forehead through my iron sights, feeling saliva slide from my lips. "Take me back to Her! I'm not sick, I feel fine! She wouldn't lie to me! I wanna hear this from HER!"
"Commander Paladinia signed off on this. Whether or not She lied to you is none of my fucking business."
"Take me back or I'll fucking shoot you. All of you."
"And what, fly the plane yourself?"
"I can pilot a mech, a plane can't be that difficult! And besides, if I nosedive this fucker into the dirt and die, it'll be better than going back to Rizer!"
"I have orders, Kalvya! Gun down, sit your ass in the chair, and shut the fuck up!"
I pulled the trigger. The noise was a disorienting burst as the man crumpled to the floor across the cockpit door threshold.
"Fucking hell!" I heard the pilot shout. The cabin tilted as I turned the gun on the OpTech.
"Shit, fucking thing!" The OpTech dropped their rifle and charged me.
I turned the gun on them and fired, but missed my shot as they slammed me against the seats. I jerked my legs up, struggling, our limbs becoming a tangled flurry as the OpTech fought to keep me down. But I was not letting this happen. I was grounding this fucking plane and going back to Facility Three.
If they dragged me back to Rizer I would kill them all. It would be on their heads, for what they did to me.
They grabbed my hair and slammed my head against the seat backing. I shot my fist blindly at their face, grabbing their jaw as my vision flickered from pain jolting through my skull. The OpTech grunted and bit at my fingers, kicking my crotch as they did so, but I yanked their head sideways. They lost their balance. I took advantage, slipped out of the seat and let my full dead weight pull them to the floor alongside me, shrieking in pain as my hair was pulled harder than Gaige ever did. I scrabbled for their body armor, looking for a grip, and as soon as I found it, I used all the force I could muster to slam my knee into their sternum.
They choked, falling sideways as they stopped breathing, heaving for air. I grabbed their head, using their helmet as a focal point for my strength, and yanked their neck until I heard the snap. The OpTech jolted, horrifying noises leaving their mouth, and they went limp. I could still feel their heartbeat.
The plane banked again. A light flicked on in the short hallway to the cockpit as the door slid against the corpse of the copilot. I shoved the OpTech's dying form away from me and grabbed my pistol from where it had slid under the seats, taking a breath to center myself.
Back to Her. She can explain everything. She can't possibly have sent me away. She loved me. She told me She loved me. She wouldn't lie to me. Something has gone really wrong and I need to find out what. Handler knows. Handler has to know.
The pilot slammed a secondary door shut, locking me out of the cockpit as I raised the handgun to put an end to this.
"AUTOPILOT ENGAGED" crackled a speaker above the door.
I pushed the mag release on my pistol and checked my rounds. Eight, plus the one in the chamber. More than enough. I slammed the magazine back into the well.
For a moment, just a moment. I considered it. An old feeling, an old pain, crept up like a spider tip-toeing on my spinal cord. It was tempting.
I placed the barrel of the gun against my temple.
Moved it under my chin. It rubbed against the apple of my throat. Felt weird. I licked my lips and opened my mouth to put the barrel on my tongue.
I heard the sliding rack of a pump shotgun being loaded on the other side of the door.
Better than going back to Rizer. They can blow my head off if that's the alternative.
I could at least attempt to fly the plane.
I took a deep breath and re-oriented the handgun properly. I pet my fox and wondered how I was going to die today.
