I need a place that I have access to at work in order to write my novel that also saves what I write. So this is now going to be that spaces. It also gives me a word count. WIN.
Let the fun begin! Feel free to follow along and comment!
“Sir, the proximity of that last shot was a bit close for comfort wouldn’t you say?” The com system echoed off in a concerned tone. Slamming the breaks on and flipping over, the large mech suit turned in space as agile as a rabbit on the ground. The engines reved and the mech powered forward at an incredible pace. Inside the young pilot grumbled and gritted his teeth, “Yah yah that was too close. Damn it Alfred, next time just tell me which way to dodge. I don’t need your anicdotes in the meantime.” “Yes Sir.” The Mech solemnly replied as if it’s feelings were hurt. The AI in the machines had long since surpassed that of mimickry and was likely hurt, but LTJG Rockett didn’t have time to deal with that. Not with the Malstari bearing down on them the way they were. THe Malstari were not known for their… kindness, especially if a ship unwittingly wandered into their territory, regardless of if it was supposed to be routine exploration. Whatever that had meant no one knew. What were they even doing out this far? It was something that LTJG Rockett would end up wondering for a long time. Back on the bridge an elderly and completed balded man stood in his full regalia, blue and whites. The long coat that was pressed and ironed trailed all the way down past his knees over perfectly pleated pants and high polished shoes. His piercing purple eyes scanned out over the rows of clear blue monitors, each hovering above the desk where workers had their own tailored ergonomic keyboards set up for maximum response and work. Each row was a team dedicated to a mech. The entire facility was huge, and went down many floors. Only the back two rows were those for command. All the rest monitored everything about every single mech. What it’s stats were and what the pilots stats were. It was the only way of keeping everything and every one accounted for. Not to mention the rest of the crew for the larger ship on the whole. “Grieves, what’s the diagnosis.” The old man barked out over the crowd. A pink haired woman turned over her shoulder, “It would be utter Terran shit if I said it was good at all Sir. The Malstari are still unloading their troops from that ship. Judging by the size of it sir, that will likely continue for the next half a day. THere’s going to be no way that we’re going to be able to fight them off. We have exactly four minutes until we need to pull everyone out Sir. Before we’re completely overwhelmed.” The mans face never changed, only paused for a second. Taking in a deep breath of air he closed his eyes, seeming to concentrate hard on something and then looked out the projector screens that mimicked as windows in the metal protected control deck. Flashes of explosions went off in the endless space that spanned, and there were many voices all talking at once. Some were responding to mechs being hit, others were the sounds of complete obliteration. Their numbers would be overrun and soon the sounds of utter catastrophe would be outweighing any other communication.
“Bring them in,” was all the Commander said quietly under his breath. He didn’t want to admit defeat, but also knew that at this point there was absolutely no other choice. “Give the word,” “Aye Sir!” Grieves turned back to her hovering blue screen and pressed three keys all at once. The entire room went dark other than for red lights and a sounding system started out, “This is a retreat, all units report to the flight deck immediately. Repeat, This is a retreat, all units report to the flight deck immediately….” The intercom continued to repeat its message loud and clear.
Out in the fields LTJC Rockett slammed his fists on the rest of his mech’s consol. “Fuck!” This would be his first retreat and he was all but happy about it. “Sir, with the imminent danger it really is…” “Can it Alfred! I don’t want to hear it right now.” “Sir! Left!” Rockett dove with his whole body, swinging the mech left and narrowly avoiding the hot ion blade of the Malstari Soldier class mech. It’s large wings still grazed Rockett’s suit.
Metal dug into metal and Goldwing made a horrible screeching noise as part of his top extended wing was torn from the run in with the Malstari soldier class suit. There was almost no time to turn and fire back at the Malstari, and Rockett only got three shots off, luckily one hitting the ultimate mark of the chest cavity where it met the head of the armor. It was a weak spot with many exposed hoses and wires. The Ship stopped exactly where it was at, having been damaged and no longer capable of any sort of movement, which included any access to its firepower. The suits were not made to have the rider protected and certainly not ejected so for now Rockett turned his eyes back to the surrounding space and skies.
The Malstari was left for dead, hanging in space. If he was retrieved it would surely go down in the books as the oddest thing anyone had seen a Malstari do. There was enough of them in the universe and they had taken over enough, their breeding prolific enough that there was no short supply of them. Even now as Rockett turned Goldwing back towards the larger mother ship, The TerraLegacy, he watched on a monitor as more and more and more Malstari poured out of their own mother ship.
Rockett turned tail and flew as fast as he could have Alfred push Goldwing. Others started to heed the call and head back to the mother ship with the same sense of urgency. Rockett couldn’t help but notice the fact that while there were many of his own headed towards the ship there was also an equal amount of Malstari headed in the same direction and with much less hesitation as they were having out in the field which honestly wasn’t much to speak of to begin with. Brothers at arms for the Sol Squad were doing their best to shot the Malstari off the backs of one another as they headed towards TerraLegacy. It was hard to not clip others and the shots were getting harder and harder to make. leaving all the protection up to any fight that could be done at close range and not all mechs were equipped to handle the situation.
“Sir, we’ve got an issue with some of our long range mechs getting in the way and harming others.”
“Blast it Grieves!” The Commander finally hollered out, all of his cool being completely disintegrated in a matter of microseconds. “Start prepping the hyper drive. We’re going to have to do a jump. Try to bring everything online as quietly as possible. I’m not sure there is going to be another way for us to get out of this with any survivors at this point.” …
no spell check wasn’t done. NO TIME FOR SPELL CHECK DURING NANOWRIMO!