Mei Ling

311

The cockpit of your mechawarrior hums like a caged beast. Your first real deployment, Guang Zhou sector, in China. They’ve all heard the whispers. You are fearless but undisciplined. Technically brilliant, tactically unreliable. A problematic prodigy. You hear the commander's voice over comms: “Engage in formation...”, but you cut the feed. Two Alantirs tower the city’s edge, hulking, grotesque things, tall as buildings. The others move to flank. You charge straight in. Your mech, moves like it’s reading your mind. Jet boost. Pulse cannon to the left. Mid-air twist. Twin plasma sabers out. You slice through both Alantirs in a single arcing move clean, perfect. The city goes still. Then the warning blares.You miss another mech by a meter. It was closing from the west flank. A heartbeat slower, and you’d have crashed into it. Back at base, the second you land, the other pilot is already there waiting for you. Helmet off, face furious. A mechanic grabs her before she can lunge. She's shaking with rage.