Lance Corporal Robins piloted his Musketeer as carefully as he could through the debris that filled the hangar. It was an unwieldy machine to him, which made his Seargent's skill behind the stick even more impressive to him.

A few chunks impacted his armor, sending vibrations through the entire frame and his own body. A frown split his face behind his helmet, and he stabbed the floodlight controls on his control dash.

Bright light illuminated the cavernous hangar, throwing the chunks of debris into sharp relief.

The light also revealed a lonesome salvage frame, a speck of a thing, in the distance. Its canopy was open, and judging by the dim glow of its console, it still had power. His eyes narrowed. That's not something that would have ever been near a ship like this.

Look's like that tin can of a ship outside *was* in fact sniffing around for loot.

And it looked like they had found it, he noted as he drifted closer. A tall machine, taller than his own, the only thing that belied it as a war machine and not a giantess in armor were the exposed mechanical joints and the elongated chest, where the cockpit sat.

If he was a betting man, and he very much was, he guessed the cockpit was where whoever had piloted that salvager had holed up.

"Let's see here..." He holstered his machine’s coil rifle, the weapon slotting against the thigh armor, before reaching out with that hand. His hand grasped the curved armor just under the chest, attempting to find purchase and pull the hatch loose. The empty, still operational loader-frame nearby told him someone was here, and where better to hide than a well-armored machine?

His machine tried and failed to find a grip on the cockpit hatch, or what he assumed to be the hatch. Vibrations ran through the armor and into Robins as the fingers scraped over the white and red armor. He muttered to himself as he continued to fail to find purchase. His viewscreen was filled with the machine, but his machine’s head, and thus his main camera, only came up to the top of this thing’s chest. He panned his main camera up, gathering as much visual data as he could.

Just as the head unit came into focus, two yellow eye-cameras flashed to life, startling Robins for just a moment. That moment of shock and surprise was enough, and he felt his machine jostle. He looked down.

A mechanical hand, grey metal tipped with golden claws, grasped the forearm of his machine, with enough pressure that the metal was visually buckling. Before he could even curse, that grip tightened and crushed the arm in half.

"Shit!" He cursed as he pulled away from the offending machine, making some room between him and the hostile.

On instinct, he tried to bring his rifle up, only to find the sparking wreckage of his Frame's arm. The enemy machine moved, easily and smoothly, its arms pushing against the metal framework around it, coming forward and away from its bay. Cables and mounting arms that had been attached to its back, hidden from view, ripped away with ease, sending yet more metal into the surrounding space.

"Dammit!" He cursed again. The hostile machine slowly drifted out of its berth, almost lazily, and he noted with some jealousy that it was moving much smoother than he had managed.

He grimaced and keyed an emergency command. There was a mechanical clunk as his machine's tower shield fell away, leaving him with one arm, a rifle, and an emergency heat-sword mounted to his remaining arm. Still, he thought, the hostile didn’t have a single weapon, so he counted it about even.

He just managed to get the rifle into the machine's off-hand before the hostile’s head turned to look at him, yellow eyes seeming to lock to his eyes, and in a metaphorical eyeblink, the hostile machine crashed into his machine at high speed, slamming Robins forward against his crash harness as they accelerated together out of the hangar.

Adrenaline in his veins, he frantically worked his controls, but the death grip this insane machine had on his own left him little in the way of options. His only remaining arm was held tight, and its other hand was stabilizing his machine by his shoulder armor. Suddenly, it planted a foot square against his cockpit armor and kicked him away.

As he spun away from the machine, he keyed his comm unit. He saw something fall into the hostile’s clawed hand, a cylinder of some kind, but his focus was on calling for his team.

He got three words out as they passed into open space before a bright yellow light flashed below his view.

---

"Mayday, I've got-" came Robins' voice, over Lance Sergeant Jensen's comm, before it was cut off by a horrible hiss-roar, and the line went dead.

He whirled his machine around, just in time to catch a bright explosion in the distance, minuscule against the backdrop of the massive carrier. He cursed under his breath again, as he whirled back to the bridge of the ship he had been holding at gunpoint.

His moment of distraction had cost him; Massive blast shields were already halfway closed, and as the ship slowly began to move away from him and towards the wreckage in the distance, he raised his rifle and fired.

The shot smashed into the thick blast plate, doing little more than denting it and blowing off a section of yellow caution paint.

"Fuck!" He keyed his comm, on an open channel to his entire team. "Lancelot, the salvage ship is making a break for it, move to intercept! Shen, stay with the prisoners! Childe, on me!"

A chorus of affirmations rang out in his cockpit, but he ignored them. The dark wedge shape of Lancelot accelerated to intercept the hostile vessel, a few testing stabs of particle fire lancing out from its cannons, but his attention was solely on the red marker in his HUD that designated the hostile Frame’s relative position.

As he flew forward, g-forces pushing him into his crash seat, Childe's Longbow Frame pulled up to his right. As her machine matched velocity with him, he noted the shoulder-mounted railgun was already in a forward and ready firing position. Good, he knew she was a good choice for this mission.

The Longbow was a stark contrast to his own Musketeer Type-N. Where his machine was all heavy armor, with the heavy shield, extra thrusters, and extra fuel to match, hers was lightly armored and possessed of twice the thrusters even his custom machine had, it was a support machine designed to harry the enemy with long-ranged fire, while making use of its superior speed to keep that distance.

Her voice rang clearly through his comm, the signal crystal clear at this point-blank range.

"Plan of attack, Sarge?" asked the rough young woman.

"Stay back and behind me," He started. As they closed on the mark on his HUD, he noted that it hadn't moved from where Robins' machine had detonated. "I'll close in and harass the hostile, while you look for a disabling shot. Use your best judgment." He wanted to add something about avenging Robins, but his professionalism held him back. Best to save that for the funeral.

"Yes sir!" her response rang out in his cockpit.

Not a moment too soon, either. They came into visual range, but as soon as he was able to get a good look at the hostile, it went full throttle.

Away from them. His flight computer estimated its vector and spat out the answer as...

"Shit, it's making a break for Shen and the prisoners! Weapons free, go go go!" He yelled into his mic. His tower shield came up, covering him while leaving room for him to aim and fire with the coil rifle in his other hand, and he pushed to full throttle. A railgun slug sailed past him as Childe banked right, following the enemy from a different, oblique, angle.

He brought up a still of the best visual they had of the thing, just as he was treated to the sight of it casually dodging a railgun round, moving just enough to let it sail past. Red, white, and gold, the thing looked more humanoid than any frame he had ever seen. One handheld what almost looked like the hilt of a sword, and the other held a coilgun.

Likely pilfered from the wreckage of Robins’ machine.

He cursed under his breath. He was barely matching velocity with the damn thing and at the speeds they were under they would be on Shen in minutes.

He fired a test burst, metal slugs streaming towards his foe faster than he could fly himself, only to be answered by a return burst that punched a staccato beat into his shield, hard enough to put a small shake into his flight path.

The damage display on his console flashed, and he cursed. What monstrous accuracy, at a range that only technically qualified as visual. If he hadn't angled his shield to cover his cockpit, he’d be sucking vacuum right now.

Railgun fire came faster and faster, as Childe switched from a sniper role to a bombardment role as it became clear that this machine refused to be hit. As it spent horizontal velocity on dodging, he was able to slowly catch up to it.

As he finally came into true visual range, they were upon the rear of the wreck that had started this whole mess, and with it, they found Shen, still dutifully guarding the shuttle that housed their prisoners. It was still mostly intact

"Shen, disengage! Shen!" He called into his comm, but Shen had barely any time to react, and he only just brought his own Musketeer's shield up in time.

Jensen watched the red and white machine kick Shen's Musketeer away from the shuttle he had captured, one foot planted squarely in the middle of the tower shield. The kick landed with such force that the shield bent in half around the offending foot, and the arm holding it practically exploded, the elbow joint tearing off under the forces that it was just subjected to.

Shen's loud voice cursed over the comm as he tried to get his machine under control, but Jensen spoke over him as the hostile came to a rest in front of the shuttle, and there was a moment of unseen communication, the hostile red and white frame gazing into the cockpit of the shuttle, before said shuttle slowly limped off, toward the relative cover of the debris field that separated the two halves of the carrier.

"Sir, the prisoners!" said Childe.

"Hostile frame takes priority, let the Lancelot handle them!" he responded.

“Yes sir,” she said, with some frustration.

The white machine turned in space, slowly taking in each of them. Jensen and Shen were closest, while Childe held position 'above' them, the wreckage 'beneath' them providing a convenient frame of reference.

"This thing has to be what we’re here for, right?" said Shen, still loud even when he wasn't shouting.

"Right. But that assumed it wasn't active and hostile. If you have a shot at its main thruster pack, take it. Otherwise, shoot to kill. Let the brass sift through the wreckage." Jensen noted that the bogie hadn't yet moved, not even to ready a weapon. It was just...staring at him.

Sizing him up, maybe.

Until it wasn't. Without warning, it shot 'up', thrusters trailing blue vapor, right towards Childe, firing at Shen from its pilfered coilgun as it ascended. Jensen knuckled under his shield and followed, firing his own weapon to return fire as he accelerated after it to keep it in range.

Shen no longer had the benefit of a shield, and his armor took the brunt of the fire. He jerked his damaged Musketeer to the side, following a longer angle of attack, but still returning fire with his own rifle. Blue-white flashes of vaporized coolant from the muzzles of their guns punctuated the dark space around them.

A dance proceeded. A blur of red and white flew circles around them, only rarely returning fire. Rather than chase it, Jensen held his ground, vectoring his machine to simply keep the enemy in his sights. He could see Childe desperately doing the same, but clearly struggling more.

Was it prioritizing the railgun as a higher threat? In that case...

"Shen, fire for effect! Childe, I'll make an opening!"

With that order, Shen's coilgun opened up into full-auto fire, aimed only generally at the enemy. It spun around, jerking suddenly in space to avoid the majority of the fire. A few shots pinged off its shoulder armor and the skirting that made up its hip armor. But, his plan worked. It turned to face an immediate threat.

Taking its metaphorical eyes off of Jensen and Childe.

Jensen took aim as it jerked to avoid Shen's indiscriminate fire. As his targeting system chimed with a positive firing solution, he pulled the trigger.

A small burst of metal slugs slammed into the back of the hostile, just below its thruster pack. From this range, he couldn't see if he'd caused any damage, but that wasn't the point.

The hostile stopped dead in space for just a moment, spinning in place to face Jensen. A moment of stillness proved to be enough for Childe. She fired just in time, right as the enemy machine snapped its coilgun up to fire at Jensen.

There was a streak through space, drawing a straight line between Childe's railgun and the hostile machine.

The red and white machine was struck with such force that it was thrown 'down', towards the massive wreckage. It impacted, sending scraps of metal flying. It disappeared from sight, obscured by wreckage and smoke.

Whoops of triumph sounded as Childe descended to fly level with them.

"Do you think that got it?" asked Shen, as he drifted closer to Jensen's Musketeer.

Jensen frowned. "I'm not sure. One of us will have to-"

He was interrupted as rifle fire pierced the smoke below, and slammed into the underside of Shen's machine. The slugs pierced through the cockpit, and there was a hideous electronic wail through Shen's commlink.

"Shit, Shen!" shouted Childe. She vectored directly upward, as Jensen thrust away from the smoking wreck of Shen's machine. There was no telling if fusion containment had been breached with that shot.

He was treated to a white and red blur flying past his view, directly on Childe's tail. He saw as it tossed aside its stolen weapon, its ammunition finally spent in the killing of his comrade.

"Goddammit, it's on you Childe!" He yelled over his comm as he reversed his direction, to follow the blur.

Just as he started accelerating behind it, it turned to face him, and shining yellow eyes met him through his camera.

He had just a moment to appreciate the carbon scoring that marked the only "damage" they had managed, and to raise his rifle to aim, before the hostile disappeared from his monitor, moving around and out of view.

Leaving Childe aiming her railgun directly at him.

"Shit!" they cursed simultaneously. A railgun shot streaked just past him, barely missing as Childe managed to jerk her aim to the right slightly, the slug driving a new divot into the wreckage below.

He didn't have a moment to appreciate his life flashing before his eyes, as he felt an impact against his machine's back. He spun around, just in time to witness the cylinder in its hand come alive in the hostile's hand, a shining golden blade heading straight for his cockpit.

"Fuck!" He cursed, thrusting to the side. His console screamed at him, his damage display lighting first an angry red along his Frame's weapon arm before that section went dark. Out of the corner of his, in the monitor to his right, he saw his machine's arm float away, cleanly severed at the shoulder.

The enemy frame filled his entire view for but a second before his machine rocked again. It had kicked him away, and for a moment Jensen was shocked. Incredulous, he wondered why the enemy seemed so obsessed with kicking them!

"You son of a bitch!" screamed Childe. The enemy Frame turned from Jensen and dodged backward as railgun fire filled the space it had once occupied.

Jensen snapped out of it as Childe descended like an angry comet towards the enemy.

The enemy that flew to meet her. The golden blade scythed cleanly through her railgun barrel before she could react. As it reeled back for a follow-up blow, Jensen moved. His machine hit max thrust, and he slammed shield first into the enemy frame a moment later, pushing it away from Childe in the process.

He disengaged his shield while firing his reverse thrusters.

He barely had a chance for his heat sword to snap forward from its holster inside his forearm armor, before the enemy was on him again. He had no chance to appreciate the exchange of fire between Lancelot and the enemy ship Speak Softly, as the hostile frame swung for his cockpit once again.

It became another deadly dance. They flew among the wreckage, blue thruster vapor leaving trails in space. That deadly golden blade slashed through the wreckage with as much ease as it had destroyed the Longbow's railgun.

Childe followed them as best she could, firing shots from her backup rifle. Such was the chaos of the fight that the shots found only wreckage or void.

"Goddammit, hold still!" She screamed, before charging into the melee, trying to find a cleaner shot.

"Childe! Don't" called Jensen over the comm, but it didn't matter. The red and white demon batted him away, a backhand that damn near took his Frame’s head clean off, and turned to face her just as she came into point-blank range.

The golden blade pierced her cockpit like her armor wasn't even there.

"Childe!" Jensen shouted as he flew forward to meet the hostile Frame once again.

"What the hell are you!" he shouted as they danced through the void. Jensen, in his sudden grief, was blind to where they were.

He did not see the rapidly approaching *Lancelot*.

Wildly, he swung his blade at the enemy Frame. It dodged with near contemptuous ease, and a golden arc took his machine's remaining arm off.

"This was supposed to be an easy, simple mission!" He yelled, though the enemy could not hear him. He tuned out the blaring warnings in his cockpit. He slammed his throttles forward, trying to crash into the hostile frame.

It shifted around him with contemptuous ease and took hold of his machine by its waist and remaining shoulder. Suddenly, Jensen was thrust into his seat as they flew forward with incredible velocity.

It was only now that he saw the dark arrowhead shape of the ship that had brought them to this damned place.

He had a single instant to contemplate the battle damage, the pockmarks across its armor before his machine impacted that same armor.

The impact that buckled the ship’s armor around him did not kill him. The golden blade piercing his suit's fusion reactor and cockpit is what killed him.

The expanding nuclear fireball that was once his machine made sure he did not go down without his ship.