With a cracked visor stuck to your helmet, you can’t see anything but darkness. With a full system shutdown, you can’t hear much of what’s going on outside, either. With no working ventilation, breathing becomes more difficult. And with a concussion, you can’t even make left from right. I don’t know how else to describe the situation I was in.

The trapped pilot mustered up the strength to do the only thing that came to mind. Through labored breaths, she frantically kicked the door panel in front of her, but the padding only sent her foot reeling back in vain. Dizzy and struggling to stay in focus, she propped her feet against the same door panel, this time using whatever she had left in her attempt to pry it open. Nausea kicked in as her legs fell limp. “No, no, please,” she mumbled amidst her panicked breathing. The ground shook under her back, signaling the approaching footsteps of metal upon asphalt, and it was as if she knew she was once again its target.

- - - And I knew exactly who it was that was after me. At this point in time, why wouldn’t he want me dead? - - -

The footsteps suddenly came to a halt, but experience convinced her it was in the air now, lunging towards her, shooting that final surge of adrenaline through her as if to scream out and plead for her life. Her feet once more found themselves against the door panel, pushing out with all her might. Just as the joints to the lower panel began to creak under stress, an unfamiliar roar of boosting thrusters zoomed overhead, searing hot air rushing through the newly opened crevice between the door panels. A volley of gunfire boomed and echoed, sending her already pounding head for another violent loop as she screamed out in excruciating pain. Silence never came as the sound of the rushing hot air around her continued endlessly. Was it there to save her? The thought was short-lived as she struggled to keep her focus.

“Confirm your status,” a woman’s voice spoke over a loudspeaker.

The tone was almost robotic. It wasn’t a voice she recognized, but it was nevertheless a sign she was being rescued. Her hands fumbled around her helmet’s strap mounts to either side of her head, haplessly attempting to remove the contraption from her head so as to see or hear better what was going on. “I… I can’t… I can’t…” Words were difficult to come by in this physical state, much less enough breath to push out through her vocal cords. Dizziness grew stronger. Her fight against blacking out quickly grew weaker with each second passing. It was then she felt herself being dragged away. She could sense the metal beneath her scraping, pulling away from the direction of the threat as she finally gathered a semblance of her orientation; She had been lying on her back facing upwards this whole time.

As soon as whatever it was that had a grip on her had let go, she felt a rush of cooler air as well as blinding light from outside pour in. She once again thought to reach for her helmet strap mounts but couldn’t find the strength.

“Easy, easy!!” she heard a man’s voice before she felt herself being carefully lifted out by two sets of arms.

“No neck injuries apparent, let’s get her out, quick!” another man’s voice added.

But that pilot was sure she was going to die where she lay. Even with the expected comfort to overpower her fears, her mind was now affixed to the thought “but, how?” Her death was that certain to her. Her left thumb finally found its way to the release tab, allowing her to jerk away the strap that held the broken helmet on. As the helmet rolled off her head and fell to the back of the cockpit below her, the lights from above had her once again quickly overcome with pain. “Why… who… who are you!?”

“Confirm your status!” the robotic voice from above once more shouted over its loudspeaker with a possible hint of impatience.

“Who are you!?” the pilot again shouted, running out of breath.

“This is Galatine. Your survival status has been confirmed.”

She wasn’t sure who or what Galatine was. She was even less sure how she was even able to sit upright and who had been helping her up.

- - - Of course, it wasn’t who I thought it would be there to save me. The ones I needed most were the ones I abandoned emotionally when it mattered most. I didn’t care at what cost it would come at that time, but damn, what I wouldn’t have given up to be the one hovering above me more than anything. - - -

The nevertheless reassuring pair of arms behind her continued to keep a grip on her before she felt herself being carried away. “Is she… she a Harbinger… here to save…”

“Hey, come on, Sam! Stay with us!” the ever-distancing voice from one of the men earlier rang out from one side of her.

“Is this even the right pilot?!” the other man continued from the other side. “Hey, what’s your name, pilot!?”

“My name? … I… what are…” It was no good. The fight was over, and everything went numb from that point.

All silence…

All darkness…

…

That was a good question once I got around to thinking about it. Who am I, really?

Someone who, instead of sticking it out for law school, chose this… for what?

Me, a hopeless, helpless wreck, chasing a lost cause? Chasing a title? Chasing… what?

To think I have found myself thrown across several continents to still come up empty handed…

(Months Earlier)

“Now arriving, Sumeria Central Terminal.”

Aqua-green eyes snapped open and then snapped closed once again as the programmed artificial sunlight blindingly filtered in. Yet it wasn’t enough to deter their owner, as they opened once again, this time a bit more slowly to allow them to properly adjust. It was as the announcement was made a second time that she finally moved, rising to her feet and stretching as the train gently came to a stop, a yawn escaping her lips as she worked out the kinks in her body brought on a deliberate lack of proper sleep. Grabbing her purse, she made to join the throng of people exiting the train. Unable to resist the release of another deep yawn, she glanced up at the information board that highlighted the incoming and outgoing shuttles, idly noting that her shuttle to Akkadia One was still running on time. Fortunately, that on time was still another hour and a half away, which would allow her to exorcise her current status for something a tad bit better.

Satisfied with that goal, she made her way to a nearby cafe, ordering herself an espresso and finding herself a seat outside the cafe, allowing the combination of warm artificial sunlight and caffeine to slowly drag her awake. It was only after half of the espresso had been consumed that she felt suitable enough to deal with the other facets of her early morning. Withdrawing her phone from her purse, she touched the screen and brought up a holographic display. Lazily perusing it, she found what she wanted, before setting it down upon the table at an angle and tapping an icon.

It responded immediately at the command input, light generating up into the air and coalescing to provide a mirror image for her to inspect. Under ordinary circumstances, the visage of deep dark circles under her eyes, and lightly mussed black hair with arctic white strips on one side lazily tied into a messy ponytail would have been enough for the weekend; unfortunately, it wasn’t for where she was going.

Sighing deeply, she dug back into her purse and withdrew a brush and some make-up with the firm intent of concealing her late evening from the type of parties who would voice their opinion rather vigorously to her chagrin. Luckily, she had been fortunate in the genetic lottery, requiring only a few minutes to touch herself up and make herself appear respectable again. Satisfied that at least she had that fire put out, she closed the application before ordering another espresso and a snack, taking the time as she finished polishing off the bitter drink by reading through social media. It was as the second espresso was placed before her, with a small cake, that the holographic display changed to show that she had an incoming call. Reading the name, she couldn’t help the sigh that escaped her lips as she felt a headache that she thought she had been free of from last night begin anew. Knowing that refusing to answer the call would only delay the inevitable, she hit the activation stub, watching as the screen changed to the image of an older, near-spitting image of herself if she had a medium tan and hazel-green eyes.

“I just sat down,” she began, trying, and failing, to keep the irritation out of her tone. It was honestly too early to deal with this, yet it appeared that she had no choice in the matter.

“Well hello to you too, Samantha,” Amelie Delacroix responded with a hint of tart of her own, “I just wanted to let you know that your father won’t be there to pick you up when you arrive. The hospital called him again. Your grandfather’s treatment suffered another setback and they want to consult with him on what the options are going forward.”

Samantha grimaced, feeling a bit guilty for her initial attitude now. Grayson Knight, her grandfather, had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s nearly six years ago. Normally, such a thing would have been easily treatable, almost an afterthought, but the elder Knight had been one of the few who were resistant to the general treatment. It had been a slow, inexorable, decline that had been made only more difficult for her because her grandfather had been the man who had largely raised both her older brother and herself.

“How bad is it,” she found herself asking, not wanting, yet at the same time wanting to know.

There was a long pause from her mother, before she slowly shook her head, “Alexander didn’t say,” she finally said, “but he sounded,” she paused again, obviously looking for the right word, “defeated.”

Nodding dejectedly, she took a sip from her espresso. There wasn’t much she could say on the subject that had not already been gone over so many times before. It was the harsh reality of the situation.

“By the way,” Amelie started, obviously looking to change away from the unhappy subject, “I never got your progress report.”

“Mom,” she groaned, not liking the subject matter, “really?”

“Sam, please don’t tell me you’re coming home with less-than-pleasant news,” her mother demanded, “it’s the last thing either your father or I need. There’s a lot of money riding on your education.”

This time she couldn’t help but scowl, “Yeah, a lot of dad’s money, Mom. It’s not like you bothered to ask what I wanted to do with my life before spending the money.”

The groan from the other end was audible, as Amelie took the time to rub her forehead, “Sam, we’ve had this discussion before. Even Alexander agrees you have a lot of potential at being a good lawyer. It’s a good-paying job, and you already have a foot in the door at your grandfather’s firm. Please don’t tell me you’re throwing all of that away.”

"Maybe being a lawyer is in my future, Mom. But I just don’t feel it right now. I’m twenty-five and you’ve spent the last decade planning my future without any of my input. If you want to lose me like you did Isaiah, you can keep this up, or you can just let me breathe.”

It was cruel of her to do this, but frankly, she was just over it. It wasn’t the matter of her mother understanding her situation and her unhappiness with it, she was just sick and tired of her obsession with planning her future. It was why she was pretty sure her older brother, Isaiah, had left three years ago. It hadn’t mattered to their mother and father that he was working a job that paid handsomely and left him financially secure; they had disapproved because it was with the military. She could still remember the arguments that had raged in the household for years after the Second Earth-Space War. They had hounded Isaiah to resign his commission insisting that he get a real job despite the plaudits and laurels he had accrued during his meteoric rise in the military after his conscription at the age of fifteen. She didn’t know what had been going through his head towards the end, but there had been no warning when he suddenly resigned his commission and disappeared. It had honestly been the final nail in the coffin of their already fracturing family, with her parents divorcing in all but reality, and her father withdrawing himself from their daily lives. But the worst part of it all was that it had deprived her of the brother she had looked up to, providing an example that she could only hope to emulate. It was largely why she was doing what she was now, following in his footsteps in a way.

“If it’ll make you feel better, Mom,” she decided to offer an olive branch, “it’s not like I don’t have a job at the moment. My third month’s paycheck from Hexa cleared last night if it’s money you’re so worried about."

“Being a mercenary,” was the spat answer, “Sam, you have no idea who you are getting in bed with. Vincent Vrey is never in your life going to be a man you can trust."

Isaiah never seemed to have a problem with him, Sam had to fight the urge to retort that factoid, knowing damned well it'd only incense her mother further. She didn't know why both her parents looked poorly upon the CEO of Hexa International, only that they had some sort of irrational dislike for a man who had been quite supportive of her joining the Infinity Project.

“Don’t worry, Mom, all Mister Vrey pays me to do is to do routine simulation checks, and when I have the time, I get to do a few real test runs with other pilots. Nothing too serious, and the pay’s plenty good enough.”

It was obvious to her that her mother wasn’t buying it, but if she didn’t want to accept that this was what she wanted, then that was her problem. She was done trying to make her parents happy by making herself miserable, and if that caused her to break with them like Isaiah, so be it. Not like she was cutting off one’s nose to spite one’s face.

“Whatever,” Amelie finally said, recognizing the impasse, “you get to explain to your father your new life goals, he’ll be absolutely delighted in your choice,” and Sam couldn’t help but wince. Yeah, just what she wanted, another one of those quiet, awkward conversations with her father that he only seemed to have with her when he could be bothered, or when her mother had badgered him enough, “and you may want to make sure Mr. Vrey,” she sneered at the name, “doesn’t decide to alter his deal with you and ship you Earthside to show off his toys. See you at dinner.”

And with that, she cut the link, leaving Sam staring at emptiness for a few moments before her mind began processing what had been said. That very next moment she immediately accessed her phone, looking through the recent news from Earth. It was a poorly hidden fact to anyone within the family that her mother had never really retired from her clandestine establishment, despite claims to the contrary. While she may no longer be taking part in field operations, she still kept her toes in the metaphorical water, keeping herself informed on events in the Earth sphere that fit within her job as a ‘security consultant’. As much as she wanted not to admit it, there was a distinct possibility that despite the cattiness of the moment, there was some truth to what she was saying.

Can’t be Dhaka or Yangon, she thought to herself, continuing her perusal, if Mister Vrey was going to do something with me like that, it would have been during the initial rollout. And it appears they are contained at the moment, so it wouldn’t make sense to deploy me there.

Her brow furrowed, switching tracks as she quickly logged into the message board that served the various members of Project Infinity. If she wanted any scuttlebutt on what may be on the horizon, it was likely to be there. It only took her a few more minutes, but she found her possible answer.

Where the hell is Colombia, she thought to herself, even as she selected the news link, replacing the screen with a video feed of a reporter in front of a massive dilapidated bipedal mech sprawled over the crumbled remains of the building it had collapsed upon. The mech had significant cosmetic damage to it along with the evidence of a lack of maintenance, but the most telling damage was the large hole rent in the chest of the mech where the cockpit bloc was. It was easy to tell by her eyes that that had been the killing blow.

“Local Colombian paramilitary officials have confirmed reports on the identity of the pilot of the Allied A-7 behind me as Tomas Secada, a former Staff Sergeant of the now-defunct Confederation military and veteran of the Second Earth-Space War. Secada was part of an attack by anti-government insurrectionists upon the parliament building that was repelled by the local paramilitary groups. While an investigation is now underway as to how a mechanized bipedal unit found its way into the hands of terrorists, sources have confirmed that Secada has been identified as one of the ringleaders of the current unrest plaguing Colombia. This is the latest in a series of escalations that have gripped the capital here in Bogota after protestors took to the streets nearly three months ago after President Torres refused to acknowledge demands to reform the government and relinquish more authority and representation to the open public. President Torres also made remarks this morning on how violence needs to be off everyone’s list of acceptable paths to change.”

Sam then flicked the screen down as she saw an image that caught her full attention. She clicked on it to enlarge, pressing play soon after.

“These you see here were once prototype quarter-scale mechanized bipedal infantry, also known as LTACs, that have been showing up in the aftermath of the A-7 assault on the parliament,” a different reporter’s voice read aloud, speaking of the smoldering remains of what was a mech but paled in comparison to the size of most mechs of the era as it sat between two apartment buildings on a 6 lane-wide street. “It’s been six months since the AiX raid on Hexa International’s testing grounds in Australia. It’s still to be determined who has found ways to reproduce these smaller mechs, but their proficiency for urban combat has been proven quite deadly, as the protesting guerilla forces across various locations around the globe have utilized them with much more success against government military forces trying to put a stop to it all.”

“That’s the Bernaud variety, but I guess the news can’t say that,” Sam said to herself under her breath. “I guess things are progressing faster than they led on, and maybe I might have to upgrade my status from simulation sit-by’s to active roster.”

“Hexa International CEO and Founder Vincent Vrey met with Greece’s prime minister earlier last night and held talks of the hastening of their recruitment centers which are planned for use in conjunction with any hiring government in need of bolstered security, especially areas under threat of attack by the unidentified underground-led protest groups.” Sam shifted her posture as she accidentally knocked a napkin off of the table. As she chased it, the reporter continued: “Protest groups still clamor for the restoration of the Worldwide International Confederacy which had been dissolved on August 1st of 2163, just months after the end of the 2nd Earth-Space War. The common theme remains that the main powers refuse to divide aid and protect trade relations as they once did during the Confederacy and that the end of the Confederacy brought about the rapidly rising poverty rates in certain countries that needed such programs to remain in place.”

“That’s the message, Ms. Choi,” another reporter’s voice said as Sam took her seat back. “Representatives, who aren’t yet confirmed to be official, have spoken with us on their key concerns. They resort to violence as they can’t find any other means to bring about international attention to their circumstances.” The continued images showed neighborhoods wrecked by not only poverty but violence as well. “Countries such as those in Southeast Asia had normalized wealth distribution curves never seen prior to the 2100’s, but the disruption brought about by the sudden breakup of the Confederacy has sent those numbers crashing, putting them in worse situations than any living generation has seen. We are talking about 2040’s to 2060’s here, pre-World War 3 decades here. But they continued by saying that while the military response was expected, the security package forces starting to get sent in by the space proxy giant Hexa International has been the largest possible slap in the face-”

Sam turned off the feed. “That’s enough, tired of hearing all that bullshit.” She grabbed her things and headed for the shuttle boarding gate. As she continued her brisk pace, she tapped her earpiece once more: “Yeah, I am about to board now… damn right I got wiped out, barely with the living as we speak, hoping this shit I took gets me past the hangover. Forget the exam, I got other plans… No, not that… nevermind, hey, I gotta go- will get with you later, girl. Bye.”

Talking briefly with her friend did nothing to placate the knot in her stomach. She knew she had nothing to look forward to in her brief return home. Just get past this and everything will go back to how it was, she told herself. But who was she kidding? Part of her insisted that this be a visit where she undoes that something to make things never go back to how they were.

▽　▽　▽

A small, brightly white painted shuttle craft sped past a Space Traffic Control station as it headed for a large satellite facility just beyond the farthest end of Eden Territory’s outermost and largest space nation, Akkadia One. The facility was just coming into view as the sunlight coming from the other side of Earth broke the eclipse, illuminating its features that were unique to old war fortresses and outposts. Turret emplacements had been long-since removed, but the battered shielding that surrounded them remained, serving perhaps as a war memorial judging by its appearance alone, although the myriad of circling commercial and industrial shuttles suggested otherwise.

Retroboosters firing, the white passenger shuttle eased in and pulled up to the farthest-reaching dock to the station as it latched onto it, synchronizing itself with the rotational speed that provided the artificial gravity. After the dozen passengers adjusted to that change and their regaining of their sense of weight, they disembarked and found their way beyond the connecting terminal where multiple posters read “Welcome to Jazira Station” and into the main atrium where they saw what resembled many of the spaceports found across the territory.

“Here to see Director Channing,” the young woman up front spoke with a greeting nod, placing her feet over the ID mat in front of the check-in counter. The screen on the other end of the counter read “Daja Castille - Hexa International – Recruitment Specialist” along with the displaying of the face recognition check.

“Sorry, Ms. Castille, she just checked out this morning. Mr. Vrey sent out an emergency notice, calling for several Directors to meet at the West Pacific Number Six immediately. She won’t be back for a few weeks I’m afraid,” the receptionist replied as she reached for a mobile scanner and placed it on the counter between them. “But she did leave assignments for her recruiter groups, including yours. Please accept the files she left,” she continued, motioning them to place their mobiles over the scanner.

“Are you kidding?” the woman fussed to her peers as she scanned her mobile, pulling it back to review the files received. “Sorry,” she spoke back to the receptionist with a smile that begged forgiveness. “We just seemed to have run into a lot of last-minute cancellations today. But we have other business here so we will be on our way. Thank you!” She stepped off to the side as the others checked in, glancing at her screen that showed the first file uploaded. “Oh wow, can you believe Nguyen ended up getting shipped to Bangladesh? When did this happen?”

“Oh, that kid?” a slightly older man asked as he too stepped away from the check-in counter and walked over to join her. “I remember him, the kid from Casares, right?”

“Right. That’s the guy my boss told me to aim for since our space-side recruit numbers have been dwindling, but some other group snatched him.” She then started chuckling, rocking back and forth on her heels. “Sam was supposed to join us as well,” she added with a shrug of disappointment. “She’s normally here so much it’s almost like she lives here. Strange she’s been gone for over a week, now.”

“She had a big exam, didn’t she?” another younger man asked as he rejoined the group.

“She does, technically, but it’s not like she has any intention of passing,” she answered back with a roll of her eyes. “She and her buddies were supposed to go out tonight, knowing good and damn well that we had this one night locked out of our schedule.”

“Hah, what’s the deal on her anyway? I keep hearing her name,” a second young woman joined as she overheard the conversation. “That Knight girl, right? The one with the Harbinger dad and brother?”

“Oh, yeah, Alexander and Isaiah Knight, I think”

“Right, those guys.” The air around them stiffened at the mention of those names. “And little Sammy, fresh out of school and no tag to her name to keep her from the game… living that Hexa Pilot Trainee motto, deep prior knowledge of warfare equipment, excellent results with pilot training, good academic records, solid references, and a clean, healthy lifestyle,” she spoke with thick sarcasm as she quoted the recruitment pitch in a manner that could convince anyone within earshot she had recited it ad nauseum over her career.

Preface Part 1 (OPTIONAL)

It is the year 2176. It’s been thirteen years since a thirty-six-month war raged between politically and fundamentally different ideals of the global confederacy RANE, the original union of space nations known as Eden, and a breakaway union of space nations known as Casares, ending in a treaty that not only prevented further use of trade embargoes or sanctions as a weapon between the Earth and space, but also dissolved the global confederacy RANE effective months after the signing of the treaty. That war was already the second war of its kind, which happened ten years prior over space colony rights, leading to their independence from the Earth. It doesn’t seem that the current events are pointing to any global scale war like before whatsoever, yet the tension levels within each troubled nation could be argued an equal level as they were during the war. Many nations did not take the dissolution of the confederacy well, and power struggles that were solved by central authorities left the void to be filled by more corrupt individuals even by comparison to those in power prior to the confederacy. This led to problems such as explosions in poverty levels and exponential wealth gap increases in as short as a year, crippling what used to be strong, healthy economies. As a result, many of these struggling nations without assistance from their former partner nations are seeing massive uprisings and surges in violence, using any means necessary to gather the desired attention to their cause, expecting either intervention or for the ruling parties to step down. Ultimately, most of what they were clamoring for was either the restoration of their prosperity they were stripped of, or the restoration of the confederacy, which seemed to be the farthest from realistic without a major turn of opinion by major world powers (and in turn violating the treaty). What remains to fill the void if either happens is yet to be determined, but until then, what has been observed is that the affected countries either fight to suppress the protesting and violence, or they see their hopelessness and reach out to hire outside help to do the suppressing.

Hexa International was formed by former Vrey Robotics (Hong Kong) CEO and Founder Vincent Vrey not long after the Second Earth-Space War with its headquarters established in Akkadia One rather than back on Earth. His products were focused on making use of his robotic technology in in-home appliances and life essentials such as those with special medical needs. But because of his history in the previous war with mech warfare and their operating systems, his expertise was bought up by former Sumerian military giant Mugen, and the ideas to create the desired security forces began in 2174, where the first drafts of the concept LTAC (Light-duty TACtics) were drawn up. These smaller mechs were about a fourth of the size of a typical MBI such as the A-7 or the Sumere (~5m tall vs ~20m) from the last war, built to handle lighter combat within packed urban environments and cause as little collateral damage as possible. The first LTAC designs, labeled the Hexa AiX models, were first tested in artificial, simulated Earth gravity at the Akkadia-operated Jazira Station not far from Eden. When they were being loaded back up for return after testing, one cargo ship was stolen after an ambush, disappearing off to somewhere on Earth. The Jaziran Heist marked the beginning of the harshest uptick in resistance violence across the globe as a popular underground dealer Bernaud reverse engineered the Hexa-made AiX, using them with extreme effectiveness against urban combat-designed tanks and armored vehicles. Not long after, the unidentifiable powers utilizing such tactics began to take on a new identity “The Underground”. This gave rise to the demand by various countries for LTAC provisions, by which Hexa had to make their own internal changes before planning as to whether or not they would benefit filling out such orders.

After deliberation for a year, on August 2nd, 2175, Infinity launched. This was Hexa International’s volunteer security program they created to not only make official use of their LTAC-based services where requested, they would also provide trained pilots, tactical and logistics leaders, and mechanical crews. These security packages would be leased to the countries providing pay, and not long after, several Earth countries began requesting the building of Infinity recruitment centers within their borders to hasten and ease accessibility and support. The original recruitment center started in Akkadia One, followed by one in Casares, then was followed by the first Earth-based center in Athens, Greece. By this day, there are a total of twelve Infinity recruitment hubs on Earth.

Recruitment wasn’t exactly simple, however, when public image and reputation would be of utmost importance. Former pilots of the previous war initially seemed quite drawn to the ample pay, insurance benefits, travel opportunities, housing, and bonuses as a great way to re-establish their place in life, but Vincent made it clear with his direction with Infinity. Global security was of utmost importance, but right alongside it would be maintaining consistency and rationality. He knew the protests were not of anything sinister, but something that had to be contained, subdued, and controlled to allow more peaceful solutions to come about, which was right in toe with what each hiring government preached. He had to have high standards for the recruits, and since a stable psyche was one of the ideal requirements, he closed off all recruiting from any former war pilot. This angered many but couldn’t be helped. This is how Samantha A. Knight got her position after recruitment. She was the daughter of two former war pilots and a graduate of the Akkadian Naval Prep Academy (High School), currently enrolled in Gehret Memorial Law School in Sumeria. She was also a prime example of the qualities desired: deep prior knowledge of warfare equipment, excellent results with pilot training, good academic records, solid references, and a clean, healthy lifestyle.