“Good thing we’re spicy.”
Aria doesn’t answer, but her focus sharpens. I feel it. Like a light beam knifing through fog.
“Sync’s holding,” she says. “By some miracle.”
“Not a miracle,” I say. “You’re letting me in.”
Silence.
Then, softer: “Yeah. I am.”
We stare through the cockpit view together as the monster begins to turn. Slowly. Deliberately.
It sees us.
“Alright, big guy,” I whisper. “Let’s dance.”
Whiplash hums under me like it’s alive — not machine, not metal, but muscle and heartbeat.
Every vibration crawls up through the cockpit, through my spine, until it feels like I’m the one purring. I can taste the electricity on the air, that sharp ozone bite that means the atmosphere’s about to tear itself in half.
Aria drops into her seat beside me, a blur of motion — quick hands, focused eyes.
She’s all business, as usual, except I can feel her heartbeat through the Meld tether even before we’re linked. It’s fast. Controlled, but fast. She’s scared, but she’s not letting it own her. That’s the difference between her and everyone else. Fear doesn’t slow her down. It sharpens her.
“Stabilizers online,” she says, breath hitching just slightly. “Capacitor coils charged. Wind resistance climbing.”
“Let it climb,” I growl. “We’ll give it something to scream about.”
The mech rocks as a gust slams against us, and the entire hull shivers like it’s made of glass.
The kaiju’s roar hits a second later — low, guttural, and so deep it makes my organs vibrate. The sound doesn’t just come through the comms. It comesthrough the ground. Through the planet itself. It’s like standing inside a thunderclap that refuses to end.
“Seismic readings spiking!” Aria shouts. “It’s moving faster than projected!”
“Then we’ll move faster,” I say, grinning even as the cockpit rattles. “Open the Meld.”
She hesitates. Just a flicker. I feel it — the question, the wall. But this time, she doesn’t lock it down.
The neural bridge opens with a hiss like pressure equalizing. The lights in the cockpit flicker as the sync field hums to life — that blue halo between us blooming bright enough to paint her face in ghostlight.
I close my eyes andreach.
She’s there.
Like gravity — impossible to ignore, dangerous to fight.
I feel her mind brush mine, cautious at first, like fingertips hovering over flame. But then the contact deepens, and suddenly, it’s not just sound or thought — it’s sensation.
Her breath in my lungs.
My pulse in her throat.
Her logic sparking against my instinct like flint on steel.
It’s dizzying. Addictive. Terrifying.
“Easy,” I murmur. “Just breathe.”
