Mother Besha, the one who helped us hotskins get acquainted with our new skills, told me to listen to how things feel in order to replicate their properties.
For years, I bottled up how I felt. I served as a soldier and then as a slave, watching Brothers and humans die. I pull that feeling to the front of my mind, the agonizing,soul-shatteringmisery of human blood on my hands as Solcrue commanded my cybernetic body remotely. I disassembled bodies of Brothers. I hauled human practice mates by their hair to their Masters.
All the self-loathing, guilt, and rage from being unable to decommission myself to prevent further harm fizzles up in sharp waves.
Time Remaining: 0:43.
The pulses hum through my palms, into the glass, sending violent cracks racing over its surface.
Time Remaining: 0:37.
Fear that another female will die because of me makes me growl in frustration. The pod turns white with fractures. I rear a fist back and smash my knuckles through the glass. It caves, and I peel open the tempered layers. Frantically throwing my gloves back on, I free her from the pod and search her suit for life support access.
Time Remaining: 0:25.
The alert blinks red in my vision.
I know. I fucking know!
Ripping the cable from my suit’s pack, I clip it into the port near her back. For a second, nothing happens.
Then a light blinks on in her visor, and another.
My visor shows oxygen and power transferring. Heater’s kick on in her suit as mine shut down. That’s okay. I don’t need them. I am simply more efficient with oxygen and heat. It is a small sacrifice for a life that cannot handle what I can.
I open coms to local frequencies, hoping hers is working.
“Hey! Can you hear me?”
When she doesn’t respond, I clutch her to me and make my way back to my ship. My programs are still running assessments, but they suggest she is alive.
I hope they are right.
Chapter 5: Aera
Someone heard me. I barely catch the sound of glass breaking and crack open my eyes to bright light and furious cybernetic eyes. A monstrosity of a Titan. Shattered glass. Hands reaching inside.
Panic strikes my nerves, but my body does not respond.
They’re close, but I am so very cold, so close to death. Heat has shut off. The only thing left is what remains of my oxygen, and I’m down to seconds. I breathe slowly, not by choice. I feel the space reaper’s grip around my lungs: frigid, firm, and numbing. Consciousness slips my grasp. I’m just not strong enough to hold on.
“Ten seconds remaining,” my suit’s automated system informs me.
I know.Tears try to form, but I am too dehydrated, too cold…too far gone.
I suck in another haggard breath that rattles my lungs because there is so little oxygen left.
“Five seconds.”
Please…
A large arm wraps around my waist as my suit shuts down.
“Goodbye.”
Something snaps into my suit. The click is distant in my fading mind, but the rush of oxygen that pours in is a sound that I cling to.
A memory of my mother filling pink balloons for my seventh birthday party comes back to me, then fades into darkness.
