Later in the night I find a secluded alcove of the cave that is untouched by the stink of blood. Sitting there, I stare out at the valley through a gash in the rock wall, absently tapping on my knee, listening to the squad bed down for the night. They don't want me down there with them. It was clear to me in their clipped words and sideways glances far before Vicks asked me to keep watch.

I try to lose myself in minor tasks, seeking oblivion in stripping the CAR they gave me. I work under the moonlight, unloading and reloading it, practicing in the near dark until I can do it with my eyes closed. I count and arrange the ninety-seven bullets, spit-polish them, then blow any dust out of the magazines before reinserting them.

Finally I slump down against the rocky wall, field blanket pulled over me, wishing I could fall asleep in my Titan's warm cockpit with my head laying on the heat sinks of his humming reactor. My thoughts wander to VN and I wonder if the metal bastard made it to the ground, or if the Aurelius took him with her in orbit.

Boots crunching on gravel announce someone approaching me far before a silhouette materializes out of the cave's gloom. Growing in definition as it gets closer, I see that it's the third member of Vicks' squad. I don't know his name, but I notice that his trimmed beard and glasses are now free of dust.

He tenses for a moment, staring at his boots, then his posture sags and he walks up to me.

"You see those lights in the sky? Those aren't stars," he says, pointing to the gash in the rock. "The ones that move, those are ships in orbit. A whole fleet."

I cock my head to the side, eyebrows rising.

"Oh, yeah. I suppose I should introduce myself." He salutes. "Trevor Lawton. Rifleman, or something. I'm not the greatest shot." He laughs a little bit and rubs the back of his head. "Just wanted to introduce myself, as I was a little out of it when you found us."

My wrist computer beeps as I power it up. He gives it an odd look. I write, 'It's okay. Shell shock will do that to you.' I show it to him, then erase it and type, 'What was that about stars?'

He's right. I look back up and see a cluster of lights in the sky that move slowly down and east, untethered from the cosmic wheel of stars.

"A benefit of having an astronomy degree," he says. "You can tell if they're IMC or Militia too, from the orbit, although that's much more complicated. I could teach you though."

Why is an astronomer in the Militia? I think. And did he just come up here to talk about how smart he is?

'Another time,' I write. 'Are you here to talk or do you need something?'

His eyes widen. "Oh! Yeah. Vicks sent me up here to get you. She found your Titan."

VN-2577 made it down the gravity well? I open my mouth reflexively to ask how the fuck, but he raises his hand and says, "Go ask Vicks, not me. Her and Callahan are planning a route to the evacuation zone and want your input."

I nod, then pull myself up onto my feet. He watches silently as I sling the CAR over my shoulder and cock my pistol, check the ammo readout, and put the safety on. I holster it and turn to Trevor. He starts turning away and I hold up a finger to stop him, then point to what I just wrote on my wrist computer.

He reads it and chuckles. "Who is the person with the apple? That'd be Sara. She hardly talks to anyone."

I write, 'Why?'

"Like the rest of us, she has something waiting for her back home." He shrugs. "It just so happens that she's much more tightly bound to it."

I don't need to know anything more. Everyone has a name at the bottom of their Militia military record, one that they wrote on a small, black-lined sheet of paper the day they signed up. That's the first person they call if you die. To some, that name is what keeps them together; to others, it's what shakes them apart. I make a mental note to talk to Vicks about her.

Trevor follows me back to down to the main part of the cave and points to another tunnel that leads deeper in. "That's the real entrance, the one we didn't blow up with these godforsaken bombs. Vicks and Callahan went out to secure your Titan. If you hurry you can catch them before they arrive."

I nod and set off, walking past Sara, who is just finishing her apple. She tosses the core over her shoulder and stares at the ground. My eyes dart down to the P2016s that rest on each of her legs. I pass her silently, following the waypoint on my wrist computer that Trevor marked.

Callahan's pitched voice is the first thing I hear. Then the low hum of an ionized shield reaches my ears and a weight in my gut lifts. I round a boulder, having walked through the cave and over a small plain, and find Vicks. Her face is washed blue by the light of a Titan's drop-shield.

I see him next. His lean metal figure dwarfs Callahan, casting a long shadow in the moonlight. Crouched down and arms folded, waiting for a Pilot, as if it were just moments after Titanfall.

VN-2577, Stryder chassis, Ronin class. He is at the center of a small sunken clearing, surrounded by shallow walls of dirt that clumps of scrubby grass cling to. Rings of dirt and rock radiate from his feet, thrown back by his landing, frame the hex-tiled bubble shield around him.

Callahan's eyes are glazed, and he walks toward VN as if he is in a dream.

"Get back," Vicks says, grabbing his shoulder. "This the first time you've seen a Titan? It's in standby mode. We have to wait for Pilot Riggs to disable the shield." She glances back and sees me walk into the clearing.

VN suddenly moves, joints hissing and creaking, into an upright position. His shield drops and I see small marks on the cockpit that look like tiny scuffs on the metal. I know better, and note that he needs a systems check before any major combat operations. He draws his sword, a crude metal pillar twice as long as I am tall, and stabs it, point first, into the soft dirt.

"Fuck," Callahan says, his voice cracking. I couldn't have said it better myself.

I massage an ear with one hand, wishing I would have put on my helmet under my other arm before VN moved. No time to waste on bruised eardrums though. I push back my hair and put my helmet on, then walk up to Vicks.

'First thing they tell you out of sims is that Titans are way louder than you think they are,' I write.

Vicks reads it and shoots me a look, eyes twinkling. "All right, Pilot, how long until you and your sonic Titan are ready to kick some IMC ass? We got pinged by the Militia reinforcements in the system, and they've set up an extraction zone several miles west."

'Full systems check first. Ships in orbit?'

She shifts her weight back and looks at the stars. "Our info is spotty. As far as we know the IMC is still camped over the planet, slinging nukes, and our ships are slowly advancing towards us. Advisor gave us a timeline of dropships down the well in five."

'Five hours to walk a couple miles?'

"Yeah, that and the IMC," Vicks says.

She's right. One Titan and four soldiers against an entire IMC ground force. At least the weather is peachy. I walk towards VN and ping him with an embark command. The front of his chest opens, waiting to receive me, and I hike myself up on his outstretched hand. Each of his fingers are as big as my arm and they are cold to the touch.

"Welcome, Pilot Riggs," he says in his toneless, grating voice. "It is good that you are back. We are more effective as a team." The sound feels like a solid wall and vibrates my helmet against my head.

I pull myself up and into the open cockpit, turning around and sitting myself in the single Pilot seat nestled among the levers, buttons, and screens that are needed to manually control VN. I don't link, though. Instead I twist myself up to inspect the cockpit for damage as the door closes. For a moment I'm shrouded in darkness. The front display flashes to life in a trisection and aligns the three external camera feeds, creating a seamless view of the outside world.

"Protocol 1 complete. Link to Pilot established," VN says.

He stands, jostling me as I finish my check on the all-important neural links. They're undamaged. The main display is fine, text of the three protocols flashing over the now-tiny figures of the squad, but as I work my way downwards I start to see little round marks dot the metal floor. Curious, I bite down on my glove and pull, freeing my hand, and probe it with my bare finger. It's a puncture, but the lip of the metal is smooth and unmarred. A piece of munitions didn't do this.

I move downwards to find a small collection of dents at the bottom of the cockpit. Tiny, fused hunks of metal are lodged in them. I pry one out and snort as it clicks in my brain. When the IMC nuked the Aurelius, her debris had flown through space, punched through the metal armor cleanly and bounced around like hell during entry, having lost enough kinetic energy to actually exit the Titan. With how the rest of my day has gone, I'm not surprised.

"Protocol 2: Uphold the mission," he says, his voice tinny inside the cockpit. "My sensors have gathered metadata suggesting that we are seeking extraction."

I spare a second to type a quick confirmation. His internal cameras pick up the text and he replies, "Pilot Riggs, you are not using verbal communication. Is something wrong?"

Callahan's voice reaches me through VN's speaker system, saying, "She got her neck cut up pretty bad. Severe damage to the voice box and trachea that's barely holding on."

VN is silent for a moment. "Protocol 3: Protect the Pilot… already failed." He switches his voice to the speaker system. "I am sorry that I could not be there."

I sigh. 'Don't start,' I type. 'I need you at 100% if we're going to leave this planet alive. Just forget about it.'

He is silent again, body still, until he finally says, "Acknowledged."

Right. I give his chassis a comforting slap and haul myself into the Pilot seat. Hopefully he doesn't beat himself up too much.
I feel a slight electric buzz run through my legs as I prep VN for combat, flipping startup switches and checking ammo readouts. The main display beeps to confirm that the neural links are catching my nerve impulses. My hands grip his joysticks and I flex VN's fingers like my own, feeling the invisible extra weight that the link added to my muscles.

I let VN load his Leadwall while I type something to him. He slams the massive, cyclical magazine into the Titan-sized shotgun, then projects his voice to Vicks and Callahan, saying, "Pilot Riggs has requested me to relay vocal communication to you. I shall be her mouthpiece."

He turns, the hiss of his servos muffled in the cockpit, and points toward a skyward red line on his display. "Map data suggests the extraction point is located in near an unknown IMC structure. We must reach there before extraction leaves. Failure to do so means death."

Callahan rubs the back of his head, still keeping his distance from VN. "Is that the Titan or her talking? I can't tell—"

His voice dies as VN shifts, then brings up his gun in a rush of sparks and metal. Multiple red contacts spring to life on my HUD, moving rapidly toward my position. Vicks looks over the ridge, then dives down, drawing her pistol.

"Incoming fire, please get down." VN's voice switches to the internal speakers. "Transferring manual controls to you, Pilot. The Ronin sword is yours."

I barely have time to think before the hulking figure of an IMC Titan thunders around the rock bluff, Grunts trailing around his legs, holding a shield of flame with an armored hand. The Grunts open fire, their shots falling short and hitting the soil in puffs, like the footsteps of an invisible army sprinting toward me.

Reflex sends my hands dancing over the controls. VN fires and moves right, Vicks and Callahan forming up behind me, trading fire with the incoming IMC line. VN's target finder paints the enemies in little red squares, counting and analyzing them.

I frown. Twelve Grunts and one Titan, Scorch class. A sniper round glances off VN's shoulder, reverberating with a hollow thunk as it spins into the dirt. Thirteen then, one probably with optic camouflage.

"Incoming Titan. Use of Leadwall as deterrence is recommended."

The Scorch slots a canister into his handheld launcher and fires. The thermite slug sails through the air and lands at VN's feet, spilling a crackling torrent of white flame. VN's Leadwall answers in a way typical of its name, its triple barrels briefly replacing the air with steel. The Scorch melts the rounds on his fire shield, but several of the red squares painting IMC Grunts wink out on my display. I don't bother to count them.

Callahan's voice comes over the radio. "Hello? We've fallen back and are almost to the cave. Vicks called the rest of us and were coming to assist." I hear a rapid shuffling and several popping noises. "Fucking sniper! That was close. Anyways, Vicks says to focus on the Titan. We're good with the Grunts."

"Cal, you're speaking to a superior officer," Vicks snaps, her voice coming over the comm channel. "Taking fire is not an excuse to drop formality."

"Right. Just a suggestion, Sir."

Another voice grates through an open comm channel from the Scorch, deep and grating to my ears. "Enough talk, you Militia bastards. Fight and die like soldiers."

The Scorch, now moving closer, disengages the blooming radiance of his fire shield and slams down with a closed fist. Thermite ignites and a line of fire bursts from his hand and spreads across my right flank, creating a wall of fire that cuts me off from the path to the cave.

I look to my left and see VN's sword still stuck into the ground. A savage grin creeps up the side of my face. The enemy Pilot had just unwittingly played his hand, and he was dealt jack shit. He chose to cut off my escape instead of my access to the sword, which was a rookie mistake. A Ronin-class Titan is nothing without his sword.

VN's maneuvering thrusters slam-firing sound like a bomb detonating as I strafe left, low to the ground, reaching for the sword, until I freeze. A gas shell thunks down into the dirt next to the sword.

Oh, shit. He's not a rookie.

I barely get VN's fingers on the hilt before the Scorch's thermite launcher fires and ignites the gas, sending a wave of fire washing over VN's chassis. My mouth goes dry and sweat beads on my face. Heat warnings pop up on the central console, the external cameras showing nothing but a deep red.

"Critical damage to exterior armor detected. Pilot, Scorch-class titans area denial capabilities only become more deadly in tighter spaces. Use of Phase Dash to evade is recommended," VN says.

I don't have time to type a response before the fire dissipates. The cameras readjust to the decreased light to reveal a squad of IMC Grunts sprinting toward me, arming Charge Rifles specifically designed to cut through Titan armor.

They don't get a chance to use them, as I lurch VN forward, crossing the short distance to them, and lash out with the sword. Flesh becomes red mist and more squares wink out.

"Well struck, Pilot. The Titan will not be so easy. Focus, plan, then execute."

Fire cascades past my left side, igniting the peat in the soil and completing the sloppy box of flame that surrounds me, cutting my last avenue of escape off. I grimly assess the situation, and conclude surprisingly quickly that I'm fucked.

The Scorch fires again, the movements of its hulking frame slow and deliberate. Thermite coats the ground behind VN, boxing me in even further. I have no more time, no more options and no voice. The only edge I have left is turning my boldness suicidal. I breathe out and take my hands off the joysticks, giving control back to VN.

'Do you trust me?' I type.

His reply is immediate. "Absolutely."

I nod, hoping he remembers an old trick from the sims, and pull the eject lever.

My gut stays in the Titan as the ejector charges detonate, slamming me with a solid wall of force that flings me high up into the sky. VN vanishes, replaced with the roaring of air rushing past my helmet.

I rise higher and higher, limbs heavy with inertia, watching the rocky mountain range curve into a smooth horizon line, until my momentum finally runs out and I hang weightless in the sky.

For a moment I'm flying. Not the gut-wrenching, ground-locked, imitation that my jumpkit gives, but truly flying. Then it's gone as gravity's ever-present fingers catch me and start pulling.

I come down much faster than I came up, boot heel facing downward, CAR raised. The grey shapes of VN and the Scorch rapidly gain definition and size until my depth meter pings and informs me that I'm two hundred feet up. If VN remembers the trick, one hundred to go.

I kill most of my momentum with a quick set of jumpkit bursts, my legs cycling in time with the snap-hiss of the jets for balance, and my gut drops a second time, displeased by the fact that it can't continue to fall without the rest of my body.

The depth meter hits one hundred and cheerfully informs me that my current velocity is lethal. Below me, VN has his sword up, skirting the edges of the flames that cage him. A thermite shot hits his shoulder and it erupts in flame.

He's not where he's supposed to be, I think, and burn my thrusters to slow my descent.

Suddenly VN disappears in a flash of hazy-white light, leaving behind a thin sheen of radioactive mist. He reappears on top of the Scorch, simply dropping out of nothing as the Phase Dash ends. They slam into each other in a roar of bending metal and sparking electronics and the Scorch staggers back.

A smile spreads across my face. I quickly cut my thrusters and drop like a rock, dumping the first half of the CAR's magazine as I fall toward the Scorch's quickly-approaching back. My shots ping off the thick armor, then hit dirt as the Scorch steps backward to evade VN's manic rush.

I burst my jumpkit to adjust, grit my teeth, and land on the fiery Titan's back feet-first, legs bending as I crouch to dissipate the impact. My head snaps forward and my knees groan, but I grab a handle and hang on stubbornly as the two Titans stay locked in their mortal embrace.

The Scorch throws a titanic punch, grey metal charring to black as he engages his flame shield and bathes VN's chassis in fire. Critical damage warnings go off on my HUD and my gut feels like it's still falling.

VN hits the Scorch's back, hard. I'm thrown on the handle's axis, my arm wrenching in its socket, back down toward the many packs of ammunition that are fastened along the Scorch's spine. I don't land gracefully, my helmet slamming against his metal back. The Scorch pauses, then a massive, groping hand reaches across the packs and blindly swipes over me.

My fingers find the pin of the grenade on my belt with an animal ferocity, pull it, and tuck it into the corner of a pack filled with shells the size of my head. The Scorch's hand moves down toward me, spitting a jet of fire that makes my eyes water, but I simply let go of the handle and kick off on to the ground. Something in my knee tears when I land and a lance of pain shoots up my leg.

The Scorch turns and takes one step towards me before the grenade explodes and the thermite shells catch, blowing a hole in his thick frame. He staggers and a light brighter than the sun shines through the hole, the fire burning hotter and hotter as the thermite and gas shells in his packs mix.

He takes another step forward. Black smoke billows from his frame as he raises his launcher, aiming directly at me.

I freeze.

I'm a deer in the headlights, ten feet out on an open field with a wounded leg. Even with critical damage, there's no way the Scorch is missing the shot. I can't see VN through the smoke. Where the fuck is he?

Seconds feel like years. A spark darts across the Titan's chassis in slow-motion.

I stand, frozen, until finally the Scorch's launcher wavers once, then drops as the servos fail and he falls to his knees, slumping down as his reactor loses power. The enemy Pilot ejects in a hiss of escaping steam, shooting high into the air and disappearing behind the mountains. I don't bother to try and shoot him down.

I sigh and the tension bleeds from my body. I'm alive. I've made it this far. VN's alive. There's still a chance of extraction. My knee throbs as I put weight on it but I can stand, so I push my rifle behind my back and send Vicks an all-clear on my wrist computer, idly rubbing the scar on my neck with my free hand.

The smell of rotten eggs hits my nose and a distant alarm bell goes off in my head. It clicks too late and I turn to see green mist coating the ground around my feet. The burning husk of the Scorch collapses inward on itself and the flames scatter, igniting the gas.

It explodes, flinging me into the air before I hit the dirt and everything goes black.