I've been chained up in this hospital bed for two days now. Literally. After my second escape attempt, they felt they had no choice.

I kick another one of the books Angela dumped on me off of my bed. It's hard to understand how she can read such corny dramas, and impossible to comprehend why she would think other people would want to do the same. Besides, I can hardly turn the pages with one hand in shackles.

"You could have just told me you didn't want them..." Angela looks crestfallen in the doorway. She shuffles into the room and places a floral-patterned tin onto her favorite chair, then sets about picking up all of her books.

"I didn't want to hurt your feelings." I lie. "What's in the tin?"

"Sour cakes." She responds. "My mom made them for us to share, but I think I'll just eat them myself." She sets her books in a neat pile on the floor and opens the tin, making sure I can smell the cakes.

I try to grab one, but she sits down just out of reach. She bites half of one cake off with more exaggeration than her annoying books.

"If you don't share them, your guts going to end up as fat as your cheeks." I warn her.

Reluctantly, she throws a cake at me.

"What happened to you?" She asks. "I lost consciousness after the explosion, but my dad told me they self-destructed after we beat them...how did you do it?"

I wait until she gives me another cake to answer.


As much as I love Red Horns, waking up to the sound of one thundering towards my near-totaled zoid is a genuinely unpleasant experience. Thankfully, my Tiger is still responding, but it's not moving fast enough to get out of the way of this one beast stampede.

Angela flashes in from my left and barely knocks the Horn off path. It stumbles onward for a while and falls. She's on top of it in an instant and an intermittent video feed tells me she's making the arrest.

I'm tempted to surrender to the overwhelming urge to pass out, but something in Angela's voice catches my attention. Through the damaged feed, I can see three enemy pilots in the same cockpit...

The realization of what's about to happen jolts me wide awake. The Field Tigers were slow, clunky and used a fatally basic formation against me. It wasn't because the pilots were unskilled...they were using remote controls! Their plan had always been to self-destruct the Tigers after we had engaged.

Angela is blown away before I can warn her, though I'm far enough back to avoid further serious damage. The Horn is largely unharmed as well, despite having been right in between the two explosions. It lumbers towards me, sounding another triumphant bellow.

I can feel the blood being squeezed out of my hands because I'm gripping my sliders so fiercely. My left eye is glued shut too because of the wound I feel throbbing on my head. Even so, I have no doubt about what to do in this situation. I know everything about Red Horns. Every weapon, every asset...every weakness.

I lunge as best I can right before it hits. I can feel my Tiger splintering under its weight, but by ramming its shoulder into the Horn's knee, I take one of its legs with me. The force of the blow sends me careening towards unconsciousness, but not before the Horn begins bashing its head against my cockpit. I can't stop a bitter smile...even though I lost, he won't be able to move before he's caught...and the punishment for deserting is far worse than death.


"But you didn't die." Angela deadpans.

"I've got twelve lives." I inform her. "And you owe me one, by the way."

She holds out the tin. "Take it or leave it."

Wagner walks into the room carrying my lunch. He looks disapprovingly at the tin of cakes.

"What happened?" Angela asks him. "My dad said we beat them, but...neither of us remembers doing it."

Wagner sits at the foot of my bed and smiles. "You'd have to ask Duke; all I know is that the radio operator complained about being harassed by him."

I cock my head questioningly, but don't stop devouring the cakes.


The King's orders were not to interfere. I was to observe and assess only.

However, it is also my solemn duty to apprehend a deserter should I encounter one. A duty that supersedes even the King's authority. Even so, I see no benefit in reminding him of that.

"We're done here." I say over the radio. "All targets have been subdued; requesting evac teams for cadets Angela Baker and Raika Wagner."

"Two evac teams?" The dispatcher sighs. "So that means the cadets failed the test?"

"No, they did not fail."

"Both cadets need evac, but they defeated the deserters?"

"Funny you should ask." I don't bother hiding the contempt in my voice. "I thought it was a rather simple concept to comprehend."