In between the lurches and haphazard dodges, I struggle to get my restraining belt on. It's hard to think when my head is bashing into either side of my cockpit every two seconds.

The Stealther is clearly an experienced pilot. No matter how fast I turn around, it's impossible to actually get a look at him, despite his stealth dropping for a second when he fires. I've been careening all over the hangar for several minutes now and only know what color the zoid is because the commander felt it was 'relevant information.'

"Bad news!" I yell out loud, forcing myself to think. "This jerk is invisible so I can't attack him! Good news! His guns suck and he can't do real damage without a lucky hit!"

"That's a good ana-" The commander starts, but I don't have time for him right now.

"Solution!" I interrupt. "Make him visible using myself as a trap!"

I can hear him balking on the other end of the radio. "Just how do you plan t-"

"Where's your painting dock?" I yell while sidestepping another shot. "Get it ready with the ugliest color you've got!"

"South wall, center!" He barks back. "Ready in thirty seconds! Using primer because it's heavier!"

"Whatever! Make it twenty seconds!"

It takes me fifteen seconds to reach the dock with the Stealther still hot on my tail. Rolling my eyes, I intentionally botch a dodge, allowing the enemy to cripple my Tiger's other rear leg. Nonetheless, I clear the painting area at eighteen seconds exactly.

Three seconds later, the ceiling and floor mounted jets spray a thick coat of primer all over the Stealther. It tries to stop immediately, resulting in an out-of-control slide on the slick floor.

I wheel around as quickly as possible, ignoring a shot that puts a harmless gash on my Tiger's face. My head is still pounding, but I have no trouble imagining his face as he slides helplessly into my toothy embrace.

It isn't until a full minute after the Helcat stops writhing that my breathing returns to normal. Despite the Saber's recommendation, I would have preferred to fight the thing with my cane than send a child into combat.

To her credit, she handled the situation better than most...but her actions were foolishly reckless. Even Amaranth, the Saber, agreed that his daughter had a stunted sense of danger.

I had switched to audio only communication so that she wouldn't know he had come to watch. Initially, I wanted him to join her, but he seemed convinced that the enemy would rather blow up the hangar and die than try to fight a Red Horn.

"She's good." He starts. "But she's not ready for the front-lines...are there any low combat positions here?" I can tell by his pained smile that he knows what a ludicrous question that is.

"There are, actually." I respond. "Before we came under siege, we had two students and a civilian visiting...they insisted on helping, so I tasked them with recovering fallen zoids in the immediate area."

He nods approvingly. "Just tell her she's been assigned...I'll deal with the rest later."

I feel a knot forming in my throat. Sending a child on corpse duty seems just as cruel a fate.