Sahna searched for signs of falling debris as her eyes tracked the torpedo slowly travelling across the field of view through her window. It's telltale glow made it stand out even in the light of the morning.

The light bulb on her bedroom ceiling flickered like a candle in the wind, as did other lights across the neighbourhood as people lifted their blackout curtains to begin their day. They were all used to this nuisance by now.

The light of said nuisance vanished behind a bank of cloud and Sahna examined the small electronic cartridge in her hand, turning it over carefully to look for any signs of damage. She had a backup but there was no guarantee that it had survived any better.

She glanced at her digital clock. Only two of the numbers were working now. She needed to get going. Hopefully, the attack wouldn't disrupt the recruitment fair.

She carefully retrieved a pair of pilot's wings from the top of her dresser. The left wing was broken in half, and the two were connected by a five-point star in the centre. She turned the wings over in her hand slowly, fond memories drifting across her mind's eye.

Putting them carefully into her pocket, she then donned a pair of sunglasses and her Space Forces cap, before heading downstairs.

She heard the crackling of the radio as someone turned it on, followed by the monotonous voice of the emergency broadcast system warning everyone to stay indoors until the attack had passed. They'd been through these attacks often enough that Sahna wasn't worried. All the damage the torpedoes could do had already been done.

Purdie Starburn sat on the couch next to a pair of dozing toddlers, resuming her task of sorting laundry, only to freeze when she noticed Sahna at the bottom of the stairs.

The soft flesh atop Purdie's head that comprised her mantle gradually turned a darker shade of its natural brown, down the two long tentacles draped on either side of her head, ending at the fleshy, spotted bulbs that swelled out then tapered at the tip. One rested on the couch cushion beside her, the other was gently caressing one of the children while her hands kept busy with the clothes.

Sahna's own forest green mantle flashed a lighter green in confirmation. "I'm just going to enlist. Locals always have to wait a little longer to get their orders because of all the out-of-towners they have to ship first. I'll be back by supper time at the latest."

Her iya looked despondent and stared at the floor, her mantle displaying a mix of dark browns and muddy reds, betraying her feelings of anger and helplessness. Sahna was glad that the sorrow was gone this time.

"Just don't let anyone talk you into anything stupid," she said quietly.

Sahna flashed green once more and put on her best reassuring smile as she crossed the room to the small alcove in the wall. Shelves stretched across the alcove, each one burdened with half a dozen family photos, save the top shelf which held only one.

It was a portrait of a female inkling wearing a red and white uniform with a bright-red mantle that matched her eyes, and a confident, almost cocky smile.

Sahna lightly touched the picture frame with her forehead, feeling a familiar sense of longing but also a swelling of pride she hadn't felt every other time she'd performed this ritual. Finally, she was about to take her first real step to fulfilling a childhood dream and follow in her mother's wake: she was going to start her journey to becoming a fighter pilot.

"Wish me luck, Mom," she whispered and left the house.

It was a warm day but not oppressively hot. A few traffic lights were still malfunctioning, causing chaos among the city's motorists and making it that much more difficult for her to cross the many streets on her way to the fair and delaying her progress. She'd wanted to get there early to avoid the worst of the crowds. Plenty were eager to join the war and serve their nation.

Great job, Octarians, give me another reason to want to fight you.

She looked way up as if expecting a reply from their foe far overhead. Perhaps they would send down yet another of their Goblins just to spite her.

She made it to the recruitment fair half an hour later than she'd planned and found the End's Run Convention Centre already packed with other enlistees vying for their chance to join the Calachoran Federation's Armed Forces.

A steady stream of enlistees navigated between patriotic banners hanging from every light pole, each with some kind of patriotic slogan, call to action, or advertising one of the services. Sahna already knew what she wanted to do.

It took almost an hour for her to actually get into the hall where all the recruitment tables were set up. Large video panels towered above, depicting outdated recruitment ads about all the exciting career opportunities in the various branches and services. Cities like End's Run would have all the services represented but Sahna was only interested in one.

Her mother had been a fighter pilot in the Calachoran Space Force. From before Sahna could even speak her mother had told her countless tales of her adventures, seeing far off places, strange new wonders, and blasting pirates into clouds of space debris. Ever since those first stories, Sahna had longed to do the same and become a CSF fighter pilot just like her, a beacon of righteous justice and honour, but that had been before the war.

The CSF recruiting desks were the most jam packed, which wasn't surprising. After all, everyone wanted to fight the people throwing torpedoes at them and disrupting all their electronics and phone calls. Everyone chatted excitedly with each other, mostly total strangers, asking about why they were joining, if they knew anyone already serving, or if they had heard any interesting news.

The news was rarely good. As far as she knew, they were retreating on all fronts, the CSF had been hit hard, and not even the government could have hidden the fact that the Alexandria space colony had been destroyed. Most of the 1.3 million inhabitants of the colony had been saved thanks to the stubborn resistance of the CSF and the interference of some of the neutral nations. Still, it provided ample motivation to join up and she could hear a lot of people around her saying it was what had motivated them to enlist.

Sahna stood impatiently in one of the line long lines in front of one of the CSF recruiting officers. Her hearts beat excitedly in her chest and she kept bouncing on her toes. Her whole life had been leading up to this moment, countless hours on flight simulators, self defence classes, studying flight principles, everything she had done to prepare herself to become a pilot like her mother.

"Next."

The weary voice of the inkyar sitting behind the table cut through Sahna's excitement and she took a big step forward, having to resist the urge to jump like some overexcited child waiting in line to go on a fairground ride.

She pulled her cartridge from her pocket and held it for the petty-officer to see. She saw waves of relief wash through his mantle, fresh greens and mild yellows, and he pushed the cartridge reader towards her.

The cartridge was a record of all the medical examinations she'd gone through a month ago. Although the minimum age for service was 17 years, 16-year-olds could get a full physical test up to three months prior to enlistment and avoid having to go through it after signing up. It also had a record of all her school transcripts, showing that she fit all the requirements for flight training and many more besides. On top of that, she was related to someone who'd been in the same service and branch, which always helped. All of these things would be appearing on his terminal screen right now.

"Rejected."

Sahna blinked, her mantle turning dark yellow in confusion as the petty officer ejected the cartridge and slid it across the table back to her.

"Next."

"Wait!" Shana blurted. "You're rejecting me?"

The petty officer gave her an exasperated look. "Maybe deafness was one of the reasons."

Sahna's green mantle flared with indignation. It wasn't possible. No way she could be rejected. "That can't be right. I made sure I fit all the qualifications, I passed every physical exam I–."

She was cut off as the petty officer turned his mantle red. "I didn't even get to your qualifications. You've been blacklisted, meaning it doesn't matter how fit or smart you are, you're banned from the CSF."

Sahna's mouth fell open and her mantle turned a deathly white. She she'd been dipped in ice-cold water. "Bu-but that can't be right. My social record is spotless and there aren't even any criminals in my family. This has to be a mistake!"

"You're gonna' have to talk to someone else about it. My job is to put people in uniform, not fix they're mistakes. Next!"

The person behind Sahna shoved her aside, nearly casing her to stumble. "Out of the way, reject. Let the real heroes through."

Sahna bit down hard on her lip, nearly enough to draw blood. It was all she could do to keep from turning around and slugging the bastard. Gritting her beak behind her lips she quietly shuffled away, clutching her cartridge to her chest, her mantle the deepest, most sorrowful of blues.

This wasn't right; it just couldn't be. The CSF would only blacklist someone if they were a danger, usually someone with a history of violent or otherwise risky behaviour – criminals and the like. She didn't qualify at all! Her mother had even served – she'd died serving!

"It's not fair," she croaked helplessly, tears streaming down her cheeks. She felt as if all three of her hearts had been torn out of her one at a time, and only gaping holes remained, bleeding her life out into the aether.

"I did everything right, I waited my whole life… I promised her…"

"What's 'a matter, kid?"

Sahna turned her head and saw another inkyar, this one a little older than the first but considerably more personable looking. Had had beady eyes, for an inkling, was broad shouldered and strongly built. He was sitting behind another recruitment table, but this one had nobody waiting in front of it.

Sahna blinked her eyes and rubbed the tears off her face with the back of her arm. She realized the inkyar was wearing a marine uniform. To the right a few of his comrades were handling the trickle of potential recruits coming in, as if the Marine's table had been shoved to the side or the back of the convention hall like some kind of afterthought and had to settle for whatever dregs weren't picked up by the other services.

"One of the recruiters insult your dad or something?"

Sahna sniffled and tried to get her emotions back under control. Maybe there was something she could try. She approached the desk and offered her cartridge.

"Can you see if I'm blacklisted?"

The marine, a master sergeant if she identified the rank correctly, looked at her quizzically but accepted the cartridge and placed it in the reader. He checked his screen and then his mantle pulsed blue.

"Everything looks fine to me. What made you think you were blacklisted? Or is that why you were crying?"

Sahna clenched her jaw and fought the feeling of humiliation creeping up the back of her neck like a bad rash.

"The CSF has me black listed for some reason, even though I have a clean record and my mother served."

The marine's mantle briefly turned a derisive purple and glanced back at his terminal screen. "Pretty stupid when none of us are in a position to be particularly picky. Far as I can see here you're someone the Marines would be happy to have." He gave her a salesman's smile. "So how about it?"

Sahna's mantle darkened. "I wanted to be a fighter pilot, like Mom."

"Marines need fighter pilots as much as the CSF or the Air Force does, and it's a lot less crowded so it'll be even easier for you to get in and it means you'll be better trained. I'm sure your mom would want that."

Sahna brought her hand up to her chin and thought. She couldn't remember her mother saying anything negative about Marine pilots or even marines in general, but every service claimed its training was the superior one.

It wasn't what she wanted, but even if the blacklisting was a mistake, how long would it take to get cleared up and would the training be even more rushed by the time she got in?

"Do I qualify? I don't know what the Marine Corps requirements are."

"They're a little stiffer than the CSF but everything seems to check out. Well… you might be a bit too well behaved for a Marine, I suppose." He flashed her a sly smile and Sahna felt a little better.

"They'll let me fly? Being blacklisted by the CSF won't block it?"

"I can't see why it would. The Marines accept no responsibilities for the CSF's bad paperwork. Besides, the Collie's have been kicking their funnels up through their otoliths lately. Join the Marines and we'll show you how to really fight."

Sahna hid a grimace. She had a feeling that the sergeant wasn't blustering about the CSF being beaten up badly. After all, if they hadn't, the attacks wouldn't be so frequent, would they?

"What do the Marines do then? Just so I have it clear."

"It's simple enough. On planet, we're usually responsible for amphibious assaults, seizing islands, shore raids, providing security and landing parties for the navy, defending underwater cities, and giving the army a hand whenever they get in a bind, which is a lot. In space we usually assault or defend space installations. You know, asteroid facilities, space colonies, things like that. It's a dangerous job but that's why they get us to do it. As a fighter pilot, you'd be providing air and space cover for these operations, or even doing combat air support if the situation requires it. Sound like the sort of stuff your mom did?"

"She talked a lot about fighting pirates and stuff, but that was before the war."

"Yeah, we got bigger things to worry about than a bunch of swashbuckling misfits right now, and most of them were probably Collies anyway. So, how about it, kid? You wanna' be a marine?"

Sahna turned her head and looked back at the long line of CSF tables, the sparkling displays showing powerful warships, agile fighters, and officers in resplendent red and white uniforms identical to her mother's, the uniform she always imagined herself wearing. Would she be just as willing to wear the navy blue and red of the marines?

She reached into her pocket and felt the metal wings between her finger, wondering, what would Mom do?

She'd probably be furious if she knew about her own daughter being blacklisted and would certainly have done something about it were she there, but she wasn't. If her mother were in her position though, what would she do?

One common theme of many of the stories she'd regaled Sahna with as a child was that you always had to try and find a way to accomplish your goal because otherwise you'd never get over all the obstacles life threw at you, and life had certainly done that today.

Sahna faced the recruiter again. "Yes, I do."

No I don't!

Sahna found herself regretting many of her life decisions as she crawled on her belly under razor wire, through thick mud, sprinkled with the guts of a menagerie of dead animals like some kind of sadistic recipe. All the while, live bullets streaked over her head and Gunnery Sergeant Stifle screamed at anyone not maintaining a sufficient pace through this section of the obstacle course. Anyone unfortunate enough to end up at the back was yelled at and kicked. The person in front wasn't exempt either, as they would be yelled at as the pace setter for the rest of them and berated if the platoon as a whole wasn't moving fast enough. There was no safe place.

And later we'll have to do this with full kit, and pack. This is impossible! What's 'basic' about this training?

Still, she had to persevere. She could only get into pilot training if she was accepted into officer training first, and to do that she had to excel here.

Sahna was fifth through the obstacle course, and as she collected her breath she waited with the rest of her platoon as the others trickled in. Once everyone arrived and had a chance to hydrate, they were ordered into formation, after which Stifle berated them for going through the course too slowly so they were going to have to do it again, which meant that if they didn't want to miss their lunch they'd better get a move on.

Nobody dared to groan lest they invoke the sergeant's wrath, but not everyone was able to hide their displeasure from appearing in their mantles, so Stifle ordered that they had to do two laps of the obstacle course before they could go to lunch instead of one. Before anyone could make the situation any worse, Sahna and a few other just started running. The rest soon followed.

Sahna all but collapsed into her chair when she reached her table in the mess hall. She barely had the strength left to carry her well laden tray. She only took enough time to catch her breath before digging in.

Shortly after everyone was seated, the music coming through the radio speakers ceased, and the stoic tones of the Armed Forces radio announcer echoed in the now silent hall.

"Attention, citizens of the Calachoran Federation, a historic agreement has just been signed between the Federation and the Octarian Collective."

Anticipation pulled on Sahna's insides and the mantles of many of the other recruits displayed worry and anxiousness.

"At 10:00 hours today, the Calachoran Federation and Octarian Collective, under the moderation of the Jellyfish Consensus, signed the South Pole Treaty today. Under its terms, the Collective has agreed to no longer fire their disruption torpedoes over major populated areas or drop asteroids from orbit. In return, the Federation has agreed to the prohibition of energy weapons within the outer security area of a space colony and that colonies were not to be fired upon directly or directly attacked in any way by the warships of either fleet, so that no calamity like what happened to the Alexandria Colony will ever happen again."

"We'll see how long that lasts," someone muttered. "They didn't say it applied to the lunar colonies."

The music resumed and conversation did likewise, but focused on the news.

"If energy weapons like what ships carry are against the rules then that means any colony's going to have to be invaded."

"That means we're going to be sent in to take it."

"Colonies are too huge! You'd never be able to clear out a whole colony when enemy soldiers could be hiding in every building, storage warehouse or air duct."

Sahna didn't relish the idea of seizing a colony either. Flying a fighter in the tight confines of a colony's atmosphere was not a pleasant prospect. Whatever, she didn't have time to think about it. She needed to finish eating before the training sergeants made her eat out of the toilets or something.

"Sit down and don't talk. You all better take this seriously because cause I'm not gonna' tolerate any squit from anybody, and I mean you, Chaser."

Sahna half expected a quip from the platoon's equivalent of a class clown as they all took their seats in the auditorium.

Most of her platoon mates, she didn't have many issues with, and what issues she did have were slowly being ironed out over the course of their training, but Chaser was a stubborn wrinkle and someone she didn't like in the least. she couldn't bring herself to really trust him.

When they'd first arrived at Camp Triggerfish, he'd brought several clear bags of white powder he'd tried to sneak in. They turned out to be nothing more than coarse flower, his idea of a joke. The sergeants had grilled him like a hamburger, and he'd smiled impishly most of the way through it. She'd caught him with pornography a few times – another contraband item, but he'd always somehow managed to get rid of it or hide it before he could get caught, and he'd always be so damn smug about it telling her to 'quit hoisting the flag and learn to live a little.' Even now, as they prepared to receive a critically important lecture, he was showing pictures of scantily-clad girls to the guy sitting next to him, but Sahna wasn't about to speak up and draw the wrath of the sergeant, so all she could do was bit her lip in vexation.

A lieutenant in battle dress walked onto the stage and placed a few items on the lectern off to the side before walking into the middle of the stage.

"Recruits, in this class you will learn about your enemy and some facts about the state of battlefields in this war, facts that might turn some of what you've learned on its head. You will learn the reason we've been having such a hard time in this war so far and about some of the weapons our enemy has been using against us."

Sahna swallowed hard. Ever since basic training had started, the whale in the room had always been there. The Collective's giant, walking weapons; the interference the Goblin torpedoes caused, and why the CSF and the Calachoran Federation Army had struggled so much.

"New information is always coming in, but right now, what I'm about to show you is the most current we have but it can change at any time. You'll learn more specifics when you're assigned to your operational units but this will teach you some fundamentals that you'll need to think about from this point onward as you apply what you learn to it."

The officer walked back to the lectern and the lights dimmed. A screen descended from the ceiling and a projector hummed to life.

The first slide of the presentation looked like something from a high-school science class, showing diagrams of atoms and various equations.

"This is the Minovsky Particle, named after it's discoverer, To Minovsky, who just so happens to be one of the Octarian Collective's top scientists."

A portrait of a male vampire squid with large, round glasses appeared. It was hard to tell his height but his eyes seemed to shine with intelligence, and his round ears made him look more octoling than inkling.

Despite their name, vampire squids were somewhere between inklings and octolings, so they had often been discriminated against by both species. Oddly enough though, one of the reasons for the last great war between the Federation and the Octarians was over which side Neuva Tenta, a small island nation almost totally populated by vampire squids, would join. Although Nueva Tenta eventually did join the Federation it was effectively forced to and many doubted the loyalty of the Federation's vampire squid population. It sounded like the Octarians had treated him better.

The portrait went away and the officer continued.

"The minovsky particle, or M-particle, was originally used to create clean nuclear fusion reactors, meaning they generate power without creating deadly neutron radiation. Instead, due to how the process reacts with the aether, they emit M-particles. These particles spew out in all directions and create all kinds of havoc with anything electromagnetic, from radar to electronics. When scattered in open air or in space, they can create something called an I-field, which is where they create a lattice structure among themselves that amplifies their effects."

As if sensing his audience's eyes glazing over, he paused. "What this means in a nutshell, boys and girls, is that these things mess up any unprotected or sensitive electronics, block radio waves, infra-red, hell, it can even refract light. As a result, all the fancy guidance and fire control systems we developed are now worse than useless."

He switched to the next slide which depicted a field of stars, with one spot in the image that appeared smudged, not lighter or darker than the space around it, but more grainy, somehow.

"This image depicts an enemy squadron of ships, not that you'd know it from looking at it. This is what everyone's calling the 'Minovsky Effect' in plain view, it's something you can actually see. Even if you know an enemy is in there, you can't actually pick them out, so you don't know how many of them there are, what their composition or formation is.

"This visual 'light fog', as some call it, technically happens here on Terra too, but it happens at such a distance that it really only affects the Air Force and the Navy.

"It's important to note that while M-particles will kill sensitive electronics it's not directly lethal to people, at least as far as anyone's been able to work out, which is good because combat has gotten a lot more close and personal this time around, which is probably why the Collies built these bastards."

The slide switched again, showing a humanoid machine resembling an armoured soldier with a gas mask and a single glowing eye, and Sahna felt her throat tighten.

"This is the mobile suit. It's the primary weapon of war of the Collective. They use it in space, on the ground, on the moons, in colonies, and they're probably making ones for amphibious assaults too. This particular model of mean and ugly is called the Zaku, and the one shown here is the second mark version of it. It's slowly phasing out the older models so these are the ones you'll be fighting most for the foreseeable future."

The next slide showed a technical drawing of the Zaku II, with various photos scattered elsewhere on the screen showing pieces of them next to soldiers for scale, helping to drive home the sheer size of them.

"Yup, these things stand more seventeen metres tall, weigh over eighty tons and can outrun any tank in the Federation's arsenal."

A video began to play on the screen, showing the point of view from an armoured truck as a pair of Zakus marched on their position, crossing the field in front of a platoon of tanks dug in among a group of trees. The subwoofers in the lecture hall thumped Sahna's chest with the distant footfalls of the rapidly approaching mobile suits.

The tanks opened fire at long range, scoring a few hits on the rapidly advancing titans but failing to bring them down. The first Zaku stopped and returned fire while the other continued forward. Huge plumes of earth erupted around the Federation position, even as the tanks resumed firing, until one of them exploded in a bright fireball that rained flaming chunks of metal on nearby infantry.

The view was obscured by smoke and dust but they could just barely see the second Zaku reeling from the hits of the tanks. It looked like the shots were finally having an effect. Suddenly there was a bright blue flash and the first Zaku landed right inside the Federation position, standing between the tanks and the truck. It's glowing, pink, cyclopean eye swivelled menacingly towards one of the tanks and let out an odd "veen" sound before it brought an axe the size of a bus down on the tank just as it started to swivel its turret, slicing the vehicle in half.

A few soft gasps were heard among the recruits and Sahna wet her lips. How could anything that big move so swiftly?

Things got worse when the second Zaku jumped in and began firing its large, handheld gun into the other tanks. The tanks tried to move out of their dugout positions and swivel their turrets to meet them but the two mobile suits kept moving, making it difficult for them to track. Before the video reached the end, she heard the sound of the truck revving its lift fans and starting to move.

"This was a full armoured company, wiped out in the span of minutes. They did manage to disable one of the Zakus in the end but it was up and walking again within the week and the pilot most likely survived. It's important you realize how dangerous these things are. They don't just carry oversized machine guns either. We've seen them wielding bazookas, rocket launchers, grenades, just about any weapon an infantrymen can use, they've probably made super-sized for these things – or will if they haven't already. Of course, even if you take away its weapons, this thing is still dangerous."

The presentation showed another video, this one showing a tank and a Zaku squaring off, the Zaku wielding its massive axe, blade aglow with heat. Remarkably the tank managed to juke at just the right time, the axe burying itself in the dirt in front of it, and the tank fired both barrels into the Zaku's torso. In an instant, both machines evaporated as a powerful blast ripped out from the Zaku and tore up trees in a radius that had to be at least one-hundred metres. They could actually see the shock wave rip across the landscape until it passed the camera's point of view.

"This is what happens when a nuclear fusion reactor goes off. It usually doesn't happen since it'll have safeties in place to prevent this kind of explosion and sufficient damage elsewhere will usually bring it down. What you want to aim for is the cockpit."

The slide switched back to the technical drawing but with the cockpit area of the Zaku highlighted.

"A direct hit there by a tank or heavy anti-armour missile will usually kill the pilot, and without the pilot these walking death machines are nothing more than lifeless puppets, just make sure you're out of the way when they fall. You're best advantage against these things is to be close and ambush them, aim for their weak spots. Infantry, if they can get underneath 'em, can shoot the leg joints with anti-armour rockets. That'll usually bring 'em down, or at least disable them.

"Anyway, that's enough about these things, let's move on."

As the officer moved the topic on to other vehicles and technologies the Octarian Collective was massing against them, Sahna was struck with the question she never thought she'd ask herself before today: how the hell were they supposed to win this war against all that?

Author's Notes:

A little story I started to practice a new story writing method, this is a blend of both Splatoon and Universal Century Gundam. I don't know what drove me to create this particular story, but it popped into my head one day, and I just had to put it down.

I can tell you what the inspirations after I started writing it were though. Obviously, one of the biggest was 08th MS team, my favourite Gundam series, and Gundam Thunderbolt, which is the closest thing I've gotten to 08th MS team since then. I would also say that series like Generation Kill and my own history as a cadet were also inspirations behind this story and some of the characters. Sahna is, in a lot of ways, like I was back when I was a teenager.

Since this is the first time I'm posting this story, I'm also posting the second chapter immediately, which will be from Hachiko's perspective. I hope you enjoy that too.