SECTION 02

SHIFTING MOODS

DATE: NOVEMBER 15, 250 A.D.E.

TIME: 1034 HOURS

LOCATION: THE DOME, CENTRAL TOWER, DOME COUNCIL CHAMBER

In the five years that she had sat at the head of the Dome Council, Mayor Miranda Gothi had never partially liked the Council Chamber.

A grand room to be sure; a cavernous room of grand pillars and massive arches of finest (yet recycled) marble housed within the massive reinforced dome embedded into the bottom of Central Tower. It was here that representatives of The Dome's various areas and organisations would congregate to discuss matters that involved them at the home they served. Tier upon tier of balconies rose upward and outward from the centre like the rings of a tree cut in half. Each was segmented off to give each representative his or her own private space as they brought their objectives forward. This was the reason Miranda disliked the place. Most council sessions would dissolve into shouting contests between the various parties. All wanted to have their voices heard and all wanted their own way over their neighbours and allies. The Mayor and the eleven other members of her administration seated at a grand half-moon table of oak before the Representatives were there to try and ensure each of the parties had their say, hear arguments for and against their policies and eventually make the ruling decision on whether to approve or deny their requests. Their word was law, their decisions final.

At least…that was what usually happened. For today was one of those not so rare days when a single topic was on everyone's lips. A day when shouts of anger were united as one and echoed up into the Council Chamber's vaulted ceiling.

It was always the same for every session held after a Dragonoid attack.

"That the Military Police allowed the mass drivers and attack ring to be destroyed is intolerable!"

"We won't be able to conduct repairs until the new year. Can we rely on the Vikings to defend us from any major attacks?"

"What about the food supplies? How big an impact will the loss of the agriculture and livestock plants be to The Dome with winter just around the corner?"

Miranda closed her eyes, blotting out the sounds of voices over voices as she steeped her long fingers on the table before her. She was used to this sort of thing of course. She had spent most of her life surrounded by politicians along with their agendas and accusations. Her father had been a man of predominance within Dome society, just as his father had before him. To rub shoulders with Representatives of the Dome Council had almost been an everyday affair for her during her childhood, and even more so when she joined their ranks as a junior official not twenty years before.

Now she as she entered her mid-forties, she was the one everyone wanted to talk too, the centre of attention.

The stress of the job was taking its toll, however; her black hair was streaked with steel grey, the first few wrinkles starting to show on her dark caramel skin. That wasn't to say she was getting weak, by any means. When she stood from her chair, the entire Assembly went quiet as she adjusted the jacket of her pale grey suit and smoothed the wrinkles from her matching dress. Miranda Gothi after was someone all respected, and when she spoke, all would listen.

"The raid on the farmlands surrounding The Dome is indeed troublesome, but while we have lost several agriculture and livestock plants, I may remind the Council that the loss of such handfuls of facilities will not force us to scavenge from the nearby forests or promote the need for rationing. The loss of the mass drivers is also regrettable, but The Dome has stood on this ground for over a hundred and thirty years, and even I remember a time when the attack ring did not encircle us. We will survive, as we always do."

"But is survival really all we can do Your Ladyship?"

Miranda felt her icy blue eyes narrow slightly as she watched a large familiar form stride down the main aisle towards the Council table. To say she rarely saw eye to eye with General Gregorio McKrillen would be putting it far too nicely. He was too aggressive in her opinion, constantly determined to find a way to get through the defences of Washington Crater and wipe out however many Dragonoids it took to get there. Miranda, on the other hand, wanted to focus on rebuilding humanity. The war had been going on for too long, and she knew the citizens of The Dome were as tired of the constant Dragonoid attacks as she was. Her goals were to find a peaceful end to the conflict, someway to end the violence and focus on returning humankind to its former glory. It seemed sad to her that most of those tired citizens would prefer Stoic's way to hers.

"It has been two hundred and fifty years since this war began General McKrillen," she spoke coldly as the bear of a man stopped before the table. "The fact we've survived this long proves we're at least fairly good at it."

"But only because we are forced to survive Your Ladyship, as I have told you many times," the General smiled tightly behind his beard, before turning to face the Council. "For two hundred and fifty years ago, humanity numbered in billions. Two hundred and fifty years ago, we thrived across the globe, all kinds of nations, people and traditions. Now we may be all that's left of that history. Now our citizens scurry into bunkers while my men and women defend our small borders from those vermin's attacks. Our days go by in fear, wondering when alarm bells might sound and the sound of alien engines fills the skies. This war has been going on for too long now, we all know that. But it can only end one of two ways. Either we finish them, or they finish us!"

A rumble of approval echoed across the Chamber, Miranda's heart sinking slightly with it.

"What do you propose we do General?" she asked softly.

"In Washington Crater lies the warship, the Dragonoid's base of operations and the place where this wretched conflict began," Stoic turned back to the Mayor, though his voice still boomed across the vast Council Chamber. "If we destroy their home, the Dragonoids will become disorganised and the monsters will easier to take down. Our only problem is getting there. Kingston?"

Gothi glanced to the balconies as a single amber light lit up in the darkness. With a weary sigh, she indicated to it as she slowly sat down.

"The Dome Council recognises Colonel Ernest Kingston, Representative of the Military Engineering Bureau."

The light turned green as several spotlights lit up youthful officer approaching his mid-thirties, his dark blond hair pushed back in a single wave that contrasted slightly with his tanned skin.

"Representatives of The Dome," he spoke aloud, his light Afrikaans accent carrying across the Chamber, "as you are no doubt aware, this is not the first time General McKrillen has brought this proposal before The Dome Council, neither is he the first to propose it at all. The Military Police has tried on numerous occasions since The Dome was first completed to try and reach Washington Crater and end this war once and for all. Our past attempts have failed before they have even begun, however, due to the interception of our fleets before they can even see America on the horizon," he touched a console before him, a small emitter rising from the Council Table to project a three dimensional map of England, North America and the Atlantic Ocean. "Recent reports from our colleagues in the Department of Intelligence, however, may have shed some light on the problem. We believe that the Dragonoids have set a network of surveillance devices under the Atlantic and across North America. They detect our fleets before they've even reached halfway across the sea and deploy Dragonoid squads to decimate our forces. Taking into account trajectories we've gathered from past expeditions, we believe the Dragonoids have a base of operations to deal with such excursions here, on the southernmost tip of Greenland," the map zoomed into the snow-covered landmass. "Both the Bureau and Intelligence believe that a base here may be directly connected to the surveillance network. The Bureau also believes if access can be gained this outpost, we can alter the network and secure safe passage for any future fleets to Washington Crater."

"Therefore, my operation plan is this," Stoic continued as Kingston returned to his seat, "I will take one Cerberus class mobile fortress and two Assault Frame transporters to Greenland to take this outpost out before the Winter sets in. The Military Engineering Bureau believe it may have a way to get a small enough force through the network without setting anything off. Before the year is out, we will destroy any Dragonoid presence there and make the Network safe for a larger fleet to invade the Crater once the thaws come. If all goes well," he turned back to Miranda, "this time next year we could be celebrating the events that led to this war's end and tasting a life of freedom for the first time in two and a half centuries."

As the rumble of approval turned into shouts of agreement, The Dome's Mayor could only smile thinly.

"If everything goes well General. If."

"Well, tha' seemed ta go well."

Stoic glanced at Gobber as he trudged out of the Council Chamber, the cyborg smiling pleasantly as he watched the other Representatives go by. The General was too tired to deal with his friend's humour. Miranda Gothi had something of a…draining effect on him.

"The Council approved the operation," he grunted as he strode across the entrance lobby, the major quickly on his tail. "We leave first thing tomorrow."

"Great, I'll pack me undies…"

"No," the General shook his head, turning to his surprised friend. "When we go on the offensive, we're going to need every experienced pilot we have. I need you to stay here and train up some of the squads on the Vikings…in case we fail."

"Oh. Tha's wonderful, tha' is," Gobber's form slumped slightly as Stoic approached one of the benches that lined the elegant foyer. "Shall I give Alex command of 83RK while ye gone too? Just think of all the wonderful things 'e could do with a few blocks o' C4, a couple o' Stinger missiles and the four AA guns! What could possibly go wrong?"

Stoic sighed, the bench creaking under his weight as he slumped down and held his head in a hand. His mind was still on the argument he'd had with his son barely a few hours before. Military protocol told him the measures that needed to be taken. If it had been any other soldier under his command, he would know exactly what needed to be done.

But because it was Alex…

He sighed bitterly, "What am I going to do with him, Gus?"

The answer came after only a moment's pause.

"We need Viking pilots don' we?"

The General slowly raised his eyes to his friend's, Gobber not even flinching under the hardened gaze.

"I really hope that was a joke major. I'm not laughing either way."

"I'm not laughin' either," Craigson folded his arms stubbornly across his chest. "I don' see what the problem is. He wants to pilot, an' we need the pilots. Everybody wins!"

"Accept he'll be dead before you let him near the training arena!" the General stood up angrily. "That boy…he's just like his mother. Always dreaming, always wanting to explore, always so…different," he felt a lump develop in his throat, memories of his wife floating to the surface of his mind. He blocked them out. "And he never listens to a word I say. Half the time I feel like I'm just banging my head against the side of The Dome when I talk to him!"

"Ooh, shouldn' do that. Ye'll get a mighty headache."

"I already have a mighty headache," Stoic scowled as Gobber chuckled, "It has two legs and a troublesome personality. Gus, Alex is trying to be something he isn't. He's not like you and me. He's not even like…that Ingerman kid! At least that lad will follow orders, Alex just does what he thinks will help, and ends up destroying something!"

"Which is why we need ta train him," Gobber set his good hand on his friend's shoulder, "Gregorio, I know ya tryin' to protect him, but e's not a little kid anymore. An' for the next three years, e's gonna be one of ye men as well as ye boy. If we're lucky, maybe ye right. Maybe the war 'll be over by next Spring. But if ye not right, e's gonna need some preparation. Ye not gonna be around forever, and ye cannae keep him locked up forever either. Chances are good e's gonna get out again," he smiled wryly. "Chances are good e's out there now."

TIME: 1107 HOURS

LOCATION: ENGLAND, FIVE KLICKS SOUTHEAST OF DOME TERRITORY

In 89 A.D.E., When the construction of The Dome first got underway, a call went out across the British Isles for the remaining settlements to come together. The message was clear; unite what was left of humanity under a single banner, rebuild our civilisation and drive away the Dragonoid menace. Response was slow in the first few years. Memories of the major cities like London being blown away in a matter of hours were still fresh in many peoples' minds, held there by the elderly who had lived to see it happen. Most of the settlements that remained were small villages and towns largely ignored by the major attacks, most likely due to their small populations presenting insignificant threats to the Dragonoids themselves. But as the years went by, and those that protected the construction site proved they could hold the aliens at bay, more and more people joined the project. As The Dome neared completion in 119 A.D.E., most of the Isles' citizens had congregated under our single metal roof. The villages and towns that had once held so many people now lay deserted, slowly crumbling into ruins as nature slowly reclaimed the land.

One of these villages lay not too far from The Dome's security parameter, its name forgotten by time. Being so close to the construction site, it was no surprise to anyone that its citizens were the some of the first to leave their homes behind for the safety of greater numbers. Located in a shallow valley on top of a fairly steep hill, it had managed to escape the war by simply being out of the way and generally unnoticeable. It seemed sad that it had just been left to rot after keep its people safe for so long. Both the forest that had covered the rise above the village and the clusters of trees that sat along roads and between fields had long since expanded themselves out between the houses. The concrete roads had become split and fractured as two and a half centuries of weathering and decay allowed tufts of grass to poke through. The homes that had once housed families now played host to local wildlife, their innards stripped of everything useful, leaving empty carcasses to be swallowed up by mother nature. Exactly how long it had been since humans had lived here became even more apparent when you looked at the remains of the local church near the northern entrance.

It might have been a nice building once upon a time. It was a simple structure, a flat-topped tower at one end with small nave big enough for the village's congregation, narrowing into the choir area before sloping up towards where the High Altar might have once stood. The forest had long since reclaimed the land surrounding the building, tall trees poking their branches through stained glass windows of saints whose names many people had forgotten. Its innards had been stripped of anything worth salvaging when the village's citizens had moved on. From the Altar to the pews to the front door, all that was left was the barren stone hall, a few young saplings beginning to poke their way through the open floor towards the sunlight that shone through the collapsed roof above.

I sighed as I surveyed the decaying building, before turning to the small map in my hand and crossing off another potential landing site. I'd spent the last few hours doing much of the same; travelling around the area I believed the Night Fury might have landed in on a 'borrowed' motorcycle, searching potential sites and crossing each one off with greater and greater disappointment.

"God must really hate me," I muttered aloud as I left the ruin, returning the map to the inner pocket of my tunic. "Some people lose their car keys or reading glasses. Not me though, I only go and lose an entire Dragonoid!" I paused for a moment, "And now I'm talking to myself. Great. Like my Dad doesn't think I'm crazy…enough…"

I trailed off as I rounded the edge of the church. There was something…off about the trees on this side, away from the road. Something had…splintered them. Almost all of them had had what little leaves they had left stripped from their branches. Most, however, had had their tops taken clean off, the smell of damp smouldering wood hanging in the air. It was almost as though something had…crashed through here recently.

My heart thumping loudly in my chest, I followed the carnage down with my eyes, a nervous hand going for the pistol at my side as I took in the vicarage at the eastern end of the graveyard…or rather what was left of it.

Something…big had smashed into it. The house itself was barely standing. Half of it was actually missing, completely blown away by whatever had flown through it, giving me an interesting cross-section of old bathroom plumbing and the last owner's bad taste in living room wallpaper. I gingerly stepped into the ruin, taking care to watch out for any sign that what remained of the vicarage might come crashing down around me. Beyond the wrecked walls, a large overgrown garden sloped gently down the hill towards a river that wriggled its way through the village and out into the valley. Younger trees had planted their roots here, the forest beginning to merge with a cluster of evergreens that had once separated the vicarage from next door's fields across the river. Some would never have the chance to given fully grow though, thanks to having been burnt to a crisp or simply squashed back into the dirt by the machine that lay halfway on its side at the bottom of the garden at the end of a long deep trench of its own making.

"I…I don't believe it."

It had to be it. I knew it had to be it. My modified stinger missile was still firmly clamped against the onyx armour, long spindly claws holding the device in place, a small blue light above the nose telling me the EMP was still active, sapping the energy from the machine it clung to.

Not just a machine. A Dragonoid. A Dragonoid no human eye had ever seen before.

Ca'furor. Night Fury.

My pistol still raised (for all the good it would do me), I hesitantly approached the fallen mech. It was definitely the same Dragonoid I saw last night. I recognised the stocky body, the long segmented wings and the lethal cannons mounted to the top of the mech and extending out like a long neck. The design was…different compared to other Dragonoids in the database though. A lot of aesthetics seemed to be missing or reduced compared to other models. There were no limbs, for example, just a long aerodynamic, elongated plate with three landing plates extending from the metal (two sweeping back and a third sweeping forward) that came to a point far out in front of the mech, the eight metre long cannons above a few metres longer. The tails of other Dragonoids was replaced with a simple fin, upright like a plane's, the rear filled up with two large powerful engines, no doubt the reason why the Fury was the most elusive and unknown of our enemy's machines. The head had also been greatly simplified; just a long flat extension mounted under cannons, a pair of machine guns and a single forward facing camera mounted into a point at the front. The cannons themselves were impressive of course; thin yet powerful eight-metre long energy weapons that had given the Fury such an infamous record. A closer look revealed some unusual additions, however; a pair cruciform swords had apparently been attached to the outside of each cannon, their hilts and sheaths as black as the armour they were attached to. The only reason I could see for them was decoration, perhaps a threat to anyone who actually managed to see the Dragonoid. The only other weapon was what appeared to be a long-range cannon mounted to the left-hand side under the wing, complete with an auxiliary sight that I presumed allowed for greater accuracy. I found it odd there wasn't one on the other side, but could only assume it had been broken off during the landing.

But I didn't care how strange or unusual the Dragonoid was. I couldn't have cared less if it had eight legs and could sing opera as long it was of Dragonoid creation. What mattered was the Dragonoid before me was downed by me. This Dragonoid, considered the most advanced humanity had ever encountered, had been shot down by the soldier no one thought I could be. I couldn't help but grin as I let a hand run across the rough plates of the Fury's armour.

"I knew it," I murmured quietly. "I just…I knew I'd hit it! This fixes everything!" I peered between the landing plate and the main body. "Dad's never going to believe this, but I did it. Now, how do I get in…ah! Here we go."

Holstering my weapon, I couldn't wipe the grin off my face as my free hand found the emergency release; a small lever hidden beside what appeared to be the entry hatch. It took only three pumps before the hatch reluctantly gave way, opening up to the darkness beyond with an angry hiss.

Apprehension slowly took over me as I peered into the gloom, one hand resting on my pistol while the other fished a small torch from my belt. It suddenly dawned on me that I had no idea what I would find inside. There was no sign that the pilot had ejected. Was it alive? Dead? Maybe it was unconscious. Maybe it was waiting for some gullible idiot to pull the emergency release, giving it a chance to escape.

I suddenly felt incredibly stupid as I ducked inside and flashed the narrow beam of light into the darkness.

The first thing I noticed was the cramped cockpit was of a duel-seated design; one chair slightly raised above the other, and both facing towards the front of the machine with the entry hatch opening just before the first seat. A trio of screens surrounded each chair, giving each pilot a one-eighty degrees view of the world outside. All the controls looked identical for both chairs too. The same two control sticks, the same number of switches and consoles, the same number of screens and so on. Everything was dark now though, the power lost thanks to the EMP generator attached to its side. I shone the light up the rear wall, surprise flitting through my mind as I noticed the orb embedded at the top of the cockpit was also dark. It was well documented that all Dragonoids were equipped with an Artificial Intelligence to assist in the mech's operations. Also, when a pilot ejected, the A.I. would wipe the memory core of anything that might help the enemy in the war (Dragonoid schematics, troop movements, ways of reaching Washington Crater without being atomised, etc), before taking over basic functions and turning the mech it operated into a mindless yet aggressive beast that usually served to distract us while the pilot escaped with its fellows.

I'd never considered that the EMP might have been powerful enough to reach the A.I.'s personal power core, but the fact the orb was as dark as the rest of the cockpit concerned me for a moment.

But I quickly put it out my mind. I had other things to worry about.

Slowly, I turned my attention to the pilots themselves. The name Dragonoid was something that came about from the silhouette of the mechs they piloted rather than from the biology of the species itself. Very few had actually seen a Dragonoid pilot up close and personal. We never found out if they made direct contact with the American government, and what glimpses anyone from The Dome saw were usually of them fleeing as they ejected from their machines.

I had a feeling some people from The Dome Science Academy might be interested in what I'd brought down.

Both pilots were humanoid, both possibly taller than even my father as best I could judge, their long thin bodies encased in loose black jumpsuits, held to their frames by smooth armoured plate around the torso and neck, wrists and knee length boots. No skin was left uncovered, even their heads were encased in large helmets with tinted visors connected to a life support system mounted on their backs via a pair of small pipes that wound their way from the front along the bottom of the headpiece.

The pilot in the front seat was clearly dead, its' head snapped at a grotesque angle, a light red substance oozing from where the seal between helmet and armour had been broken. Even though it was my enemy, I felt decidedly sick the longer I looked at the body. When humans think of the Dragonoids, we think of the monstrous mechs that attack our homes and make our lives miserable. It was quite easy to forget that just like the Vikings, there was something alive inside the armour.

I shook my head bitterly. It didn't matter though. Alive or not, this alien had played a part in the war. It was a part of a species that had killed billions of humans during this conflict. That this alien was dead only meant there was one less Dragonoid pilot out there to worry about. Even though I thought this, however, seeing the corpse didn't make me feel any better.

I turned the light on the co-pilot, propping myself against the top of the pilot's chair. The body lay slumped in its chair, hands lying limply over the armrests, its head resting against a nearby bulkhead with a spider web of cracks along its visor. The same light red substance was dribbled slowly from a gash in the alien's left arm, blood I realised now. Aside from this, I couldn't tell if the body was alive or dead. Armoured plate covered the normal places I'd look for a pulse, and the chest piece combined with the darkness made it hard to see if the co-pilot was breathing or not.

If I could just get the helmet off…

Setting the torch on top of the co-pilot's main screen, I slowly reached for the bottom of the helmet, my pistol ready in my free hand.

"Let's see if you're just playing…"

"Demagolka!"

I cried out in alarm as long gloved fingers wrapped themselves around my lower arm, the co-pilot's high voice shrieking in my ears as the body seemed to come alive, fighting against the safety harness I was so glad it was wearing.

"Let go of me!"

"Demagolka! Demagolka!"

"LET GO!"

I smashed the butt of the pistol into the pilot's visor, the creature giving a surprised cry as the glass smashed inward, releasing its grasp and sending me staggering back into a bulkhead. Even though I was seeing stars, I held the pistol firm, bracing myself against the cockpit's side and aiming through the fractured visor.

"Enough!"

The co-pilot froze, acutely aware of the weapon in front of it. In the dim light of the torch, I could see my attack had punched a decent sized hole in the visor, just enough to make out bone-white skin and an eye set just deep enough into the skull to be noticeable. The eye itself was an iris of emerald green surrounded by white, split from top to bottom by a narrow black slit of a pupil. At least I knew it wasn't of this world…unless it was a highly evolved cat. The co-pilot stared at me for a moment more, its breathing coming out in heavy pants as its free hand clung to its wounded arm. Suddenly the single eye I could see noticed the corpse of its comrade behind me.

"Alor…" it moaned quietly, "Gar…gar kyrayc te Alor…"

I frowned agitatedly. The Dragonoid's language wasn't exactly something we were taught as in school. We didn't have portable translators or even a Dragonoid to English dictionary. The thought that a human being and a Dragonoid alien would ever speak face to face was unfathomable to most of us. It was clear who it was talking about though.

"I think you should worry more about yourself than your friend," the co-pilot snapped back to me as I spoke coldly. "At least it's dead, but don't worry, you're not going to be around much longer either."

The eye watched me carefully, a studying gaze I didn't like.

"Copaani gar…chaab?"

"Don't try and talk your way out of it!" I bared my teeth angrily. "This is for every failure I've had to endure, every death you've caused in battle, I…I'm going to kill you,"

The co-pilot's unblinking stare was stirring something inside me. The more we held each other's gaze, the more hollow this victory felt. I tried to shake the feeling off.

"I'm going to kill you. Do you understand?" my gun-wielding hand was shaking, to the point I had to reinforce it. "I'm going to kill you, and take your corpse back to The Dome. Then everyone will see I am a soldier. I AM A SOLDIER GOD DAMMIT!"

The co-pilot continued to watch me, standing before it with both hands shaking, trying to keep my gun shooting straight.

"Ni vaabir'naas…copaanir ramaanar."

"SHUT UP! JUST SHUT UP!" I couldn't help but scream, "STOP STARING AT ME!" I tried to will my finger to pull the trigger. It felt like I was throwing all my strength into one simple movement, but no matter how hard I tried, my hand refused to obey. That eye…what was this beast doing to me? This should be so easy! After everything Dragonoids have done, why had it suddenly become so hard to shoot one pathetic pilot? "WHY DID YOU HAVE TO BE ALIVE!? WHY COULDN'T YOU HAVE JUST DIED ON IMPACT!? WHY WON'T YOU JUST DIE ALREADY?!"

The co-pilot watched me only for a moment more, before turning its head away, its eyes closed.

"Ni…chaab Alor."

I felt my hands go slack. My anger, my fear…every just seemed to go numb. I let my gun-wielding hand fall to my side, the pistol falling to the floor with a clatter as I rubbed a hand over my face.

"Like a mirror," I muttered into my palm. "Just like a damn mirror. That's…that's just not fair."

I felt my knees buckle as the realisation sunk in, my body falling to the metallic deck space beside the chairs as my hands rubbed the cold sweat from my face. I felt the Dragonoid pilot's eyes on me again.

"I…can't do it," I looked up at it miserably. "I did all this. I came so far. And I can't do it. I can't kill you. I don't…want to kill you. I don't want to kill anyone."

I let my head fall forward against the edge of the co-pilot's seat with a heavy thump. I suddenly felt so…drained. Everyone was right about me. My Dad, Gobber, Astrid and my squad. They could all see what I couldn't. I was no soldier. I wasn't like them. I was…
My mind went blank as I felt something push against my head, my hat falling to the floor as I felt long fingers sift through my dark hair.

"Aht ar chaab…la aht kar'taylir gar copaani oyacyir."

I looked up at into the face of my enemy, but to try and understand it was impossible with only one eye to go by. Its words sounded…comforting somehow. Like it was trying to console me somehow.

I sighed again, letting a surprising wave of calmness wash over me. So I wasn't a soldier. Dad was probably going to be ecstatic.

Slowly I got to my feet, my hands groping around in the dark for my hat and pistol as I did so. The co-pilot's hand fell away as I got to my full height, but I could feel it watching me as I holstered the weapon and set my hat back on my head. Now I was at a loss as to what I could do now. I had a downed Dragonoid and a live pilot to deal with. My first thought was to deploy a beacon from the cycle and just wait for someone to find me, but for some reason this idea made me feel hollow inside. Then I considered just leaving and pretending I'd never found the Fury, but the thought of leaving the downed mech and its pilot to the elements, where the chances were good it might die of its injuries made me feel even sicker.

Which left option three.

Picking up the torch, I shook my head as I turned away from the bemused alien.

"I can't believe I'm doing this."

"Oh yeah…I built this thing…way too well."

For the past five minutes, the vicarage garden had been filled with the sounds of rock against metal as I pounded the legs that held the EMP stinger missile in place. Basic training had told me while building the device that Dragonoids had the horrible ability to recharge their power supplies within a short space of time. A constant EM field was, therefore, necessary to keep a mech down. With this in mind, I'd designed the stinger's legs to hold the missile in place until the Night Fury could be properly secured. The last thing I really wanted was the damn thing falling off during transport, potentially letting loose one of the most powerful Dragonoid's ever seen in a bestial A.I. controlled from inside The Dome.

Right now though, I wish I'd been a bit more stupid. The legs themselves weren't even really what I was trying to reach.

With sweat trickling down my face, I let a grin spread as one of the legs finally gave way, the limb spitting sparks angrily as I pulled it away from the main body, giving me access to the thing I actually needed to destroy.

"Six months of planning and building…all put to waste because I'm not the person I want to be," I panted heavily, wiping the sweat from my forehead. "I should have just listened to Dad…It would've…saved me a whole lot of exercise."

Throwing all my weight into one final blow, I smashed the rock down against the main body of my precious device, the blue light winking out with a pathetic whimper as the casing cracked under the assault.

As the EMP died, the Night Fury began to thrum with energy. I gave it about ten seconds before it reached a decent strength, after which I expected the co-pilot to just go back to Washington Crater and do whatever it was supposed to do. My Dad was going to kill me if he ever found out, but as far as I could see, this was the only way for me to clear my conscious. After all, it was my stinger that brought down the Fury and killed its'…Alor (Was that a name or a rank?). I let it live and go home, maybe it would let me do the same.

That was my last thought…before a hand almost squashed me.

My surprised cry was lost in the sound of moving gears as fists extended from what I'd thought to be afterburners, large metal fingers, the biggest easily my father's height crushing dead leaves and soil as it hoisted the Fury's frame upward. From the rear, those large powerful engines extended out and down, rotating a complete one hundred and eighty degrees as the ends flatted into feet the size of Humvees. As the Dragonoid slowly pushed itself up onto those feet, the cannons separated further and arced almost gracefully over the top of the machine to now point towards the ground, the segmented wings folding into one another until they resembled those of angels I'd seen in pictures. Large shoulder blades extended outward and locked into place as the Fury's hands left pulled the plate from its front, holding it on its arm to form an aerodynamic shield, the right hand pulling the long-range cannon from its mount to form something I could only describe as a mecha-sized assault rifle. Finally, as the pointed plate sunk between the shoulder blades, one last transformation rotated into view; a long thin pointed humanoid head, vents on its 'cheeks' melding into the vulcan energy cannons on either side, parallel with its thin dark green visor. The whole transformation had taken less than thirty seconds. If it had been at full power, I had no doubt it would probably have done it in a quarter of that time.

I couldn't speak, I couldn't even move. It had to be at least eighteen metres tall, towering over the trees as its yellow eyes surveyed the countryside around it.

Then the Fury turned its gaze to me…and raised the rifle to aim my way.

"No…no…" I stumbled back, my feet tripping over the discarded rock that had liberated the Dragonoid as I stared down the rifle's barrel. "Y…you can't…I…"

The Night Fury continued to stare down at me as I struggled to form sentences. Had it all just been a trick? A ploy to get me to remove the EMP? A hundred different thoughts and memories flashed through my mind as I tried to press myself into the dirt, the Fury's green visor burning bright.

"Vaabir naas shekemir ni…lenedat."

Something roared, but no light burst forth from the rifle as I'd expected. From the thrusters on its back, I shielded my eyes as the Dragonoid turned Humanoid rose up into the air, trees and bits of building flying everywhere as the mech screamed into the sky.

I…I was alive. I'd just looked down the barrel of an energy rifle and I was alive…

And I suddenly felt faint…

Oh dear…

I collapsed back onto the dirt, the world going black as my eyes rolled up into my head.

DATE: JULY 7th, 239 A.D.E.

TIME: 2308 HOURS

LOCATION: DOME OUTSKIRTS

"Where do you think they're from?"

"Who?"

Astrid didn't look at me. Her dark blue eyes fixed on the stars above the tree line. I still wasn't quite sure how she'd managed to drag me out here in the middle of the night. I remembered a warm hand in mine and a pretty smile…I guess when you're seven that's all it really took. So here we were, the cool metal side of The Dome against our backs with nothing but the moon and the stars above to light our way.

"The Dragonoids," my friend hugged her knees to her chest. "Which star do you think they're from?"

I frowned, turning my gaze to the inky blackness, a trillion points of light shining softly back at me. They…all looked the same to me.

"What does it matter where they came from?" I replied huffily, not wanting to look stupid. "They're here now, aren't they?"

"I just wonder what they were like before they got here," the girl shrugged. "I mean, were they this aggressive at home? Did they just attack each other until there was only one faction left?"

"My Dad says they were always like that."

"Your Dad's a colonel in the Military Police." Astrid gave me a sideways smirk, her pigtails flopping to one side. "He's supposed to say things like that. We don't know though. If they really were like this before, why did they wait fifty years to attack us?"

I frowned quietly. I wanted to tell her my Dad's theory about how the Dragonoids were just letting humanity get used to us, but I thought she'd just remind me he was a Colonel again.

"What can we do though?" I asked instead. "They keep attacking us, and we have to fight back."

"What if we didn't fight back?"

"We'd be dead."

"No, I mean like what Miss Gothi and my Dad says," Astrid sighed impatiently. "What if we just tried to talk to them?"

"It's kinda hard to talk to someone when their shooting at you."

"I guess so," she nodded thoughtfully. "But what if we tried to talk to them before they started shooting though? What if asked them why they were shooting us in the first place?"

I paused, tapping a single finger against my chin.

"We'd have to talk really quickly."

Astrid laughed, and I felt a fluttering in my stomach as she did so, "I guess so. My Dad's really confident though. We have the technology to do basic translations of Dragonoid language. If he gets into office next year, he's going to work on a way to send a message to Washington Crater. He and Miss Gothi say they're going to find out why the Dragonoids attacked us. Maybe this was all just a big mistake or…"

Her thought was lost as the wail of alarm bells sounded from one of the far off outposts. I stood up slowly as the noise grew louder, more and more Outposts joining the noise until 83RK sounded just a mile or two away.

"Dragonoid attack," I stated the obvious as The Dome itself seemed to answer her outlying installations with an equally mournful note. I turned back to Astrid as she cast a wary gaze towards the horizon, offering her a hand. "Come on, we should get back inside before our parents…"

"Wake up!"

Something hard and encased in leather smacked me across the face, my eyes seeing stars as I returned to the world of the living. I was still in the Vicarage garden I realised, my back wet from lying on the damp soil, bits of leaf and twig clinging to my hair.

"…Ow…" I rubbed my jaw sourly as I looked up at my attacker, "I'm pretty sure that constitutes as physical abuse…Ma'am."

Astrid smirked down at me, adjusting her driving gloves with an air of satisfaction.

"No witnesses private, and rank hath its privileges."

I merely scowled as I brushed the foliage from my head and clothes. Just like her call sign, Astrid's rank was proof of how well she had adapted to serving with the Military Police. She had changed so much, and I'd long ago decided it wasn't for the better.

"What are you doing out here?" I asked hotly.

"I could ask you the same thing," the smirk disappeared as I stood up. "You've been off the radar for over two hours. The only reason I found you is because you didn't turn off your bike's IFF…"

"I am allowed to disappear for a few hours when I'm off duty…"

"Not when General McKrillen is looking for you, you don't."

"Oh." I raised my eyebrows in surprise. "I didn't realise I was supposed to be confined to The Dome this time."

"You're not. Your suspension has been lifted." Something tightened in Astrid's jaw as though she disapproved of something. "The general apparently feels that it was the Night Fury's attack that did the most damage to the attack ring, the Nightmare just sent it over the edge…as it were."

"So…he's says it's only partly my fault?"

The sergeant scowled, "Obviously."

I winced slightly under her gaze. Clearly my superior didn't agree, but wasn't going to argue the point if it potentially meant a black mark on her squad's record.

"So what were you doing out here?" I felt my heart quicken in panic as Astrid turned to look at the destruction the Night Fury had brought to the overgrown garden. "Looks like something exploded. I better not find any C-4 missing from 83RK's armoury…"

"No, it wasn't anything like that," I replied hurriedly, trying to act calm. "I…last night I thought I saw a Dragonoid go down near here. I decided to use my free time to see if I could find it. When I got here though…" I smiled sheepishly, "I kind of…fell over a rock."

It was a half-truth really. Everything happened, with just a few missing facts to cover up the fact I'd let one of our most advanced foes fly off over the horizon. Astrid didn't look back at me as she touched the ion blasted ground where the Fury had taken off, her eyes thankfully overlooking the large footprints in the ground, now half covered by dead leaves and twigs blown in from the wind.

"Well, something was here, but its gone now," the sergeant sighed as she stood up, not noticing my shoulders slump in relief behind her. "Shame. If it survived a crash like this, we might have been able to have salvaged something if you'd gotten here sooner," she smirked over her shoulder. "You might have actually done something right for once."

"Thank you…Ma'am."

"Alright, enough dawdling." evidently my sarcasm wasn't helpful as the smirk once again disappeared, my sergeant pushing past me towards the church as she spoke. "Get your ass back to The Dome Hiccup. You know how the General gets if you're late."

I didn't reply, not until she was over the crest of the hill and I heard her motorcycle roar to life and take her away from me.

"By your command…Astrid."

TIME: 1243 HOURS

LOCATION: THE DOME, CENTRAL TOWER, MILITARY POLICE HEADQUARTERS, GENERAL MCKRILLEN'S OFFICE

"You wanted to see me…General?"

"Ah, Alex! Come in, come in."

I couldn't help but feel slightly worried as my Dad waved me in, what appeared to be an attempt at an easy smile plastered on his face. Either it was my birthday and no one told me, or my ever loving father was about to tell me something I wasn't going to like.

"As…Sergeant Hofferson said you wanted to see me."

"Yes. Yes I did," Stoic actually stood up as he indicated to the chair before his desk. Now I was slightly scared. "I erm…I was thinking about what we…discussed this morning."

"Oh…right," I winced slightly as I lowered myself into the small leather chair. "That's…that's good actually. I've been thinking about…what you said and…" I trailed off as Stoic gave me a surprised look, "…but…you're the general, so I guess you should go first."

"Alright," I watched uneasily as my Dad walked around the edge of his desk, an ominous creaking coming from the legs as he lent up against the edge of it. "Recently it has come to my attention that you lack certain…attributes that other soldiers have," he glanced at me, taking in my disbelieving gaze. His shoulders slumped. "Alright, I've always known you lack certain attributes the other soldiers have. However recently, I've come to believe this might be more to do with a lack of training rather than you simply being…you."

"Thanks…I guess."

Stoic ignored me, "So, I've decided to do something about it. You want to be a soldier, fine. You and Nu Squad have been selected for the Assault Frame training program."

My heart stopped. My mouth went dry.

"Oh," was all I could say.

"You're speechless," my father laughed. "First time for everything."

"Yeah, there's a reason for that." I cleared my throat, trying to shake myself out of stupor as I fiddled with the brim of my hat. "Dad…some things…happened while I was out today, and I realised you were right. You were all right. I'm just not cut out for the Military Police. I can't…couldn't kill a Dragonoid even if you knelt one before me and put a pistol in my hand…"

"Damn. I was too hard on you earlier wasn't I?" to watch the muscular mass that was my Dad fret over whether or not he'd been a bad parent this morning might have been amusing had the situation been different. "No son, I was wrong. You've always wanted to kill Dragonoids, and I was wrong to try and stop what was obviously a natural urge" he smiled comfortingly as he set a heavy hand on my shoulder, "and now I'm giving you the best way to do it."

"Dad, I really think putting me in a seventy-ton war machine is a really bad idea…"

"And I disagree." I flinched as my father's voice took a cold tone. "From this point forward, you are going to train to be the best soldier you can. When you wear that uniform, you represent all those that wear it, all those that protect The Dome and her citizens. That means you walk like us, talk like us, think like us. And as a Viking pilot, you will finally be able to lose all of…" he waved a hand in my direction, "this."

"You just gestured to all of me!"

The General ignored my indignant look, "Training begins at 0800 hours on the 22nd. Before then you need to get fitted for a pilot suit and read up on the training manual. Train hard son," his voice grew soft, his hand patting me good-naturedly on the shoulder as he went to grab his coat. "I'm going out on an operation into the Atlantic. I'll be back just after Christmas if all goes well."

"That's…great Dad," I sighed as I slumped down in the chair in resignation. "I might even be here to welcome you back…if all goes well."

DRAGONOID TRANSLATIONS

"Demagolka!"
(Monster!)

"Demagolka! Demagolka!"
(Monster! Monster!)

"Alor…Gar…gar kyrayc te Alor…"
(Superior….you you killed the Superior)

"Copaani gar…chaab?"
(Are you…afraid?)

"Ni vaabir'naas…copaanir ramaanar."
(I don't…want to die.)
Note: Want and to both use the same word for some reason. Rather than repeat myself, Dragonoids just uses the word once when saying 'want to'

"Ni…chaab Alor."
(I'm…afraid Superior.)

"Aht ar chaab…la aht kar'tayl gar copaani oyacyir."
(To be scared…is to know you are alive.)

"Vaabir naas shekemir ni, lenedat."
(Do not follow me, target.)
Note: the use of target is to emphasise the speaker won't hesitate to kill.

Author's Notes

First, some info on the Viking I should have added to the previous chapter.

The Viking's main inspiration is the vertical tanks from the original Steel Battalion game (the one with the massive controller, not the one with the cruddy motion controls), specifically the M7 Decider (google Steel Battalion Decider and you should have a general idea). Think less mobile suit and more walking turret or anti-aircraft battery. Part of the backstory is that the Dragonoids have control of the skies, so Humans developed assault frames as a way to move powerful weaponry to where it was needed on the battlefield. The Viking has no flight capabilities, but does have self righting jets should the mech fall over, which also gives it fast strafing capabilities. It is capable of running at 170 miles an hour in a straight line.

Onto today's chapter.

Of all the Dragonoids and characters I had to design, the equivalent for Toothless was probably the hardest. The Night Fury was always going to be a Dragonoid (the mech, not the alien), but this led to the problem that I couldn't use even half the bonding scenes between Toothless and Hiccup from the film because Toothless was now a giant robot and last I checked, mobile suit sized machines very rarely start acting like cats/dogs/horses etc. in any other anime I've ever seen. That was my thinking until Horizon: Zero Dawn came along anyway. If I'd started writing around when that game had been announced or released, Dragonoid might have been a whole different fanfic.

Anyway, Toothless' role has been split into two main halves; The Night Fury Dragonoid itself make up main body, and the personality...well, that I'll explain next week. Aside from Toothless providing the basic outline for the machine, the Night Fury's design took most of its inspiration from the Vent Saviour Gundam of Gundam SEED Destiny VS ASTRAY, which gave me a good example of a transformation sequence that was simple and relatively easy to describe (compared to other transformable mechs like the Zeta Gundam or the battlroid fighters from the Macross series.). The wings however were inspired by those found on the Freedom Gundam of Gundam Seed. I experimented with something that looked like Toothless' wings, but the only way I could make them work was if they had some kind of fabric between them, and that felt a little too…archaic for a futuristic alien race. Lastly, the humanoid head itself is loosely inspired by the Delta Plus' head from the Gundam Unicorn novels and OVA.

I can't remember the reason I gave the Night Fury a Humanoid mode. From a writing perspective, I think it was just because I found writing the battle sequences easier when I had a humanoid body to work with, but I can't remember what the in-universe reason was. Sorry.

That's all for today. See you next week!