Note: This fanfiction was written as an epilogue for one possible path in the choose your own adventure (CYA) interactive novel, Mecha Ace, by Choice of Games. The path details are listed below, and will be spoilers for anyone who hasn't played the game. This fanfiction was pretty much written for my own desire to see a happier ending or continued storyline.

Path 1: Male Protagonist, Issa Ashla'il

(a) Pilot rivalry → Passionate romance with Asadi

(b) Fights to protect homeworld

(c) Long-range piloting

(d) Picton autocannon

(e) Trusted Asadi's (she/her) command competency

(f) Trusted in Mithril Lance's capabilities when deploying them separate from yourself

(g) Prosthetic right hand

(h) Mithril Lance survived every battle

(i) Friendship with the Chief Weaver

(j) Tactical and pragmatic about the war, but compassionate towards allies.

Confirmed kills: 63

2 years after the Battle of Vedria…

The monitor claims the inertia field is holding, but the maneuver you just made to avoid a barrage of short-range missiles leaves your stomach unconvinced. Using the thrust nozzles mounted to the front of your combat armature, you jet backwards, escaping the engagement range of the closing enemy armatures. Your beam rifle takes quick but accurate shots—trimming the enemy lance closing around you. Just as they start to fire their boosters to leap into melee, blue beams pierce their lightly armored cores and the enemy unit is caught in their own explosions.

Your Lance has returned, their assignment completed: the destruction of the automated asteroid drone factory. Vespids, the name that Intelligence has assigned them, were the Earth Empire's attempts to balance the numbers of experienced pilots lost in the war.

Given AI decision-making and learned-behaviors from shadowed piloting sessions, most Vespids were wholly inferior to a human pilot of any skill. At this stage in the war, it was safe to say that every CoDEC pilot possessed enough skill to wipe out half a Vespid lance-swarm, given any semblance of support.

Irregardless, you and Mithril Lance have triumphed over the only human-piloted lance in this sector, and the impies were left desperately trying to retreat.

Which came as good news to you, as you absently massage your right wrist. Months ago, until your prosthetics could be applied, piloting with one-hand had killed your ability to fight in rigorous, fast-paced CQC. When you finally fought out enough space to give CoDEC room to breathe, the Caliburn returned to Vedria's O'Neill cylinder to put in for repairs, shore leave, and your long-awaited prosthetic installation… But by this point, weeks of spearhead duties had honed your decision making and aim.

Yet it still felt like it was becoming harder to keep up with the few surviving aces of the Empire, whose numbers were growing with every defeat in which an enemy lance got away. And of course, Asadi would remind you of it at every turn.

"Only took out 4 before we arrived? We took out two 'swarms and the entire factory in the meantime, c'mon, boss." Asadi quipped through the comms.

"It was my EMP rocket that took out the second swarm, or are you trying to take all the credit, Two?" Mithril-Three said.

You interject, focusing your team. "Alright, alright—let's head back before the Captain checks in, unless Two wants to take the call this time? I could say my comms are busted."

Asadi takes the bait and talks the squad's ears off as you turn to lead your lance back towards the Caliburn, drifting away from the bleeding husks.

…

You have some time as you slow down into dock. Asadi's spirits are high, considering the war dragged on long after your victory at Vedria. The Lionhearts have been produced, true to the doctor's word, and what once required a sizable fleet could now be accomplished by a modern CoDEC battlegroup.

CoDEC is converging on Earth's solar system, it won't be long now until this war ends. There's one last combat zone that the Caliburn needs to retake before you can go for the throat, and it happens to be Libertad III.

Asadi's homeworld.

The customary hiss of pressurization awakes you from your thoughts. As time as worn on, the cockpit has felt tighter and tighter around you—like the depths of space could crush your pod and leave it to sink into the bottom of the nearest gravity well. You could swear the air feels thinner, too; the recycled air stale against the O'Neill cylinder you'd managed to get shore leave to over 4 months ago.

You unstrap and stand slowly, stretching. You and every other pilot in CoDEC hoped that the Battle of Vedria would have turned the tide against the Empire. Instead? The destruction of their fleet set them back, sure. The Lightbearer was in hiding, escorted by a shadow fleet that kept their thrusters offline to minimize detection. While that threat of death drifted through the stars, hitting Imperial grounded infrastructure, Mithril lance and the Caliburn had been busy on the frontline.

Stepping outside of your cockpit, you feel the air start to lighten and a smile sets in as you walk towards Asadi's mass-production Lionheart.

She steps out at your side, and your grin turns into a softer, casual smile. The adrenaline from battle must be starting to leave her, as she quietly smiles and walks with you on the catwalk.

Waiting until the sound of welding and repairs was snatched away behind the seal of the hangar doors, she stops, pinning you to the side of the corridor and kissing you passionately.

You accept it, build on it, feel the press of her lips and hold her tight to you for a few seconds of happiness. As you break your embrace, however, you feel the air linger in the space between your lips. Her eyes open slowly, staring into yours.

"Your room or mine?" she asks.

But you can't avoid the question on your mind anymore.

"I… I actually have something I wanted to talk to you about," you start.

She takes a step back, addressing you with first, curiosity, and then, standing up a little taller, she nods.

"Yeah, of course. What's on your mind, boss?"

You both start walking down the corridor again as you find the words.

"We're going to hit Libertad III soon. We won't be able to stay for long, but I hear we're getting a day to rest after this assault."

You look into her face, concerned for the emotions that must be brewing in her fiery spirit. She knows what you're thinking, and replies coolly, "I know."

A silence follows as you both continue to walk through the hallways. Eventually, you reach her quarters and both come to a stop.

"Fatima… I don't know if there's still a fight on the surface from the insurgents. I don't know… what's left."

For a moment, even her strong presence breaks eye contact, shifting to the floor grating, then the wall. Eventually, her eyes tip-toe back over to your face, and her face is set.

"It's like you told me before my first command—I can't let their deaths be in vain."

You nod slowly, but as she opens the door and steps to leave you, she feels you still have something left on your mind. She turns, leaning against the doorframe, trying to act casual. You see her shoulders trembling, very faintly.

"I hope we find them." You manage to say at last, though the words feel hollow and stale.

She looks at you. For a moment, her facial expressions are chaotic—switching between which emotion she wanted to express. You see the fatigue of battle written over her features, and before she can respond, you say it for her.

"Goodnight. Get some rest."

She swallows the tension, and nods, blinking slowly. The door closes behind you.

…

"Pin them against the storm clouds, we have to wipe this lance out before we reach the garrison!"

Your lance proudly acknowledges, moving with a swiftness and comfort of skill that could only be cultivated over three years being on the frontlines.

The enemy lance, losing their maneuverability for fear of eating a lightning bolt, and aiming against the silhouettes of your team pitted against the two bright suns of this system, stand no chance.

Their burning wrecks falling below the clouds are the garrison's only warning of your arrival. Fatima surges ahead, taking out the base defenses while you snipe the sensor suite and communication arrays atop the fortifications.

Enemy ballistics spray out against your team, but the Lionhearts' armor is too good to be penetrated by these outdated weapons, and your speed is unmatched. Your team is about to turn the outer defenses to rubble, when your sensors detect an explosion coming from inside of the facility.

As the enemy defense starts to orient itself inwards, you decide to call your team off of the direct assault and stay at range for observation and pinpoint targeting.

This position gives you the visual confirmation that their mechs are certainly targeting their own defense elements—and you hear a broadcast on open channels.

"This is Nashira, of the Free Libertad III Alliance, requesting assistance from the CoDEC lances assaulting this prison."

Prison? Intelligence had missed that this garrison was clearly undermanned, as evident from their antiquated defense against an enemy lance. To corroborate their point, however, there was certainly a need for the Empire to dedicate more resources to crushing insurgencies given the news of how the war was cascading in CoDEC's favor for the past year.

An alert cuts through, however, directing your lance to intercepting a wide-scale enemy counterattack in your region. Three lances were deployed against as many cities, and Mithril Lance was the only team in the area that might be able to respond to any of the three.

Thus, if you're to help this prison break, it might take too much time and leave them vulnerable to assault. However, aiding the prison could yield freedom fighters and captured mechs to respond to the city situations—assuming they arrive in time, or are skilled enough to not end up dying the second they enter the engagement.

…

"Mithril-Two, take Five and Six and respond to the nearest city. Three, Four, you're with me to the next city as soon as we secure this prison break. We're going to help them capture these armatures intact, and ask them to defend the last city."

"Affirmative, classic Mithril play," Mithril-Three says as they advance to the facility.

"Mithril-Lead, recommend our teams switch roles. The range on your fancy beam rifle would let you respond sooner than if my team had to move into medium range."

You consider it for a second, but your team is also already moving and they need orders.

"Negative, Two. You know the planet better and are our expert on urban fighting. I need you on the move, fast."

"... On it, Mithril-Lead." Asida says, before her unit flies away, scorching the earth behind them.

A quick scan of the prison and coordination with this Nashira figure allows your team to shoot some choice corridors where the prison guards have set up choke points. The enemy commander is passionate, well-trained, and following good orders. Concerning for the enemy you'll face on this planet.

Regardless, you've got control of the combat armatures. A few minutes later than you'd have liked, you've retaken the prison and Nashira has readily agreed to coordinate a relief effort for the third city.

Your comm bursts with static, and a worried voice fights through what could only be a jammer: "Ene-... orbital… -ture disabled… repeat… -retreating, orbital strike…" If you hadn't spent so long getting to know your team, it'd have been impossible to even know whose voice is on the line.

But the fact that it isn't Asida quickens your heartbeat. Your team speeds towards the first city to save your lance, while you desperately await your flight controller's report on the situation from their position in orbit.

Just as the city skyline rises into view, a sliver of light cuts through the afternoon sky. The green curves of the distant land ruptures, accelerating upwards, like the earth was desperately climbing on top of one another. Behind the blocks of earth being ripped from the ground, a dome of light blinds your scopes, followed shortly by a boom that threatens to overload your audio sensors.

You're filled with dread as a phrase catches in your mind: Scorched earth. Your flight controller has answers for you, but it's too late. Nowhere else on this planet is there as pointed of an orbital strike; apparently, the response was only for your team, even though the enemy combat armatures were still in the area. So this wasn't scorched earth.

This was a trap.

…

Because you had withdrawn your mechs to confirm the statuses of Asadi, Five, and Six, two of the remaining civilian population centers were annihilated without a fight. But when your team arrived, your armatures couldn't even poke through rubble because your shielding was damaged in the attack on the prison.

While your team couldn't poke around, it turned out that Imperial prison armatures were built for construction, demolition, labor—and suddenly you were very happy to have helped Nashira, as their team poked through the wreckage with almost as much gusto as you would have expected of your CoDEC allies.

You didn't know what drove them, but you had too much on your mind to linger on the thought.

After a day's search, they couldn't find any armatures matching your CoDEC descriptions; though, much of the combat area was vaporized.

…

Days passed. Nashira's unit was combined under Mithril's operational group to achieve greater objectives, typically freeing other prisoners and resource groups of the planet.

It wasn't until a week later that you heard news you were losing hope of getting: three isolated CoDEC combat armatures in a distant region, operating independently and not responsive to comms.

That very night, your unit carved a swathe through the enemy border and left their bases in flames. Skill was not a concern; time, ammunition, and fuel were holding you back.

You blast your way through the valley until you locate three silhouettes atop a mountain. An excellent sniping position, with no cover on the approach to the base of the mountain. Asida, Liao, Jacques.

Alive.

Enemy groups were converging on this position, following your trail of destruction.

You split fuel with these machines, though it means you'll all run low. You're just glad that Captain Baelyn recognized the value in retrieving valuable pilots and machines and deployed a picket ship that could dock your team… if you made it into orbit. This ship, running dark, was waiting somewhere above you in orbit.

Quickly, silently, your team climbed, unable to patch into the comms of these machines opposite of you, wondering what their physical status looked like.

The silent tension followed you all up to the Tachira, and it seemed like the hissing of the air pressurization mimicked your sigh of relief as your team raced out of their cockpits and crowded around the damaged machines.

The engineers were having trouble opening their cockpits, and had resorted to slicing them out. Their machines were blackened with char and mud, scratched up by weapons fire. The fact that the team had managed to avoid fuel-intensive activities while physically healing, alone behind enemy territory without functioning communication systems, was usually cause for pride in the commander's ability.

You had a more pressing focus, however. After the first two doors were pried open, your squad rushed their friends and comrades to the infirmary. Desperately, you wait for the third, and last, door. Nashira walks up besides you, watching this with a look in her eyes you hadn't seen before.

With the gutteral sound of metal grinding on metal suddenly stopping, a pause is followed by the heavy crash of the cockpit door on the floor of the hangar. With an opening sliced open, a pilot climbed out. You see her black hair, her milk tea skin tone, and a blood-dirt mix caked onto her uniform and features.

She slowly, numbly turns from face to face, until slowly she seems to lock her gaze onto you. She takes one step, and so do you, but her knees buckle and she starts to fall. You start forward, but Nashira beats you to it—and she's crying.

She catches Asida before she falls, and hugs her, repeating over and over, "You found us… you found me…"

Days later, Nashira Asida and Fatima Asida were both in the medical bay, when you walk in to see how she's doing. Fatima and Nashira have spent every conscious moment catching up, fit with laughing and crying and stunned silence. Today is the second time you've come in to see her while she's awake, and you walk in to greet their subsiding laughter.

Fatima wipes tears from her eyes, and sees you walk in. She raises an eyebrow, picking up an empty cup and threatening to throw it at you.

"You haven't come to see me in three days, what gives?"

You smile, feeling your eyes water as you walk forward and sit at her side.

"Oh, can't say anything because you've got no defense," she squints, leaning in closer. A wolfish grin flashes across her face as she cups your face in her hand. "At least I already know how you're going to make this up to me."

Your hand meets hers, resting on your face, and you close your eyes with a smile. "I will."

When the moment passes, you and Fatima turn your heads to face Nashira. You spend the next few hours hearing stories of the sisters' family life, their memories of Libertad III, their progress in their respective fights… and their losses.

The conversation finally starts to slow down as Nashira says she has to go organize the Alliance's next movements, and as you start to leave to give Fatima her rest, she tugs on your sleeve to stop you.

"Alright… tell me, Issa, will I be flying before our next op?"

You pause, look back at her, smiling sadly but with some residual humor on your spirit. "At Vedria, you saved me from the Blue Masque. Only you could have—of course, only you." You sit down and hold her hands in yours. "Now, we leave for the heart tomorrow, and I want you there as my wingman. But if you're still in this room, recovering, resting from this long, long war…"

You lean down to kiss her hand, and look her face, slowly becoming more flushed, slowly gaining a wider grin. "I'll protect this ship AND send the impies packing."

She laughs at your bravado. "That's why I love you."

She takes your arm and pulls you into a passionate kiss. You feel her hands exploring your back and you hold the back of her head. For a moment you're tempted to go further, but you're a Commander now and you know you should save this behavior for the privacy of your quarters.

But as you slowly pull away, content to leave her to rest, she gets one last word in.

"We know they're gonna make me fly for the last sortie; but I'll be ready. With two of CoDEC's premier aces out there, this war will finally end. And then we…"

You smile, giving her one last kiss, before pulling away and heading towards the door. "After the battle, let's have that date at Crown Station… Lieutenant Commander."

"About time."

She sits up a little straighter. "Commander."

End