First of all, I would like to express my gratitude to all the people who have followed, favorited, and reviewed my work. Your support means a lot to me, and I wanted to emphasize that the more encouragement I receive, the greater my inspiration to continue writing. Whether it's through following, favoriting, or leaving a review, knowing that there are readers out there motivates me to keep going. I sincerely hope that you all enjoy this chapter and continue to read along.
Interestingly, I recently read the novel adaptation of "Witch of Mercury" and found it quite compelling. It provided valuable background information on Aerial, Suletta, and her mother. Currently, I have reached the end of cour 1 or season 1. I haven't decided whether I should finish "Witch of Mercury" and catch up with it or wait for the season to conclude. Personally, I prefer binge-watching. Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I genuinely hope you enjoy this chapter!
Three Years Later – After the Destruction of Harmony
The Academy, a celestial abode nestled in the depths of space, housed a diverse congregation of students. It was a place where aspiring engineers and mech enthusiasts converged, seeking to master the art of working with colossal machines. As Deacon stirred from his slumber, he found himself in the midst of this grand institution, a sprawling campus that echoed the nostalgic charm of Earth's old boarding schools.
The Academy spared no expense in creating an environment conducive to learning and exploration. Towering structures, reminiscent of ancient lecture halls, housed brilliant minds imparting wisdom upon eager disciples. Countless dollars were poured into crafting a vibrant backdrop, complete with an artificial sky that stretched as far as the eye could see and a dueling ring that testified to the institution's dedication to excellence. The price tag on such magnificence was staggering, possibly reaching the realm of millions, if not billions.
Yet, amidst this opulence, a rich tapestry of students thrived. Most hailed from the planets scattered throughout the solar system—born on distant worlds, moons, and even satellites. They were the spacians, a diverse array of individuals whose lineage traced back to company CEOs, royalty, and heirs to vast celestial domains. However, their privileged backgrounds did little to shield them from the everyday tribulations of boarding school life, the banalities that plagued their existence.
"D-e-a-c-o-n," a voice, gentle yet insistent, whispered his name. Slowly, his consciousness emerged from the depths of slumber, his long, blond locks obscuring his vision. Deacon brushed aside the strands of hair, turning his face toward the person who had roused him from his dreams.
"Hey," he greeted, his voice infused with a drowsy haze. "What's up, Nika?"
Nika offered him a small, knowing smile as she settled into the seat beside him. Placing her school bag between them, she retrieved a pencil and a study sheet, signaling the impending challenge that lay before them. "Are you prepared for the anatomy test?" she inquired.
"Anatomy test," Deacon repeated, his gaze lingering on the pencil. "It's hard to fathom that even after decades of leaving Earth, we're still taking tests on paper."
"Seems like they still harbor reservations about entrusting machines with assessments," she responded, a tinge of irony coloring her words.
Deacon sighed, his hands instinctively tousling his disheveled hair, while Nika's watchful eyes observed him. "Are you alright?" she probed, concerned.
"Yeah," he confessed, his voice tinged with weariness. "It's just that I've been studying so much, and that's not really my thing."
A glimmer of understanding danced in her eyes as she regarded him. "I get it," she empathized. "Just take your time with the questions, and I'm sure you'll do fine. The professor isn't as merciless as you think. All you need to do is ponder the queries, and success will follow."
He rewarded her with a fleeting grin, a flicker of determination in his eyes. "When you put it that way, I'd be a complete imbecile if I failed this."
She nodded in agreement, but her expression soured gradually. Deacon sensed her unease and couldn't help but inquire, "You okay?"
Another nod followed, accompanied by a hint of resignation in her voice. "It's nothing," she replied. "Just that ship."
His gaze shifted toward the source of her concern as the artificial lights of the campus dimmed, drawing the attention of their peers. Together, they beheld the colossal wreckage looming in the distance, a mammoth vessel caught in a precarious embrace with the station's artificial atmosphere. Slowly, it circumnavigated the station, edging ever closer to the point of no return—a plunge into the infinite vacuum of space.
Once, it had been a mighty ship—though "mighty" hardly captured the bleak remnants now on display. What remained was a hulking mass, a mere fragment of its former self. They could trace the scars etched across its surface, the vestiges of explosive force that had ravaged its structure.
Murmurs of recognition rippled through the classroom, as his peers, too, recognized the ship and its former owner—or rather, what they used to be. Now reduced to a shattered relic, adrift in the cosmos, it stood as a testament to a forgotten past.
However, he could feel the weight of their collective gaze upon him, assuming he was oblivious to the significance. The whispers reached his ears, a chorus of half-heard words. Nika's hand found its way to his shoulder, drawing his attention away from the ship. He shook his head slowly, his eyes now fixed on the blackboard. "Are you okay?" she murmured, now posing the question to him.
"Yeah," he replied, his words swift and dismissive. "What's there not to be okay with?"
Rummaging through his backpack, he extracted a pencil and deftly twirled it between his fingers. Nika's gaze remained fixed upon him, concern etched across her face. "I don't mean to pry, but I just wanted to make sure you're okay with it. I know what you and Aidan have done for the sake of harmony and..."
He sighed, interrupting her. "We would have salvaged it, you know? Restored it to its former glory. But there's an infestation on board. You've heard what the professors and schoolmasters said."
In that moment, Nika caught a glimpse of his gaze drifting back to the ship—a relic of a dead past, tantalizingly out of reach. An infestation, a horde of treacherous creatures now dwelling within its carcass. Lethal insects capable of tearing mechs asunder if one were not careful.
Deacon shrugged his shoulders, but Nika could discern the pain etched upon his features—the struggle between his yearning mind and the tangible reality that demanded caution. "An infestation is too great a risk," he murmured, his eyes returning to meet hers. "The members of Earth House might understand. Sure, we have more wealth, and we're spacians, but we lack the capabilities of other spacians. Salvage is our only chance to reclaim what was lost."
He paused, steeling himself before continuing. "But it's not worth the danger. Our mechs are outdated and cobbled together. I don't want to lose anyone."
Nika listened intently, her gaze unwavering. "Did they agree with you?" she asked, her voice laden with curiosity. "Your house," she repeated, pressing for an answer. "Did they support your decision?"
He chuckled, his amusement evident. "Understanding is a far cry from agreeing," he remarked, dismissing the notion with a wave of his hand. "Members of Earth House may comprehend what it's like to coexist with us spacians, but understanding is enough. You don't have to like it. Though I must say, Aidan and a few others are a whole different story."
Her mind involuntarily drifted to Aidan. "He didn't approve?" she queried.
Deacon chuckled again. "If you consider throwing a tantrum as approval," he replied with a pause. "Sometimes being president is just too damn much."
Nika absorbed his words, nodding in tacit agreement.
"Don't get me wrong," he continued, his voice tinged with a mix of frustration and resignation. "I understand why Aidan and the guys want to explore that ship. Ammo, supplies, even a single intact titan would be a godsend. And a treasure trove of information, if we can snatch any data from the ship. Most of our crew relies on scavenged titans, you know." He sighed, hands finding their way to his face. "I understand their motivations, but we can't keep gambling like this. These missions are only getting riskier and riskier."
"I'm surprised the school even allowed you to attempt it," Nika interjected. "It's so close, and if something went wrong, it would be on your shoulders."
Deacon nodded in agreement. "Yeah, that's another thing. They know we'd go for something like this, and I don't like it," he exclaimed, his frustration palpable. "The companies let us salvage whatever we damn well pleased, yet they conveniently ignored the fact that there's a stage three infestation within that ship. We would've walked right into an ambush."
In a fleeting moment, Deacon's composed facade faltered, revealing a glimpse of seething anger that coursed through his veins. His hands connected forcefully with the table's edge. Nika caught sight of the turmoil brewing within him, the internal conflict he grappled with.
She was aware of the Sons of Harmony's activities, their principles, and their solemn pledge to recover machines and other artifacts tied to their homeworld. And yet, here was Deacon, the very president who had made those vows, now willing to let this opportunity slip through their fingers.
"I understand, truly," he continued, his arms wrapping around himself protectively. He averted his gaze, deliberately fixing his eyes on the tabletop, lest he caught sight of the ship on the horizon. "But it's too risky. Far too risky."
"Why don't you recover the ship later, when it's not in space?" Nika suggested.
"We can't retrieve it in space," he responded quickly. "Our mechs are not like yours. Hell, we don't even possess the proper equipment for genuine space combat."
"I don't know much about titans, but I don't think they were originally designed for space combat, right?" she mused, looking up at Deacon, hoping for clarification or perhaps a counterargument. Yet, all she received was a nod accompanied by a knowing smirk. "I didn't realize Earthians had such knowledge about titans," he remarked.
"Forget not, my friend," Nika replied with a wry smile, "that I too delve into the realm of mechanics. We study the functioning of IMC and Harmony Mechs in our classes."
Her exaggerated speech earned her a chuckle from the young president.
Deacon's smirk grew wider, his hands raised in surrender. "Well, well, I had no idea I was dealing with such an expert," he quipped, a sly grin dancing on his lips.
Undeterred, Nika pressed on. "The atmosphere," she began, "wouldn't that hinder your ability to fight effectively?"
Deacon nodded, his expression filled with a hint of regret. "Titans were primarily designed for ground combat and shock troops," he explained. "Towards the end of the war, as mechs and gundams were phased out, Titans started getting retrofitted with space-fighting capabilities. But it was a bit too late."
He sighed, the weight of history pressing upon him. "One of the reasons we lost was our obsession with the past," he continued, raising his fist with outstretched fingers. "We have only two pilots who can technically fight in space. One Northstar unit, and if my memory serves me right, I believe Jack's modified Monarch has some space-faring capabilities—thrusters, rockets, and whatnot."
"But that's the dilemma," he countered. "We're fixated on salvaging the remnants of the past, but we don't want it to impede our progress."
"I think I understand," Nika replied, her words laced with empathy. "You want to honor the past without letting it hinder your future."
Deacon's smile widened. "Thank you," he said appreciatively. "You're a real lifesaver, you know. It's surprisingly easy to talk to you."
"Well, don't make it sound like such a big deal," she retorted, though her features softened, betraying her true feelings.
A mischievous smirk played upon his face. "Hey," he interjected, seizing the moment. "Once we finish this test, how about we find something to do together?"
Nika had initially closed her eyes and reclined in her chair, but now she sat up straight, her eyes wide with anticipation as she leaned towards him. Her thoughts raced, eagerly awaiting his next words.
"You know, Nika," he began, his face reddening as he stumbled over his words. "I've always thought you were really pretty, and..."
Nika teetered on the edge of her seat, her eyes wide, her cheeks flushed a deep scarlet, as she already knew what he was about to say. But just as the words were about to spill from his lips, they saw it—a streak of light slicing through the sky, emerging from one of the academy's hangars.
"Yo, look at that!" one of Deacon's peers exclaimed, interrupting the delicate moment.
"I didn't know any ships were scheduled to leave today," another voice chimed in, raising the question.
But Deacon was already on his feet, shooting up from his chair, his gaze fixed on the window, where the familiar silhouette of the ship came into view. "Aidan," he muttered, realization dawning upon him. "You fool," he finished, his shock etched across his features. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead as he instinctively reached for his comms, preparing to...
"We are about to begin the midterm," their teacher's sudden voice reverberated through the room. "Take your seats. This is nothing new."
The teacher's voice filled the air, met with sighs from the lips of their peers. Many were eager to continue watching, their minds already concocting plans. Deacon even caught snippets of murmurs from his more cunning classmates, discussing how they could hack into the ship's camera feed to witness the unfolding events.
Deacon reached for his comms, while Nika slowly grasped the growing fear etched upon his face and the reason behind it. "Wait," she blurted out, her voice filled with apprehension. "Is that..."
Deacon activated his communication device, and Nika watched as static briefly overtook the screen before the image cleared. Jack's face appeared, adorned in the pilot uniform of the Harmony Militia, occupying the second half of the cockpit.
"Jack!" Deacon's voice thundered, resonating with such force that his peers and professors were taken aback. "You bring that ship back down this instant!"
He could already hear the mutterings of his classmates, feel their heated gazes upon him. Even Nika's expression mirrored shock. Deacon narrowed his eyes at the figure on the screen.
Jack stared back, adjusting his body armor and tightening his pilot uniform, wearing a calm smile. "Hey, Mr. President," he spoke, his voice dripping with casualness. "I don't know what your problem is. We're simply going for our monthly training. You've always stressed the importance of combat readiness and—"
"Cut the fucking crap," Deacon interrupted Jack, his voice slicing through the air. "You're my second-in-command, Jack. You know how dangerous this is, and yet you're allowing Aidan and the others to go ahead with this madness!"
Jack shrugged playfully, his shoulders rising and falling. "We're just taking our titans and the dropship to have a look," he muttered. "You said we could observe the ship from a distance. You know—"
Whispers had grown louder. Deacon's classmates around him buzzed with silent mutterings and judgments. "He can't even control his own people," a girl in the far left corner scoffed. "What kind of president leads like that?"
Someone sneered in response. "He's from a different house. No corporation supports them, and they act like they're untouchable because they come from a dead world. Look at the way they party and behave. Do you think they'd listen to anyone?"
Deacon found a twisted humor in this situation. "The Sons of Harmony," they would say, referring to the history of his world. To them, his people were barely tolerated, yet there was an underlying fear. Fear of what they were capable of, of what they could still do.
They were bad-mouthing their parties, of all things. The irony was not lost on Deacon. Almost everyone in the room, excluding the teacher, had attended one of their legendary Harmony House gatherings. If things went well, perhaps they'd have another celebration. But if it all went awry...
Deacon let out a groan as the professor's voice cut through the air. "Deacon," he hushed the room, commanding attention. "Setting aside your brashness and aggression, it's time to hand in your midterm device."
Deacon was dumbfounded, his eyes wide, hands flailing about. "What?" he blurted out, scarcely able to believe it. "Are you hearing what's happening out there?" He pointed toward the remnants of the spacecraft looming in the distance. "My house is defying my orders and preparing to launch an attack on that wreckage, risking their lives!"
The teacher simply stared at him, and then it dawned on Deacon. The teacher didn't care. It was like how it always had been. They were spacians, yes, but they were Sons of Harmony. There was a stigma attached to it. Sure, they had it better than the Earthians in some respects, but depending on the person, those differences didn't matter.
"Prick," Deacon murmured under his breath.
With a grimace, he descended the steps, the sounds of his housemates still resonating from the device. Handing the tablet over to his professor, he trudged back to his seat.
He sat down, running his hands through his hair, feeling a bitter mix of embarrassment coursing through him. He sensed Nika's gaze upon him, but he refused to meet her eyes. Instead, he glanced sidelong, watching the massive dropship recede further toward the wreckage of their past.
He let out a sigh. "Please, keep them safe," he muttered as he gripped the pencil and began working on his test. "Aidan."
The stars gleamed with ethereal beauty, scattered across the vast expanse of the cosmos outside the confines of the Aerial's cockpit. Miorine Rembran found solace in their radiance, a brief respite from the bitter taste of failure that lingered in her mind. As she exhaled, her breath transformed into a mist that clung to her astronaut uniform, adding to its already cumbersome weight. Yet, amidst the immensity of space, she embraced the weight, finding a strange comfort in its presence.
Within the unending void, where silence reigned supreme, a delicate peace settled upon her. It was a fragile tranquility, threatened by the memory of the massive mech that had crushed her hopes of escape. The pilot within, an oblivious and airheaded young girl, seemed oblivious to the wreckage left in her wake. Miorine struggled to fathom where she had gone astray, the answers elusive, just out of reach.
The girl possessed a mane of deep auburn locks, reminiscent of scarlet roses in bloom. Her eyes, a mesmerizing blend of teal and gray, held a certain depth, as if concealing secrets only the stars could fathom. Light olive skin graced her countenance, adding to her allure. However, her beauty was marred by an expression that conveyed a profound lack of understanding, a vacancy that seemed at odds with her stunning appearance.
The girl's inability to engage in meaningful conversation only served to heighten Miorine's frustration. Instead of acknowledging her presence, the girl remained absorbed in her own thoughts, oblivious to the catastrophic failure of their escape plan. Months of meticulous planning had gone up in smoke, a tantalizing taste of success snatched away at the last moment. How close they had come, only to be plunged into the depths of despair.
To add insult to injury, the cramped confines of the pod forced Miorine to practically sit on the girl's lap, contorting her neck into an uncomfortable angle. The pain slowly gnawed at her, a throbbing reminder of their current predicament. "Should've just tossed me out the cockpit," Miorine grumbled to herself, the bitterness tainting her words.
"You said something?" the girl responded, a single bead of sweat making its way down her face. How stressed she must be, Miorine observed with a mix of curiosity and concern. They had been traveling together, making their way towards the academy, in a silence that had been a welcome respite. The girl's incessant questioning had finally ceased, bringing Miorine a temporary sense of relief.
But now, the girl spoke again, breaking the fragile peace that had settled upon them. "Hey again," she said, her voice tentative, like a delicate flower emerging from the shadows. Miorine kept her head turned away, her gaze fixed on the world outside the window. Sweat trickled down her own forehead, mirroring the girl's nervous perspiration. A wave of uncertainty crashed over her, unsure of how to respond to this sudden change in the girl's demeanor.
"I don't really know what I did wrong... I thought you were in trouble, but you weren't... I am sorry," the girl stammered, her words tumbling out in a jumble of confusion and remorse. Miorine remained silent, her head still averted. But within her, a stirring of guilt took root, like a dormant ember flickering to life.
"Listen, you said you want me to take responsibility, and I am willing to do that," the girl continued, her voice trembling. She paused, grappling with her own thoughts. "I just... I just..." Her voice trailed off, lost in a sea of uncertainty.
"My name is Sulletta," she finally revealed, a vulnerable admission that hung in the air. Miorine sighed, torn between anger and empathy. The girl's actions had been misguided, but her intentions were rooted in a genuine desire to help. She simply didn't know any better, and perhaps, just perhaps...
A ship slowly materialized at their side, following the current of their trajectory. Miorine and Sulletta turned their heads in unison, their eyes locking onto the enigmatic vessel. "What's that?" Sulletta exclaimed, her voice brimming with innocent wonder.
"I don't know," Miorine replied, her gaze fixed upon the vessel. It was larger than most spacecraft they had encountered, a medium-sized craft carrier, majestically gliding beneath them. Its midnight blue hull was adorned with accents of silver and gold, and bolts of purple and deep blue lightning crackled along its sides. Sulletta, still oblivious to the gravity of their situation, marveled at the vivid display, her teal eyes alight with childlike fascination.
But Miorine saw beyond the spectacle. She noticed the battle scars, the remnants of bullet holes and laser rifle imprints. The vessel had been repaired and painted over, but the wounds were still visible, a testament to its violent past.
A blip on the control panel caught Miorine's attention, prompting her to tilt her head and investigate. As she did so, Sulletta stretched her hand forward, curiosity etched on her face. "What are you doing?" she asked, her innocence undimmed by the encroaching danger that lay before them.
"Someone is trying to contact me and Aerial," Sulleta announced, her voice filled with a mixture of curiosity and trepidation. Without hesitation, she tapped the screen, cutting off any objections from Miorine before they could be voiced. What awaited them on the other side was not the anticipated threat of pirates, but rather the image of a young man, seemingly their age.
The young man possessed straight brown hair, meticulously slicked and combed back, while his pale, freckled skin was concealed beneath a heavy militia pilot suit. A pregnant silence enveloped the trio, though it wasn't truly silence, for Sulleta stumbled over her words, attempting to muster a greeting.
Yet, it was the boy who broke the spell, his utterance carrying an air of awe. "Woah," he murmured, his gaze darting to his surroundings as if searching for something. "I didn't expect to find two beauties in space. Looks like it's my lucky day."
He nonchalantly wrapped his arms around himself, propping his legs up on the desk, as Miorine groaned in annoyance. She was all too familiar with his intentions. However, what surprised her was his unabashed nature. Guel, her usual companion, would have unleashed his wrath upon anyone who spoke to her in such a manner, especially another man.
Sulleta, on the other hand, reacted differently. Her face flushed crimson, her whole being trembling in response to his words. She clasped her hands together, fidgeting nervously as her gaze shifted towards her fingers.
"Annoying," she mumbled, the word barely escaping her lips.
"Annoying?" he echoed, a chuckle accompanying his words. "Okay, fine." He raised his hands in mock surrender. "Maybe I was a bit too forward. What are your names?"
Miorine averted her gaze, disinterested in entertaining the advances of a man in this particular moment. Instead, Sulleta, oblivious to the young man's intentions, stuttered out her name. "Sulleta," she murmured.
"Really?" he replied, a smirk deepening across his face. "Sulleta. That's a strange name."
"And yours?" she inquired, surprising Miorine momentarily with her uncharacteristic lack of a stutter.
"Mine," he repeated, savoring the moment. "Oscar. I'm a member of Harmony House. I reached out to let you guys know that this haul belongs to us."
"Our haul?" Miorine repeated, her features contorting in a mix of annoyance and disappointment. "We're not out here to steal your stuff. This girl over here foiled my escape attempt, and..."
Her voice trailed off as she glanced at Sulleta and then back at the screen. "Why are we even talking to this guy?" she questioned. "We can just hang up on him."
Just then, a new voice joined the conversation, its tone laced with suppressed laughter. "You're getting another girl to hang up on you," the voice taunted from within the call. "Damn, Oscar. You have horrible luck with women!"
As the person floated closer to Oscar's desk, the girls realized that despite the complexity and vastness of their ship, it lacked the power or resources to maintain proper gravity within its interior. Whether by design or scarcity, the absence of gravity added an eerie touch to their encounter.
The figure glided toward Oscar, gripping the back of his chair to steady himself. With dark skin and a shaved head, he sported a pair of glasses perched on his nose, which he adjusted before peering into the frame.
"Sorry about Oscar," he apologized, earning a stern look from the young man. "I'm Jack. Seriously, he's harmless, but he can come off as a bit of a creep sometimes."
"I am not a creep!" Oscar retorted with a shout.
"Sure you are, buddy," Jack retorted, a smirk playing on his lips. But as his focus returned to the screen, his eyes widened. "Miorine..."
"What?" Oscar replied, only to have Jack shake his head. Then, in the next instant, Jack's hand slapped the back of Oscar's head.
"What the fuck?" Oscar snapped, his anger flaring. "Why did you hit me?"
Jack's face turned crimson, and he grabbed Oscar by the shoulder, forcibly turning him towards the screen. Suletta and Miorine stood frozen, even Miorine's bravado and pride wavering in the face of the unfolding scene.
"Look at who you're hitting on!" Jack snapped. "That's Miorine... the one who is going to marry the Holder."
It took Oscar a moment, but then his eyes widened so much that the whites were visible. "Oh fuck!" his voice boomed, echoing within Aerial's cockpit. "Fuck... fuck, bro, this is bad!"
Jack's features quickly contorted with laughter. Miorine and Suletta stared in utter confusion, struggling to comprehend the bizarre turn of events.
"Guel is going to beat the shit out of you," Jack managed to say through his laughter, clapping his hands together. "He's going to beat your ass."
Bent over with laughter, Jack lost his grip on the back of Oscar's chair and floated in the absence of gravity within the spaceship. His arms wrapped around himself, tears streaming down his cheeks, his voice booming as he coughed from the sheer force of his amusement.
Oscar, on the other hand, clasped his hands around his head, his eyes wide as the gravity of the situation slowly sank in. "Oh my god," he muttered. "Guel is going to kill me... I am going to get murdered."
Miorine could only stare in shock. Was this the level of fear people harbored for the man she was technically meant to marry?
However, Suletta was grappling with something entirely different. Her limited knowledge of the dueling system and the constraints placed upon it to prevent real harm meant that she perceived Oscar's fear as painfully real. Overwhelmed, Suletta let out a startled yell. "You should escape!" she snapped.
Yet, there was a pause. For a moment, Jack's laughter was the only sound, slowly dying down as Oscar's expression turned deadly serious.
"No," he stated firmly.
Miorine and Suletta fell into a heavy silence, captivated by that one resolute word. Oscar's narrowed eyes bore into Miorine. "Fuck that," he murmured. "I can barter, I can trade, or I can fight Guel. I'd rather lose all my money or get my ass kicked than run away."
He wrapped his arms around himself, reclining in the chair, emanating a newfound confidence and an ignited power. Miorine was struck by something—an unfamiliar sensation that stirred within her. Oscar, whom she had perceived as a playboy on the verge of tears and potentially wetting his pants in fear, now spoke with an unwavering resolve. He would face the consequences rather than flee.
"I'd rather fight on my feet, give it my all until I have nothing else," he declared, his fingers clenched into fists. His deep brown eyes locked onto the pair of girls, his determination palpable through the screen. "If I ran away, I'd lose so much. My scholarship, my brothers, my home," he paused, catching his breath. "It's like what my friend Aidan always says..."
He glanced at the screen, fear and anger draining away. His eyes focused on the girls as he spoke words of strength. "If you move forward, you gain two; if you run, you gain one."
Miorine absorbed his words, recognizing a simple wisdom beneath the playboy exterior. There was more to be gained from progress than from retreat. However, Suletta was rendered speechless, her attempt at forming words a jumbled mess, reducing her to near-muteness.
"That's..." she managed to point a quivering finger at the screen. "That's exactly what my mom says. You legitimately stole that from her!"
Miorine was impressed—Suletta had formed a coherent sentence. But Oscar was taken aback, his hands rising in disbelief, his mouth partially agape. "What the fuck!" he bellowed, immediately silencing the two girls. "I don't know your mom; I don't even know my mom!"
He breathed heavily, then realized something. "Shit, I'm sorry," he hastily apologized. "You're Miorine's friend and..."
Like a flickering lightbulb illuminating his mind, a small smirk danced across his features. He clapped his hands together, focusing on the screen. "Oh," he muttered, "I got this."
"Got what?" Miorine inquired.
He pointed at the screen. "That girl, she's your friend, right?"
Suletta turned towards Miorine, an expression of doubt mingled with hopeful anticipation forming on her features as a faint smile began to emerge. However, Miorine swiftly quashed that hope.
"No," she responded simply. "She foiled my escape attempt and..."
However, Oscar paid no heed to the lack of interest. He clapped his hands so forcefully that the sound reverberated within the cockpit, wincing at the resulting pain as he locked his gaze onto the two girls. "I can really help your friend right now. I can genuinely be of assistance," he declared, spinning towards Suletta.
"Suletta," he spoke softly. "Listen, I know I'm quite the catch, but you and Miorine aren't my type."
"Shut up, Oscar," Jack retorted. "They're not your type either."
Oscar waved him off dismissively. "But, Suletta, do you have a boyfriend?"
Suletta winced, as if she had just bitten into a sour lemon. "N... n... no," she stuttered.
"Good!" Oscar exclaimed. "Well, I've got the perfect person for you."
He raised his hand, curling his fingers as he began listing the qualities. "Handsome, tall, muscular, and guess what, he's very much single." He looked at Jack for confirmation.
Jack chimed in. "You know, the way you describe Aidan just makes me think you're not really interested in girls anymore." He paused, glancing at the screen. "Our friend recently ended a fling with a girl from one of the other houses. It wasn't anything serious, but he's an alright dude."
"Jack... just... let me work, bro," Oscar retorted. "I don't want to fight Guel," he repeated solemnly.
Miorine let out a hollow chuckle. "Then what was the whole point of that 'move forward' thing you mentioned?" she retorted.
"Well," Oscar ground his teeth together as he stretched out his words. "I did mention that I would barter if I needed to..."
"So, you're going to sell out your friend?" Miorine interjected. "Despicable," she replied.
Oscar waved her off, redirecting his attention to Suletta with the same sly grin. "So, how about it, Suletta?" He stared at her, his smirk widening. "Let me introduce you to my friend. His name is Aidan Winters, and he's our ace pilot for Harmony House."
Suletta trembled visibly. It wasn't solely out of fear but a combination of embarrassment and anticipation. Her entire body shook, and even Miorine, who was practically pressed against her due to the confined space, was jostled around.
"Hey," Miorine interrupted, swaying away from the cockpit. "Stop that!" she exclaimed.
"I can't!" Suletta blurted out. "I'm nervous... I made a list, and going on dates was one of the things on it, and..."
Oscar clapped his hands once more. "Then it's settled!" Suletta's pleas to give her time to think fell on deaf ears as Oscar's voice boomed throughout the ship. "Aidan!" his voice resounded.
"He's probably got his headphones in or he's busy talking to Jack..."
"What is it!" another voice boomed, though it remained out of the frame.
Suletta had reached her breaking point. Sweat practically drenched her suit, and she was a trembling, stuttering mess. Her gaze faltered, her composure shattered, as her mother's words relentlessly pounded in her head, urging her to find strength. But those words couldn't stop her from slamming the console shut, the word "Disconnected" casting its neon glow upon the screen.
Oscar remained seated, staring at the disconnection message. "What the fuck," he murmured. "Disconnected."
"Maybe you creeped them out too much," Jack quipped, floating by his side. "You really have a knack for scaring women away."
"Shut up!"
Unfortunately, they had heard him. The mechanical bionic arm of Aidan, like a metallic serpent, looped around the banisters that separated the docking bay from the cockpit. His piercing dark blue eyes locked onto the pair. "What's going on here?" Aidan demanded, his headphones resting around his throat.
"Nothing," Jack quickly replied. However, he tilted his gaze towards Oscar. "He was just trying to set you up on a date."
Aidan let out a sigh, running his fingers through his unruly locks of dark black hair. "Thank you, Oscar," he said, his voice tinged with a touch of sarcasm. "But unlike you, I don't need help with women."
"Oh, you guys!" Oscar was about to unleash a barrage of insults, but Aidan raised his hand.
He shook his head slowly. "No more jokes," he commanded. "We're right above the ruins of the vessel. Remember, that place is infested with dangerous creatures."
Jack's expression tightened. "A bug hunt," he spat out.
Aidan nodded solemnly. "We're all going down there," he said, tilting his head to the side. "The ship is on autopilot. Once we have enough power, we'll open the hangar and bring the ship inside. Then, we'll scavenge what we need."
"Bug hunt," Oscar smirked. "Can't wait to dive into the thick of it. It'll be satisfying to shoot enemies that don't shoot back."
"Don't get too confident, Oscar," Jack warned. "Some of those aliens could tear through our Titans effortlessly."
"We've faced worse," Aidan interjected. "Grab your supplies, gather knowledge, and if we're lucky, we might even have enough time to access the armory."
He clenched his bionic fist, the mechanical sound echoing in the silence. His eyes narrowed as a wide smirk stretched across his features.
"Get ready, ladies," he shouted. "Get ready for Titanfall."