"Where the hell am I?" a man groaned from the pilot's seat of a damaged F-22 fighter jet.
Holding his hand up to his cracked helmet, the pilot groaned again as he tried to recall what had happened before he blacked out. "Those asteroids," he muttered. "And that light."
Feeling a massive throbbing pain on the side of his head, he grunted quietly and moved his hand back, feeling something warm and wet. Bringing his hand in front of him, his eyes zeroed in on the fresh blood staining his glove. "Fantastic," he muttered to himself.
Activating his jet's radio, he flipped the communication switch and called out, "SkyEye, this is Mobius 1. Do you copy?"
Static was the only response. "I repeat, this is I.S.A.F fighter pilot Mobius 1 to any friendly I.S.A.F units in the area. I was forced into an emergency landing in the ocea—" His words trailed off. "I crashed into the ocean," he muttered to himself. "I should be dead right now... Where am I?"
Finally looking out of his fighter's canopy, his eyes widened in shock seeing a planet before him. Vast unyielding landscapes awash in shades of orange and brown that paint a picture of a dry, desert-like world. The natural ruggedness of the planet is punctuated by sprawling industrial complexes that extend over large swaths of the surface, visible even from space. These immense structures, with their metallic and gray hues, contrast sharply against the warmer tones of the planet's terrain.
"I'm in space? Impossible."
He closed his eyes and shook his head, maybe he was imagining it, but sure enough, far ahead of him was a planet. It appeared to be a barren desert world, its atmosphere seemingly incapable of supporting life. Mobius 1 was too stunned to panic. He tried to rationalize the situation logically. "Maybe I'm dreaming," he thought. "Maybe I'm in an infirmary somewhere, unconscious."
"What am I supposed to do now?" he asked himself before his radio picked up a transmission.
"This mach battle will not only demonstrate the many capabilities of the Van-types but also prove the strength of the mighty Tarak Empire."
"Tarak Empire?" Mobius 1 muttered. "What the hell is going on here?"
Turning his attention to his flight controls, he was relieved to see his craft's systems still active, though he was puzzled to find that his engine was operational in the void of space. "I'll have to figure that out later," he concluded. "For now, I need to determine if I can trust these people."
Starting the fighter's engines, Mobius 1 locked his eyes on a large fleet flying above the planet ahead. His instincts told him that trouble was brewing, but he had little choice at this point.
As he closed in on the fleet, Mobius 1 heard the ping of his radar, indicating many unidentified hits behind a large, stationary asteroid. "Here we go," he muttered.
His instinct proved correct. A second fleet appeared from behind the asteroid, launching an attack on the fleet in front of him.
An intercepted radio transmission caught his attention: "We are under attack! Cancel the exhibition. Scramble all pilots for a counterattack!"
"What's going on?" another voice asked.
The panicked voice continued, "It's the women! They're attacking!"
"The women are attacking?" Mobius repeated, bewildered. "What is that supposed to mean?"
He watched as several of the first fleet's ships were destroyed in the surprise attack, these attackers were swift and their numbers seemed to be easily over a hundred as they swarmed the first fleet like a hive of riled up hornets.
The first fleet's flagship opened its hangars, and many humanoid-shaped ships, or Vanguards, poured out to defend against the attack.
Slowing his fighter to a halt, Mobius watched the humanoid machines clash with the strange fighters from the opposing fleet. "Maybe I should just hang back for a bit," he thought. Just then, a sharp throbbing pain pierced his head, and he hunched over, gripping the front of his helmet with both hands and grunting loudly.
"We are taking heavy damage! We can't hold out much longer!" the same panicked voice cried over the radio. "Prime Minister!"
"Attention all Vanguard units! Unidentified ship lingering at coordinates Alpha 23, 17. Assume hostile and destroy it."
Hearing the warning alarms in his cockpit, Mobius snapped back to a sitting position and turned his fighter just in time to avoid an attack by one of the humanoid machines.
"That's not good," the I.S.A.F pilot muttered, seeing several of the humanoid machines flying toward him.
Flying straight past the first enemy, Mobius deftly maneuvered between them, trying to bait them into attacking each other. "I didn't do anything to these people. Why are they attacking me?"
Failing to shake his attackers, Mobius realized he had no choice but to fight back. "Fine you asked for it," he muttered, making a sharp turn and firing a single missile at one of his pursuers, hitting the humanoid machine in its chest.
"The unknown craft destroyed one of the Van-types!" a voice cried over the radio. "All pilots, destroy the unknown hostile!"
"Perfect," Mobius growled as the other humanoid machines began targeting him with renewed vigor.
Leading a small group of enemies on a chase through the battle, Mobius easily evaded their attacks as if they weren't even trying to hit him. He then turned around to shoot them down one by one.
"Do these things even have pilots?" he wondered aloud, noting their poor flight performance. "I've seen I.S.A.F rookies who can fly better than that."
Spotting what looked like a spear-tip fighter jet, Mobius watched several of the humanoid machines grab onto the red fighter, trying to force it out of formation.
"The enemy of my enemy," Mobius said as he turned to pursue the red spearhead-shaped fighter. "I still feel like I'm going to regret this later."
"Ah! What are these things? They're getting in my way!" a female voice cried over the radio.
"Don't worry about the Vanguards," another female voice ordered coldly. "Just concentrate on the enemy flagship."
"What is that? That's not a Vanguard!" the first female voice exclaimed, seeing Mobius' F-22 flying alongside her before it slowed down and took position behind her.
"Come on, keep steady," Mobius muttered as he waited for his targeting system to acquire the humanoid machines latched onto the red fighter. "There we go," he whispered, using his index finger to pull the trigger on his flight stick, firing the machine guns of his fighter.
The guns of the F-22 fired rapidly and in the void of space flew at uninterrupted velocity, quickly tearing through the armor of the humanoid machines, forcing them off the red fighter, destroying two of them.
After clearing the enemies off his temporary ally, Mobius accelerated and turned away from the red fighter, redirecting his attention to what he assumed was the enemy's flagship.
"Payback time," Mobius growled, diving toward the hull of the enemy flagship and firing two missiles before pulling away. "Target splashed," he confirmed to himself.
"You think that one's on our side?" the same female voice asked over the radio after seeing Mobius attack the enemy flagship.
"It's possible, but we can't let our guard down. Just continue the mission," the emotionless female voice ordered.
"We've breached the hull! Boarding team, move in!" a female voice cried after the hull of the flagship was blown open.
"We can't!" a panicked voice replied. "The Vanguards are forming a wall around the hole!"
Mobius activated the microphone in his flight helmet. "I don't know who you all are, but we're working toward the same end here. You agree not to fire on me, and I'll help you out. Deal?"
"That voice," one of the female pilots said, incredulous. "Is that a man?"
A new voice, strong and commanding, answered Mobius. "We'll agree to your proposal for now. But just so you know, we're not here to make any friends."
"Really?" Mobius replied in a carefree tone. "And here I thought trying to kill someone was your way of saying hello."
Flying head-on toward the line of Vanguards protecting their flagship, Mobius switched to his special weapons reserve and fired four XMAA missiles. He immediately switched back to his regular missiles and fired two more, successfully wiping out the entire defensive line.
"Splash all targets, cleared to move in," Mobius announced before following one of his temporary allies into the flagship.
Watching the blue fighter ahead of him crash through the flagship, Mobius slowed his speed to better navigate through the tight spaces.
"I can't stop!" the pilot of the out-of-control blue fighter cried. The voice was young and panicked.
"Pilot, respond," Mobius requested after watching the blue fighter crash through the halls ahead of him. "Repeat: pilot, respond. What's your status?" Hearing his cockpit's warning alarm, Mobius looked up and immediately threw his flight stick to the left to avoid colliding with a wall.
"Damn it, there's not enough room to turn around!" Mobius yelled. "I have to try and land," he said to himself, slowing his airspeed and lowering his landing gear.
"Alright," he muttered. "Landing gear, check. Course, not like I have a choice. This will be easy."
Slowly tilting his fighter's nose downward, Mobius steered his fighter into a landing position. He pulled up slightly, allowing the back wheels to touch down first, then set the fighter back into a level position.
"Almost," Mobius murmured, waiting for his fighter to slow to a halt.
The warning alarms in his cockpit blared, signaling an emergency. Glancing over his shoulder, Mobius saw another of the strange fighters speeding toward him.
"Holy hell!" he yelled, ducking his head and covering himself just as the fighter zoomed over his F-22 and crashed through the wall ahead.
Looking up, Mobius sighed in relief when he saw no damage to his fighter. "None of them know what they're doing, I need to get away from these people."
Opening the canopy, Mobius jumped out and heard the sound of gunfire in the room where the other fighter had crashed. He drew his Beretta M9 handgun and took cover behind some debris.
"What the hell?" Mobius muttered, seeing the strange flight suits the pilots were wearing. "What kind of space suit is that?"
The two pilots were in very bulky, thick leathered flight suits with helmets that resembled steel monster faces—definitely an unusual sight.
Watching the two pilots duck out of cover, they raised their right arms toward a window and fired a single laser-like beam from their fists at a guard hiding behind the window.
"Lasers?" Mobius asked himself. "Perfect."
Spotting a lone man with what looked like an assault rifle sneaking around the two pinned-down pilots, Mobius made a quick decision to side with those who hadn't attacked him.
Once the lone soldier was close enough, Mobius bolted from his cover, grabbing the soldier's arm and pushing it upward before driving his knee into the man's stomach. As the soldier hunched over, Mobius brought the handle of his handgun down on the back of his head, knocking him out.
Taking cover next to one of the pinned pilots, Mobius greeted them. "How ya doing?" he asked, surprising the pilot.
"What?" the pilot gasped, the voice unmistakably female. "Where did you come from? Are you a man?"
"I'm the pilot who helped you get in here," Mobius replied. "And yes, I'm a man. I don't see why my gender matters right now, but I'm not going to ask questions. We're pinned down and won't be going anywhere unless we work together."
"Forget it," the pilot told him. "I'm not working with a man."
The pilot ducked out of her cover to fire her laser, but a bullet grazed her arm. She flinched, leaving herself open for another shot.
"Get down!" Mobius barked, pulling her back behind cover. "Still think you don't need my help?" he asked, his voice edged with urgency. "Listen, I really have no idea what's going on here and honestly I don't care, but whatever it is, we're just going to be sitting ducks unless we can move and move fast. If you have any allies nearby, we need to get to them before the enemy gets to our flanks and surrounds us."
The female pilot didn't respond. She remained silent, but Mobius could tell that even through her flight mask, she was sizing him up.
Mobius quickly peeked his head over their cover to check the area. "Listen!" he yelled, ducking back down just as a bullet flew by his helmet. "If you can keep them focused on this spot, I should be able to sneak around and take them out."
"Forget it. I'm not trusting my life to a man, I don't care how bad the situation is," she harshly rejected his offer.
Mobius shook his head in frustration. "What the hell did I do to deserve this?" he muttered to himself before looking back at the pilot. "Well, good luck to you then, I'm out of here."
Staying crouched, Mobius quickly made his way around the crashed fighter and to a staircase against the wall, ensuring the two hostiles in the window remained focused on the pinned-down pilots until he reached the door.
Finally reaching the door, Mobius reached for the handle but stopped, making one last look back over his shoulder. "I'm going to regret this," he said. "I'm going to regret this in a big way."
Letting go of the door handle, Mobius continued to ascend the staircase and circled around behind the two men who had the pilots pinned down. Kicking open the door, he grabbed the soldier near him and used him as a shield while he shot the second guard twice in the chest.
Once the first guard dropped to the floor, Mobius released the guard he restrained and immediately slammed the handle of his gun into the back of his head, knocking him out.
Standing at the shattered window, Mobius looked down to the pilots and yelled, "All clear, you're welcome," before turning around and exiting through a door next to him.
As he stepped through the doorway, a laser was fired, missing his helmet by a mere inch.
Mobius froze and looked at the one who had shot at him—another woman.
"Don't move," she ordered. "Drop your weapon and get in the group with the rest of them."
Mobius shook his head. "Yeah, I don't see that happening. In case you forgot, I'm the one who cleared the way for you to get in here in the first place."
"There's a good question," another female voice said to his left.
Looking to his left, Mobius watched as two more pilots removed their monster-shaped flight suits. Both of them were women. The first, the same height as Mobius, wore a revealing black dress. She had blonde hair that reached down to her waist. Despite her curves and features, Mobius immediately zeroed in on her green eyes.
The other woman was a bit shorter and wore a gray flight suit; her light blue hair was styled with spiky bangs in the front and straightened back in a fan pattern that stopped just past her ears. Again, Mobius immediately zeroed in on her eyes, which displayed a cold expression.
"So why did you help us?" the blonde-haired woman asked Mobius.
Mobius kept his eyes on the two pilots next to him. "You weren't the ones who shot at me."
The blonde woman placed her hands on her hips. "Is that so? You make it sound so simple. I'm actually surprised a man is helping us."
Just then, the two pinned-down pilots that Mobius had helped walked into the room. "Whatever his reasons are, he's still a man. I say we throw him into the escape pod with the rest and get rid of them," one of them said. Considering she was holding her left arm, it must've been the same one Mobius had saved from getting shot.
"Nice to see you too," Mobius retaliated in an aggravated tone. "You still haven't thanked me for saving your ass back there."
"I didn't ask for your help!" the woman barked.
"Barnette, that's enough," the blue-haired woman demanded. "Have Paiway look at your injury. As for you," she continued, shifting her eyes to Mobius, "get in line with the rest of them."
"I'm pretty sure I've made my position on that matter clear," Mobius said to her. "I'm not getting in that group." He paused, looking around at everyone in the room. "You ladies have a real problem with thanking someone who helped you."
"Wait, where's Dita?" the one called Barnette asked, taking off her flight suit.
A girl, just as tall as the one with blue hair, appeared. She had dark green hair and striking violet eyes. Her outfit was equally revealing, a skin-tight flight suit that only covered between her legs and up her sides and abdomen, splitting off just around her breasts.
"Wasn't she with you?" the blonde-haired one asked her.
The green-haired pilot shook her head. "Last I saw, she was crashing through the halls, screaming her head off."
"This Dita," Mobius began, catching their attention. "Does she fly that blue fighter? Bulky on the sides and flies pretty clumsily?"
"You know where she is?" the blonde-haired pilot asked, a hint of hope in her voice.
Mobius nodded slightly. "I have a pretty good idea. You agree to stop threatening me, and I'll take you to where her ship is."
"You're still offering to help us?" she asked, incredulous.
"More or less," Mobius replied. "As long as you don't attack me, I have no reason not to help you. Follow me," he instructed, walking out of the room and back to the giant hall where he had landed his F-22.
"I had to land here, around that corner down there," he pointed at the area where he had flown his fighter through. "That's the last place I saw your pilot. I tried contacting her before I landed, but I didn't get a response."
The blue-haired pilot looked over her shoulder. "Jura, let's go."
The blonde-haired pilot nodded. "Alright, I'll follow you."
"Well, I hope you find her," Mobius said. "As for me, I'm getting out of whatever this is."
"You're not going anywhere!" the blue-haired pilot snapped. "I still don't trust you, so I'm not letting you out of my sight."
Mobius felt a twinge of pain just above his left eye and grunted, placing his hand on his helmet. "Fine, but just make it quick so I can leave already."
Following the two pilots down the hall, it didn't take long for them to find the missing pilot. Watching from a balcony, they saw a young red-haired girl chasing a teenage boy over a pile of rubble, cheerfully yelling for him to wait up and stop running.
"Is that your pilot?" Mobius asked.
"You see that, Meia?" the blonde-haired one asked. "She's chasing a man."
"Jura, let's go. We don't have time," Meia said, jumping down from the walkway and running over to the red-haired girl before tackling her to the ground.
"She's quite the authority figure, isn't she?" Mobius remarked.
The blonde-haired one, Jura, looked over at him. "So why exactly are you so willing to help us? You don't seem too worried that we'll attack you as well."
"For your sake I'm hoping that won't happen, but believe me I am prepared for it," Mobius admitted. "You all seem really hostile toward men, and I don't really know why and frankly I don't care. All that matters to me is getting out of here, finding out how the hell I got into space, and then getting back to Earth… if at all possible."
"Earth?" Jura asked, puzzled. "Why would you want to go there?"
Before Mobius could answer, Meia yelled up to Jura, "Jura, we need to leave! The main section of the flagship is preparing a missile, and they're targeting us!"
"Fantastic," Mobius growled, turning around. "Good luck to you. I'm getting out of here."
Not waiting for the women to follow him, Mobius quickly ran back to his F-22 and climbed into the pilot's seat. "Alright, looks like they've all cleared out of the room ahead of me. That's good because my only way out is to blast through."
Preparing his missiles to fire at the wall ahead of him, Mobius felt a massive surge of pain in his forehead and grunted loudly, hunching over with his hands grasping at his helmet. The pain immediately grew worse, feeling like a dozen nails were being forced through his temple and wiggled around.
"Dita!" he heard a voice gasp over the radio.
"We can't wait any longer! We have to go," another voice replied urgently.
"Someone help me!" a panicked voice cried just as the pain in Mobius' head spiked and vanished.
Mobius was breathing heavily. The pain in his head was completely gone, but for some reason, he felt like he was falling. Painfully opening his eyes, he saw the three female pilots and the boy the red-haired girl was chasing. They were all falling into an endless, liquid-like blue light, the same light he saw before he crashed into the ocean.
The sensation of falling seemed to stretch on indefinitely, the light around them shifting and swirling like an ethereal ocean. Mobius struggled to comprehend what was happening, his mind racing through the possibilities. Were they being transported to another dimension? Was this some sort of advanced technology he had never encountered before?
His thoughts were interrupted by the voice of the boy, who shouted in terror, "What's happening to us? Are we going to die?"
