“Told you” were the first words Kieran heard from Ildar’s mouth when he came over the next day. The updated pilot folder was with him - no other changes than Raptor swapped to Interceptor - and for a moment Kieran considered just tossing the folder at Ildar’s smug face.
“You did,” he replied calmly instead and handed the folder to Ildar for checking. “Congratulations. If you need any kind of updates or upgrades that Interceptor can accommodate, let me know and I will see that they are arranged. However, the leniency comes with a price: both of you are expected to log in weekly mandatory flight hours on Raptor.”
Zoya was sitting at the desk as they spoke, eyes keenly flicking between a tablet by her wrist and the screen of a laptop. She hadn’t reacted to Kieran entering nor had she reacted to him talking, but the way her fingers stopped typing and she glanced up to Ildar expressed that she had been listening.
“Why?” Ildar asked and stopped flicking through the folder and looked up, brows furrowing in anger.
“Because Interceptor is an old model, and may not always have all the parts readily available,” Kieran explained with a forcedly even tone. “The two of you are extremely promising pilots, and we would like to keep your active hours at maximum. If Interceptor ever needs additional maintenance, we want you to be able to pilot another model without being a hazard to others around you.”
“We won’t get our mecha broken on the field,” Ildar argued and leaned forward.
“And I happen to know, as an operator, that every mecha has parts that wear down over age. Even if you manage to avoid ever getting hit, eventually something’s gotta give.” Kieran folded his arms and fixed a stern gaze and a smile at Ildar.
From the very first day, it had been apparent that these two were very accustomed to operating without rules. When it came to behaviour, this was just basic training, and Kieran had the unfortunate responsibility of being their teacher.
Today, it felt more like being a babysitter.
Zoya straightened her back and closed her laptop and her tablet, before pushing up from the chair. There was no hostility about her, but neither did she seem to particularly care about the conversation.
“I’m going to see Interceptor,” she said, but Kieran raised his hand to stop her.
“Just a moment, so that we are all on the same page, here. Consider this precaution a kinder version of ‘because I’m ordering you to’. As long as Interceptor is good to go, you will be allowed to pilot it - but you will also log additional hours with Raptor. Are we clear?”
The frustration on Ildar’s face tided over and melded into a resignation. Zoya stared at Kieran, shoulders slightly hunched and expression blank, before providing the smallest of nods.
“If that was all, I’m needed at the medical,” Ildar sighed and slapped the folder shut, handing it back to Kieran. “They wanted to run health checks for both of us.” Kieran opened his mouth to reply, but Ildar didn’t pause to wait. Zoya watched him go and then turned to Kieran.
“Was that all?” It wasn’t just the lighting. Zoya’s hair did have a green tint to it.
“On the official business, at least,” Kieran admitted and tried to adjust a lighter smile on his face. “I know we got off on a bit of a rough start, but now that all the paperwork has been handled, I was thinking that perhaps I could get the two of you a bit more accustomed with how things work around here.”
Which was a nice way of saying “teaching you there are rules”.
Zoya’s body language was blurred in confusion. She pursed her lips and looked down, then over her shoulders, then at Kieran. Another moment passed before she spoke up.
“You could come with me,” she suggested with a notable lack of enthusiasm, “to see Interceptor.” Hanging out at hangar did sound like more fun than Kieran had expected to be having with Zoya, so a moment later they found themselves in the corridor. Zoya’s rigid shoulders relaxed as they walked.
“You seem to love your mecha more than you love people.” Kieran had intended the line as a joking small talk, but it became immediately clear to him that Zoya did not take it as such.
“I do,” she replied without an ounce of sarcasm. Silence fell. Kieran ran his fingers through his hair and tried to think of something to say.
“Lonan, your brother,” Zoya spoke instead, “you mentioned he is an analyst, too. Has he participated in Interceptor’s diagnostics?” Kieran thought back to how Lonan had suddenly appeared, and how Zoya had stared at him. Stunned. Shocked that another person had entered the conversation.
“No, not really,” Kieran replied and tried to parse Zoya’s expression. “As it’s come up several times by now, we haven’t had that model in the base for years. If you’d like, I can put you in touch with Caspian - he’s the analyst who ran the diagnostics on both times.”
It hadn’t been the answer Zoya wanted, visibly, but they had arrived at the hangar and made their way through the corridors past the personnel and parts. Zoya took the lead as soon as they could see Interceptor’s silhouette from behind the maintenance ladders.
It was in much better shape than during its arrival; the thick layer of rust, dirt and grit was removed, dents were fixed, joints oiled.
It looked as good as it could.
In Kieran’s eyes, it looked old and fragile. A single glance around him revealed other models in the hangar, visibly built for better performance and endurance.
Kieran had been piloting Raptor, once upon a time. It was a good model, flexible and very intuitive, more so than Phantom or Dragon. He had wanted to pilot it for the same specific reasons Zoya and Ildar wanted to pilot Interceptor.
Because it let me do what I wanted, for better and for worse.
But, unlike Interceptor, Raptor was still widely in use. Nowadays it didn’t seem to be anyone’s first pick - the computer-assistance for minor movements had gotten a lot better with newer models - but it was still used. It wasn’t junk.
Zoya brought her hand appreciatively to the newly-polished metal leg of the mecha. Her eyes lit up, as if she was seeing something different. Kieran turned idly to look over his shoulder when there was a sound of a lift behind them, on an empty space where the mechanics were currently gathering. He saw Lonan in the crowd yelling instructions to the engineer floor down below, as the empty spot was filled with a mecha emerging from underneath.
It was the first time Kieran saw Phoenix.
Phoenix was as tall as Tiger, but nowhere nearly as robust. Kieran allowed his eyes to rest on the exhaust vents, imagining the multi-dimensional mobility. Equipment-wise it seemed stripped bare, but it wasn’t unheard of; full weapon and equipment maintenance was done separately from the main unit.
“Who pilots that one?” Phoenix had caught Zoya’s attention as well. Kieran turned slightly towards her to be able to keep his eyes on the sleek design.
“Nobody yet. That’s Phoenix,” he explained, “it’s the most amazing thing ever made, or so they say. As soon as they are done with the initial setup, they will start deciding who gets to take her out for a spin of closing rifts.”
Zoya looked at Kieran curiously, but her eyes quickly drifted back to Phoenix. If it hadn’t been a mecha she was eyeing, Kieran would have assumed her looks to be affectionate rather than curious.
“I would not mind piloting her,” she said with a half-vocal tone that could have been just talking aloud.
“I would not mind operating for her,” Kieran admitted. Zoya’s eyes drifted momentarily on Lonan, before she turned back to Interceptor with a more complex expression than before. When it seemed like she was more preoccupied staring at the mecha than starting a conversation, Kieran decided to make another socialising attempt.
“So how did you get recruited in the first place? You kind of appeared out of nowhere.”
“The slums,” she replied. A long silence passed before she elaborated further. “There were… some soldiers there, one day. They saw us defending the place. They said that they could have more use for us… here. At the base.” Kieran paid attention to something sharp lingering underneath the tone, something that seemed to fend off the ‘military’ from anything she said.
“And that’s good, right? A chance for a new life, regular pay, better gear,” Kieran listed. She nodded with a thoughtful sound. For a moment, nothing happened, and Kieran busied himself with watching the mechanics climbing over Phoenix like small insects.
“Why are you so insistent on us getting a new mecha? Interceptor works just fine.” Zoya turned towards him abruptly. “The other models don’t let me do what I want.”
“Because it’s my job to keep the two of you alive,” Kieran laughed, surprised. “It’s a miracle Interceptor works at all, let alone fine.” Zoya wrapped her fingers around her dog tags and tugged at them nervously, the chain taut against her neck.
“The sensors aren’t that old,” she said defensively. Kieran raised his hands in reconciliation - this was supposed to be getting along, not more arguing.
“You guys gave me results, I gave you your piece of junk back,” he replied and didn’t bother to keep the bite out of his tone. “Just so that you know there is a chance to upgrade.”
“Ildar wouldn’t mind,” Zoya said tensely, her eyebrows furrowing in annoyance. “But I would. I need Interceptor.”
“You need it now,” Kieran corrected her, despite the way her expression turned even more severe. “But that might not always be the case. Didn’t you just say you wouldn’t mind taking Phoenix out for a spin?”
To her credit, she did turn thoughtful at his words and seemed to give them some consideration. That Phoenix was right there, brand new and shiny, full of promises and undiscovered potential, probably helped a lot.
She still didn’t look like she considered Phoenix an option she would ever need.
Kieran hadn’t thought he would need other options than piloting, either, but here he was. An operator to a Shut-inside-her-mind and Knows-better-than-you.
“I do think I can understand how you feel,” he said.
“I’m not expecting you to,” Zoya replied, and her expression was an indication she didn’t think Kieran did understand. Perhaps he didn’t.
But this was his job.
“Look, I didn’t mean to be an ass to you. I’m just trying to do my job. We’re all trying to work towards the same goal, yeah? You two are my first permanent assignment as pilots, so I want to make this work.”
Kieran felt exhausted. If everything about these two would be this high maintenance, this operator assignment wouldn’t be the easiest.
And yet…
Seeing Phoenix right there, right after seeing the data of what it could do. Knowing what it was supposedly capable of.
Kieran had assumed Nova and Liam would be assigned to Phoenix, because - who else? But then Liam had gotten into the accident, Nova had effectively given the boot to his operator, and nobody else was even close.
Nobody, except the Shut-in and her brother.
“You’re our first, too,” she suddenly spoke up, not looking away from Interceptor. “Operator, I mean. We’re used to working with just the two of us.”
“So the initial data said,” Kieran replied ceremoniously, happy about the interaction of the conversation. “So we’re both getting used to the ropes here, right? Let’s try our best to get along. Have you done basic training?” He kept his eyes on her as she took her sweet time replying. Her frame was pretty flimsy, but the way she moved informed him she was probably at least a bit stronger than she looked like. Her expression turned a bit awkward.
"Yes," she finally replied, with slight hesitation, "there are certain requirements for soldiers that get recruited to the military bases.”
“Well, if you ever need help with training, or a sparring partner, let me know,” Kieran offered both the words and his hand towards her. “I used to be a pilot, so I’m pretty familiar with the requirements.”
Zoya stared at the hand for a long while before slowly shaking it.
“They didn’t tell us that,” she said and looked at Kieran with newly found curiosity. “That you used to pilot, I mean. Was that with your brother - Lonan?” Kieran made sure his smile didn’t fade as he withdrew his hand and turned back to look at Phoenix. Lonan was there, still shouting instructions and taking notes on his laptop.
On Phoenix’s visor, a wrench in hand, Kieran could see another familiar face. A woman, dark skin, cropped black hair. He couldn’t see it all the way here, but he knew there were two beauty spots under her eye.
“With him, yes. And after that, with another pilot.” He made sure to keep his tone conversational and his words brief. Zoya seemed to pick up quickly on unwillingness to talk about the topic, and so they settled on silence.
After they had gawked at the mechanical marvels long enough - Zoya at Interceptor and Kieran at Phoenix - Kieran excused himself while Zoya returned to her room.
She and Ildar had been offered separate rooms, but both had insisted on wanting to stay together. Ildar had claimed it would ‘save time if something happened’ - on which Kieran did not disagree. It still struck him as nostalgic how the two of them seemed to be joined at the hip. Nostalgic and weird, but the kind of weird he could relate to.
Lonan had always followed him around before the incident. Would still have, if Kieran hadn’t been actively avoiding him. They had drifted apart, Hannah and Lonan and him, and he had done nothing to stop it. He wasn’t sure if he could still act as an operator if that distance had been taken from him. With Lonan as an analyst and Hannah as a part of maintenance, Kieran could still work as an operator without losing himself.
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