Pilot Story by Alvin Anderson #567846

He sits upon the head of his Skriag named Alphonse.  The black uniform nearly matching in color to Alphonse, the spade and fire crest on his sleeve matching the faded one painted in the armor just below where he sat. It was an old crest no longer used by many, the old Deaths Disciples, a faction of the AFF, crest long since fallen out of use.

The fire and smoke from the battle field reaches up to the man’s perch. The smell fills his nostrils as the sounds of his men below drinking into the evening light assault his ears like a Triple Barrel firing off next to him. Despite the distractions his thoughts are still on the field and the past.

Thinking back on a clan war long ago; a field of battle not unlike the one before him now. It was a bloody battle, all sides hammering on each other with no remorse. One of his opponents in that war outmaneuvered him into a corner his battalion could not get out of, yet they only disabled his Mecha. He can still remember her when she stepped out of her Mecha, her blond hair flowing in the wind like a field of wheat in the morning breeze. Her blue eyes like the seas of old earth he had only seen in pictures. It was love at first sight. His heart jumped from his chest as did hers and they left the battles behind them.

It wasn’t much, a small farm, just enough to live. A place to raise a family, and call home. They didn’t have much but they had each other and it was enough. That is until the galaxy found them again and the wars found the small slice of peace they had found. A King of the Mountain Tournament, a miss placed shot with an Ursa Strike and it was all over. She was gone and all he had with her was nothing but dust. On a quiet plot of land in the middle of nowhere he buried the love of his life and his heart with her.

He came back to the world, but not empty handed. A parting gift left in a hangar for him. His Wife’s Mecha, a Skriag named Alphonse. Most of his men where dead so he found a new battalion made up of a strange order of religious lunatics that worshiped strange gods from a long bygone era.

All these thoughts flood his mind as he looks out over the field; the Faction War is over now. He wonders who lost a husband, a father, a mother, a wife or a daughter in these battles. He must complete his mission and these thoughts do him no good. He will bring death and destruction from one end of the galaxy to the next until he finds the clan responsible, the corporation that sponsored them, and obliterates them completely.

He climbs down Alphonse and joins his men in the celebration with but one fleeting thought, “I was out”.


Submitted by Alvin Anderson #567846