Farewell to the Nest
Mastema had told me to take the Nexus after I smashed the test model. 'Sure, the specs are top-notch, but...' I'd learned that power like that doesn't come cheap. It dumps an insane load on the pilot—that's the price for the strength you get. Mastema himself called it a devil that runs on the pilot's blood. If I wanted to live long, I should've steered clear of something like that.
'Not that I'd mind if that was all there was to it.' I wasn't exactly dying to stick around forever anyway. On paper, grabbing a high-spec machine like that made sense. But...
'Too much hassle...' Even setting that aside, there were petty issues. Like how it was totaled at the end of the fight, or the fact that the cockpit still had a pilot inside. Dragging a corpse out just to swap Nexuses? No thanks.
The follow-up defense squads were finally pouring into the Aleph sector. But I didn't need to tangle with all of them.
I slipped through the opening bulkhead, switched to cruise mode, and bolted. Wiped out the front-line troops as a warning, then kept running. Full-on war wasn't viable—durability was hitting limits, main weapon was gone, no reserves left. And...
The Exo Frame troops, confirming their trusted Nexus was down, had their morale visibly tank. Thanks to that, I escaped the base smoother than expected, no fierce resistance.
Thud... I heard the last surface-to-air missile explode far off and gradually slowed. Been sprinting a full minute past the outer wall.
'No radar pings either.'
Crackle— Then, noise spiked in the system.
"Ugh..."
Didn't feel like external interference. Main system overloading for some reason.
'Right after combat. Not weird.' Actuator signals piled up, hit capacity cap.
'Crashed faster than usual, though.'
Some defect from repairs? I'd pushed it hard recently.
'If it was irreparable, shouldn't they have swapped parts? ...'
I fiddled with my bandages, thinking. The ones covering my right eye completely were soaked in blood, feeling gross.
'Called themselves experts, but maybe better to let machines handle it.'
Cursing Nest's mechanics under my breath, I turned toward the mobile hangar waiting in the distance. Ties to Nest ended here.
The broker's chit-chat ended with a click.
I disconnected the neural port and slumped in the chair. Separated from the main body... the Nexus... my head went empty again. Then drugs and electric signals rushed in to fill the void, right on cue.
The analyst stared at the monitor, fingers interlocked, glasses glinting as he raised his chin high.
"......"
Rabe's record updated. Breaking six months of silence on the Hermes Network.
Rabe - Combat Data Processed
Rank Updated: #47
The Hermes Network AI crunched the battle data and slotted Rabe into the rankings.
Rank 47. Top ranks after just three jobs.
"Still alive, huh."
Skill was undeniable. Couldn't call the gap with Anon definitively. A variable.
'A true variable.'
Thought dead from the fight six months back. Scarab and the rookie merc—against those two.
'Right, the rookie.'
Rabe and that one: the only two S-rank variables. Blades to point at their enemies.
But S-ranks were too much for one, so pitted them against each other.
"Didn't expect survival."
Reportedly restarted mid-battle. Not like Rabe's first Nexus pilot swap cheat—from start to end, one pilot. Smashed, revived, smashed again. No break, downed twice.
Assumed dead. Guess you can't say lightning doesn't strike twice.
'Not even that level of issue.'
Rabe, classed under 'S-rank Variable Risk' and contained, returned as pure chaos.
Tricky.
"Can't deal with this."
The analyst threw up his hands, slumping back. Wanted to drop it all, but the world wouldn't wait.
"No wonder they classed that one S-rank—monsters, every one."
They needed 'variables' but not multiples—unpredictable, after all. Could be strongest ally or worst foe. Might cut enemies... or themselves. Holding and controlling them was playing with fire.
"Hmm..."
Schemed to make it controllable, but it waltzed back like it was nothing. Realized he'd grabbed a poisoned chalice.
'No choices left.'
Decided to drink. Sometimes you jump into the fire eyes open.
Payment: 500,000. Plus 27,000 extra for smashing the defense squad. Total 527,000.
'A fortune.'
Divided by four? Around 130k each, but math was annoying. Settled on 150k.
"Account right?"
"...Yeah."
Hermann grumbled reluctantly. Sent the funds—still plenty left. Enough for a full new weapon loadout on the Nexus.
'Named requests are the best.'
Now a ranked pilot. Jobs incoming, enough to buy every Nexus part imaginable.
'Bottom rung, but I'll climb fast.'
Mastema's words lingered, but no mood for complications now. Good was good.
Time to leave Nest.
"Hold on, Rabe."
"No contracts."
"Not that... Anything else you need? A parting gift."
"Gift...?"
Was about to wheel off, nothing needed as usual. Then: Fallen Angel. New weapon block. Mastema. Dream. Clouds. Sky.
Dream. Dream. Ideal. Human.
"...Maybe."
Some thought chain—didn't track it—but a black paper image popped up. Unlike other books. Densely packed print.
"Library okay?"
"Library? First time in ages."
Hermann shrugged, gave the okay.
In the library, I groped shelves by smell and memory. Hermann helped.
"What're you after? Can't read anyway."
"...A book. And..."
Described it. He puzzled, then pulled a thick one nearby.
"Heavy. Careful."
"Yeah..."
Thudded on my thighs, sinking in. Smooth cover under fingers. Just like memory. Huge, cool...
'Space.'
"This it."
"Good... Glad you wanted something."
Book packed last into the mobile hangar. Before mounting up, glanced back at Hermann from the pad.
White-coated doctor beside him.
'My doc.'
Months here, still no name. Bad with names—would forget anyway, so never asked.
"Bye."
"I'll wait."
"Come back if trouble."
Their words flew from memory quick.
Rumble—
Mobile hangar lifted off moments later. I didn't look down.