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“You’re here,” she replies innocently.
“You’re supposed to be on the Shout of Mykos.”
“This isn’t the Mykos?” She bites her lip. “Well, I suppose I got lost. I’ll just follow you around so that doesn’t happen again. Prime?”
“Sevro sent you. Didn’t he?”
“His heart’s a black little thing. But it can break. I’m here to make sure it doesn’t by keeping you nice and cozy. Oh, and I want to say hello to Roque.”
“What about your sister?” I ask.
“Roque first. Then her.” She elbows me. “I can be a team player too.”
Grinning, I turn back to the pit. “Virga, give me a helmet patch to the Howlers.”
“Aye, sir.”
The com in my ear crackles. I activate my armor’s helmet. The transparent heads up display shows me the tags on my crew, ranks, names, everything that’s logged into the central ship register. I activate the com holo function and a semi-translucent collage of my friends’ faces appear over the sight of my ship’s bridge. “?’Sup boss?” Sevro asks, his face is painted Red with warpaint but bathed in blue light from his mech’s HUD display. “Need a goodbye kiss or something?”
“Just checking to make sure you’re all tucked in.”
“Your kin could’ve carved us a bigger nook,” Sevro mutters. “It’s foot to face to fartbox in here.”
“So you’re saying Tactus would’ve liked it?” Victra asks. She’s patched into the panel so I hear her voice in link.
I laugh. “What didn’t he like?”
“Clothing, predominantly,” Mustang replies from her own bridge. She wears her battle armor as well. Pure Gold with a red lion roaring on her chest.
“And sobriety,” Victra adds.
“This moon smells like royal shit,” Clown mumbles from his own starShell mech. “Worse than a dead horse.”
“You’re in a mech in vacuum,” Holiday drawls. I hear the clang and shouts of the people behind her in the hangar bay of my ship. She wears a huge blue handprint on her face. Given to her by one of her Obsidians. “It’s likely not the moon.”
“Oh. Then it must be me,” Clown says. He sniffs. “Oh, ho. It’s me.”
“I told you to shower,” Pebble mutters.
“Howler Rule 17. Only Pixies shower before battle,” Sevro says. “I like my soldiers savage, stinky, and sexy. I’m proud of you, Clown.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Threka! Put your safety on,” Holiday shouts. “Now! Sorry. Bloodydamn Obsidians walking around with their fingers on the bloodydamn triggers. Shit is terrifying.”
“Why do we laugh and speak like children?” Sefi booms over the com, so loud my eardrums rattle.
“Bloodyshit in a handbasket,” Sevro yelps. There’s a chorus of curses at Sefi’s volume.
“Turn down your output volume!” Clown snaps at the queen.
“I do not understand….”
“Your output…”
“What is output…?”
“?‘The Quiet’ is a bit of a misnomer, eh?” Victra asks. Mustang snorts a laugh.
