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He who turns his back on his Nation, so turns his back on his God. And terror and calamity will find them, for they did not remember the fear of the LORD. A curse of a thousand heartbreaks will fall upon those who deny their LORD and Savior, the King of Kings, ruler of the Vault of Heaven.

Reverend Serrat Haywire, at the execution of four communist rebels, UCF 267

Hangar 16, UCFS Rumsfeld, low-earth orbit, UCF 05/01/454, 2208 hours

Preparations are complete. Bags are packed. Flechette doesn’t yet know where she’s going — just coordinates, an encrypted commslink connection, and no contact yet with this Ka Zhengming. But she cannot stay here. And so, one more time, Flechette Jaydamn reaches for faith.

She prays.

To whom, she does not know. Not “God.” Not the God of this nation, this world, these people. Maybe nobody. Maybe to humanity. Maybe to Tang.

Please guide me.

Flechette Jaydamn strides innocently towards Hangar 16, for the last time.

“Hey, VENUS.”

Flechette reaches out to the war machine’s ceramic hull, as if caressing an old friend. In response, the VENUS lights up, and opens her entry plug, waiting for her pilot.

Flechette begins walking down the catwalk, towards the cockpit, when she hears a gentle click behind her head.

“Don’t move.” The deep voice is unmistakable. Seraph.

“3^rd Virtue Meniss.”

“I know why you’re here.”

“I’m—”

“Don’t give me excuses. I’ve seen everything. Just turn around.”

Flechette’s blood chills. I’ve seen everything. Flechette turns to face Seraph, slowly.

“Flechette Jaydamn, you are under arrest for the theft of an ARC THRONE Mech, for destroying evidence in an ongoing IWD case, for impersonating an officer, and for desertion.”

“Seraph, I’m— I’m not deserting, I’m just—”

“You are going to tell me that you are going on an unsanctioned, unapproved, undocumented reconnaissance mission behind enemy lines. That wouldn’t be better, even if it were true.”

“Seraph? How did you—”

“He’s a bug, soldier.”

“What?”

“The proprioceptopath that we gave you. He’s a bug. He’s got an implant that lets us see anything he sees and hear anything he hears. We’ve seen everything and heard everything. Yes, even that. You think after that stunt you pulled with the VENUS on New Year’s, we’d let you run around unmonitored? High Command has you on a tighter leash than the VENUS itself.” 

Flechette’s eyes flick backwards towards the VENUS.

“We’ve been watching you this whole time. Your little video diary sessions, your playtime with your trainee. Your revolutionary syllabus course.”

Flechette is stunned. Trinity…

“Seraph. Just let me go. I’m grateful for everything you’ve done for me. But what we’re doing is wrong.” It’s the first time she’s been able to admit the words, and here they come spilling, at gunpoint.

At this, Seraph laughs, disbelieving.

“You’re grateful? You’re grateful. You have no idea the meaning of that word. You have no idea what anything means. You’re just a stupid little bitch who wanted to play dress-up as a soldier, and now you want to play dress-up as a revolutionary. Do you know how much I fought for you? How much I advocated for you? Flechette, we believed in you. I believed in you. You were supposed to be the best of us. The best! Look at you now! Slinking away in the middle of the night, trying to do the exact thing you killed your cross for! Yeah, I guess that one was easy for you to forget, huh?” Flechette winces.

“Yeah, you killed Tanglewire Sidewinder for what you’re doing right now. This is what you are. You’re a hypocrite, and you’re a traitor. And you have no understanding of loyalty.”

“You betrayed us. You betrayed me. You betrayed your squadron. You betrayed your little academy heartthrob — you sick bastard, sleeping with your own student — and most of all. You betrayed your cross. You are unforgivable. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Flechette backs towards the edge of the catwalk, away from the gun, towards the immense drop.

“I’m taking a leap of faith.”

She leans back, and allows herself to fall off the catwalk. Time immediately slows to a crawl.

Seraph shouts, fires his gun, the bullet inching closer, right past her face, barely grazing her cheek. The immense mass of the VENUS moves to catch her, cockpit open directly below her, like an open mouth.

Flechette closes her eyes. She’s swallowed up by the entry plug. The cockpit slams closed, and the BIRTH OF VENUS careens down the launch tube.

Time rubber-bands back to normal. Flechette gasps, as she slams into the seat of the cockpit. She groans and rubs her neck.

“Thanks VENUS…”

The cockpit lights flicker, as if to say, you’re welcome.

Flechette settles into her most familiar shape — hand resting on the VENUS’ throttle, at one with her machine. She prepares for reentry.

Suddenly, a blast knocks her off her course trajectory. On her scanners, Flechette can detect the HEAVENSPEAR speeding towards her. She whips the VENUS around and draws her blade just fast enough to catch the edge against the HEAVENSPEAR’s own.

The commsline winks on.

“I’m not letting you get away, Edge. Return the VENUS and surrender. Nobody has to die today. Not this time.”

“You’re right, Seraph,” Flechette responds, groaning with strain as she holds the blade at bay. “Nobody has to die today.”

“You think you’re doing the right thing? That you’re saving the world? Do you understand what the UCF does? Yes, we kill people. Yes, innocents get caught up in the crossfire. That’s the price. It’s the cost. Order isn’t free, Flechette. It needs something to fuel it. The UCF maintains order. That’s the sacrifice we make, Flechette. That’s the job description! We have to be the bad guys. So the world doesn’t eat itself alive.”

Flechette whirls the VENUS around, swinging for the HEAVENSPEAR’s arms. Once again, the bite of edge-on-edge.

“That’s not true! The world… The world needs to change, Seraph. It needs to.” The VENUS kicks, hard. The HEAVENSPEAR blocks with an arm. Pieces of ceramic armor splinter off and careen through low-earth orbit.

“The world can’t change, Flechette! Open your eyes! This is the way the world has been for hundreds of years! This is how things are! You can’t change it! The nations of the world could not change it! How could you, an insignificant single pilot, hope to change the world order?”

“I—” Flechette grunts, going in for another swing. It clangs off Seraph’s sword once more. “—Don’t. I just don’t want to be on the side that lets children be eaten as fuel.”

“Ha! Good luck. Go see what your PRA friends think of that. Tell me when you get back.”

It’s obvious to Flechette that she can’t win this fight. Not alone. Seraph is too good of a pilot, knows her habits too well. She needs help.

VENUS… She thinks into the psychoscape. Inviting her in.

Flechette Jaydamn doesn’t evacuate her body. But the VENUS is given the co-pilot’s seat.

The VENUS’ HUD flares brightly.

The VENUS swings a supersonic punch at the HEAVENSPEAR. Seraph catches it in the HEAVENSPEAR's hand.

The VENUS closes its jaws around myofibrillium muscle, crushing ceramic plating under its teeth. The HEAVENSPEAR roars.

Moments pass. The VENUS growls, the HEAVENSPEAR’s left arm clenched in her jaw. Seraph falls back, in shock, the HEAVENSPEAR clutching the stump of its arm, hemosynthate pouring out.

Flechette reenters the cockpit. Thanks, VENUS. That’s enough. This fight is over.

Flechette reopens the commsline. Seraph is panting and groaning on the other end, his sync rate making him feel the HEAVENSPEAR’s pain.

“I’m sorry, Seraph. I hope… I hope I can see you again someday.”

She turns her back and begins to prepare for reentry.

Seraph is seething, enraged and betrayed. He screams over the commsline, and rushes forward, spear aimed at the back of the cockpit.

Flechette’s eyes roll back, giving control. The VENUS takes over — just for a moment — to whip around, stopping the spear with its hands — and rips the entry plug out of the HEAVENSPEAR.

The line goes dead. Flechette flies off, as the entry plug — and Seraph — float in empty space, alone.

Flechette activates the encrypted commslink connection. The connection to Tang's contact in the PLAA. To the enemy. It blinks for a few moments. Listening, searching for a connection signal.

The connection goes through. The commsline is live.

“Who are you?”