Saa'be

fall

There is a grunt from the Gunner, her voice questioning only to ask for clarification. She knows the importance of their mission but will listen to her commanding officer. "Repeat sir."

"Abort," the Captain says as the Pilot looks at him with something approaching hate. "You too," he says to the Pilot.

Her eyes flit from what lies ahead to what lies inside the cockpit, ferocious angry lining her face. Her chin is edging up defiantly, her hand on the controls not moving, keeping them on their course.

To the Recruit's shock, the Captain pulls a pistol on the Pilot. "Turn this ship around, or I will fire." The Recruit finds that his hands are on his seat straps, but he is unsure what he could achieve by getting in between the Captain and the Pilot.

The Pilot fastens her hands firmly on the ship controls and stares ahead, still piloting the craft towards the Conglomerate dreadnaught, low in atmospheric orbit across the verdant, grassy plains. Her jaw is tight and her fingers bloodless on the lever rig, boots firmly planted on the metal floor of the cockpit.

The Mechanic bursts into the cockpit at this point, face smeared with grease and debris. The scene that greets him is nothing he could have expected. He stills as the Captain's finger pushes back the safety on his pistol. The Mechanic's eyes flit between the Captain and the Pilot, calculating and preparing to make a move.

"Last warning," the Captain tells the Pilot, a rivulet of sweat trickling down into his beard. "I will shoot you." The Mechanic's eyes travel to the Pilot, sees the sneer that hides behind her eyes, knows she would never back down, not with the blood that runs through her veins.

The Recruit watches the Pilot stare stoically ahead.

A flash of light, a sharp intake of breath.

The Mechanic disarms the Captain as the Pilot grits her teeth in agony. The Recruit can see a slash of burned and bloody skin on the back of one of the Pilot's hands, which she cradles to her chest, the fingers now useless. The craft bucks as the Pilot braces her elbow and good hand on the controls to stay airborne. The Mechanic pushes the Captain away from the Pilot, confusion and rage mixed on his face. The Captain swings wildly at the Mechanic, a desperate kind of fury on his face.

The Pilot grunts a wordless admission of pain and the Recruit no longer hesitates, unstrapping and going to her side, unsure how to help.

"I said to abort!" The Captain yells and pulls out a wicked, serrated knife. He slashes at the Mechanic, who backs away in shock. The Recruit is in the way now, in between the Pilot and the Captain, his eyes rounding in fear when he sees the manic look on the Captain's face. The Pilot shooves the Recruit out the way with her leg as the Captain swings towards her, taking the Recruit to the ground from behind his knees.

The Recruit rolls on the floor and looks up as the Captain's bulk and shadow fall over the Pilot.

"You coward," she spits as the knife flashes downwards.

A magma flare from a Conglomerate mecha-walker slams into the hull of their craft and takes one of their engines with it.

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The next moments are an eternity.

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The Captain is thrown backwards, the tip of his knife grazing the Pilot's cheek. His neck whiplashes as he slams into the cockpit wall and he slumps to the floor.

The Pilot throws her entire body into her lever rig to try to control their descent, a wordless crying grunt of effort coming out of her.

The Recruit and the Mechanic strap themselves down at the Pilot's command. The remaining pieces of the windscreen shatter and they cover vital arteries with hands to protect themselves. The ship roils under them, the air now a menacing abyss below them.

The Gunner manages to get to the storage hold and wedge herself between pallets of cargo before the gunport shears away from the craft entirely, the metal gouging a gaping furrow in the plains below.

The Pilot pulls the throttle level all the way back, flips the switches to open the venting flaps and kicks away the metal framework of the viewport that obscures her vision. Warbeasts, mecha-walkers, allies' craft streak by in a kaleidoscope of war, the wind whistling through the cockpit, tearing the breath from the Recruit's lips as a scream rises unbidden in his chest.

They all feel the moment when the landing gear rips away and the aft of the craft ignites. The shudder reverberates to their marrow.

"Brace!" The Pilot screams, her voice lost in the maelstrom of shrieking, separating metal as the plains below advance on them exponentially fast. She wrestles to bring the craft's nose up, blood slicking her hand and wrist, silicon windscreen shards embedded in her thighs, a thicket of minor injuries.

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The plains rush upwards and the Recruit squeezes his eyes shut.

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The crash is a fragmented series of images, senses.

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Loamy earth spraying up as the nose digs in.

Fire and sparks from the dangling wires lighting fearful faces.

The Gunner's head meeting the edge of a crate, concussing her.

The Captain's body reversing out of the cockpit, a limp puppet.

The cacophony of twisting electronics.

A lack of gravity before impact, a sweet spot of air that causes the Recruit to open his eyes, hopeful for an afterlife.

A moan-scream of pain.

Smelling burning, the earthy flavor of a magma beam discharge.

The Mechanic's eyes fastened on the Pilot, whose face is a snarl dotted with bruises as she struggles to keep them all alive.

And then....