Mech Online: Echoes of Steel 1 (Litrpg)

Chapter 13: Echoes of Steel

The air was thick with the scent of oil and sweat as Jack flopped onto a makeshift bench, his chest heaving from exertion. The underground base, a labyrinth of metal and concrete, hummed with the electricity of victory, another mission accomplished, another blow to the alien invaders. Around him, the rest of the ragtag team discarded their gear with clanks and thuds, each noise a symphony to survival.
"Hey, Felix," Jack chuckled, tossing a grimy towel to the wiry tech specialist, "you think you could hack us an alien spa next time? A little post-battle massage?"
Felix caught the towel with a snort, wiping the grime off his glasses. "Sure, and maybe I'll program the bots to serve cocktails too," he shot back, pushing up his spectacles with a smudge-free finger.
Laughter echoed through the base, bouncing off the walls like the rounds they'd narrowly dodged hours before. But amid the camaraderie, one figure stood apart, her silhouette sharpened by the harsh strip lighting above. Zara, leaning against a support beam, gazed into the distance, her eyes reflecting scenes only she could see.
"Earth to Zara!" Jack called out, his voice slicing through the chuckles and banter. The engineer didn't flinch, her red hair a curtain shielding her expression.
Jack pushed himself up, feeling his muscles protest, and sauntered over to where Zara stood. She was usually the first to dive into the nuts and bolts of their victory, figuratively and literally, analyzing every move, every decision. It was unlike her to miss the post-mission debrief, even the informal one, filled with jokes and jibes.
"Hey, Red," he said softly, using his nickname for her, "you've got that look again. The same one when you're about to tell me I've screwed up the wiring on my mech's photon blaster. What's up? I know we didn't see the Kraxorian Warrior but maybe next time."
Zara blinked slowly, turning her head to meet Jack's gaze. There was a moment, brief as a spark in her welder, where her facade cracked, revealing the undercurrent of something deeper, something not entirely related to their mechanical battles.
"Is it the mechs?" Jack prodded with a half-smile, trying to keep the mood light. "Because if you say I have to switch to the Mark V suit, I might just start believing those aliens are here to save us from fashion disasters."
Her lips twitched, the ghost of a smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. Jack's own smile faded, replaced by concern. He knew Zara was tough, tougher than carbon-titanium alloy, but everyone had their breaking point even the fiercest of engineers with hands that could bend steel and a mind that could break codes.
"Come on," he nudged gently, "spill the circuitry. We've all got our share of dents and scratches. No judgment here."
Zara's gaze held his for a heartbeat longer before she looked away, the shadows of memory flickering across her face. Jack waited, patient as the AI that guided his mech, knowing that whatever haunted Zara's thoughts, it was a battle of its own kind. And he was ready to stand by her side, as unyielding as the armor that protected them both.
Zara's fingers drummed an uneven rhythm against the metal table, a tell that she was elsewhere in her mind. She exhaled sharply as if to purge the weight of unspoken truths. Jack leaned forward, elbows on knees, his posture the epitome of the ready listener.
"Okay," she began, her voice threading through the stillness of the base, "it's not about the mechs."
A collective breath seemed to be held within the room, the familiar hum of generators and distant clanks of machinery providing a mechanical chorus to her confession.
"Back when the sky wasn't full of enemy ships... I had a family," Zara said, the words carving out a space in the silence. "Mom, dad, little sister Mia. We were a quintessential unit in a pre-invasion suburbia."
Her hands stopped their rhythmic dance, curling into fists. "The day they arrived, everything we knew just ended. They were at home; I was at the university lab." A bitter laugh escaped her, devoid of humor. "Guess it was my knack for tech that saved me."
Around her, the group shifted, their battle-hardened faces softening. There was Kai, the ultimate soldier, his eyes narrowing not with suspicion, but with a resonance that spoke of similar scars. Dr. Evelyn Hayes, whose medical expertise had patched more than flesh wounds, nodded with a healer's grace, her empathy palpable.
"Never saw it coming," Zara pushed on, her narrative picking up speed like a mech hitting its stride. "One moment we're planning Mia's tenth birthday, discussing whether unicorns or robots would win in a fight."
"Unicorns, every time," interjected Ramirez, the squad's scout, a quirk of his lips betraying the attempt to lighten the mood.
"Damn straight," Zara agreed, a flash of genuine amusement crossing her features before the somber veil returned. "Next, the world's on fire, and I'm pulling people from rubble instead of blowing out candles."
"Alien bastards didn't stand a chance once you put your wrench to work," Jack added, a sliver of pride cutting through the gloom.
"Still don't," she affirmed, steel lacing her tone now. Her grief was there, a tangible thing, yet so was something fiercer.
"Your family," Jack ventured, careful not to overstep, "they'd be proud of you. Of how many you've saved with your skills."
"Thanks, Jack," Zara replied, her voice steadier as she met his gaze, finding an anchor in the camaraderie around her. "But this isn't just my fight, is it? We all have ghosts. I just want to make sure no one else has to meet theirs too soon."
"Then we fight together," said Dr. Evelyn Hayes, her hand reaching out to rest briefly on Zara's shoulder, a simple touch, but laden with solidarity.
"United by loss, bound by purpose," Kai chimed in, the soldier's mantra fitting as snugly as a magazine in its slot.
"Exactly," Zara concluded, standing tall, the red-headed engineer who could bend steel with her bare hands now looking every bit the leader forged in tragedy. "We'll make those aliens regret they ever set tentacles on our turf."
Laughter and murmurs of agreement filled the underground base, the atmosphere charged not with despair, but with a shared determination to honor those lost by living fiercely, fighting back harder.