Genetic monstrosities and behemoth mecha-walkers advance on the light aircraft with its five crew members.
The Pilot swears colorfully as a blast from a mecha-walker shatters one of the cockpit windows, spraying herself and the crew with silicon-plated plastic. The craft wings past the walker, skimming the hulking metal mass in a tight maneuver.
In the aft of the craft, the Gunner depresses the artillery releases and ionic charges erupt. The mecha-walkers burst into flame, tilting on unbalanced legs from the velocity of the blast. Her eyes sweep about the viewport in front of her, cataloging other potential threats.
"Low on ammo," The Captain mutters over the Pilot's shoulder. His stern, craggy face looks out the forward viewport as their forces fall in waves beneath them. Screams of the dying break over the comm frequencies cut short as the other ships explode around doomed crews. The air is awash with the heat of burning debris and the adrenaline wafting over the Pilot as she jinks the ship side to side is palpable.
The Recruit winces from his seat behind the Pilot, the screams a chorus of agony unlike anything he has ever heard before. The straps holding him in the cabin seat dig into his chest and hips as their ship accelerates and decelerates under the Pilot's clean control.
"How are we doing on that thruster repair?" The Captain barks over the staticky internal comm line. Their engine and ship screech in unison in the background of the communication, the Captain grabbing the ceiling handles for support. "We can't take another hard hit or the engine could fail."
The Recruit tries not to cry out as the Pilot abruptly ascends, throwing the Captain backwards, arm jerking on the handle. The blur of a warbeast swims past the viewport of the cockpit, a mass of scarred flesh and teeth, slave warriors on its back. The Gunner fires again and there is an animalistic roar behind them from the throat of the manufactured beast.
There is a moment of quiet in the cockpit while the Captain makes his decision.
"We have to abort," he says solemnly, and the Pilot turns sharply, her fierce gaze on him. Their eyes lock and the Recruit sees the Pilot's fury meet the Captain's cowardice with a shuddering force.
"Without our ship, our infiltration crews have no hope of stopping the Conglomerate invasion," the Pilot tells him harshly. "You know this." Her eyes are furious beacons in her face, a sense of duty burning brightly there.
The Captain meets her eyes, a machismo fluttering in response, angry she dares to subvert his will, no matter who she is. He knows what she is but he does not care. He will not continue this suicide mission based on her words alone.
"Our resistance crumbles if we abort," the Pilot says, her eyes cold and bright.
The Captain presses the internal comm button on the craft dashboard, meeting the Pilot's eyes. "Rear guard positions. We abort."
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.
.
.
.
.
The next moments are an eternity.
.
.
.
.
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.
.
The plains rush upwards and the Recruit squeezes his eyes shut.
.
The crash is a fragmented series of images, senses.
.
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....