Kelvin limped back across the frozen battlefield, KROME's damaged frame protesting every step with mechanical groans that made his teeth ache. His hands worked frantically across the holographic interface projected inside the cockpit, green light flickering from his eyes as technopathy flowed through every damaged system.
The left arm was responding now—barely. He'd jury-rigged a connection through secondary pathways that weren't designed to handle that much load, but it would hold. Maybe. The fusion containment chamber was stabilizing, though the readings still made him nervous. Neck actuator was functional enough. Chest armor was... well, compromised was putting it nicely, but the structural integrity was holding at sixty-three percent.
"Come on, come on," Kelvin muttered, forcing damaged servos to reconnect, rerouting power through circuits that sparked in protest. "Just need you functional for another—"
SHRIIIIEEEK—
