Her skull was a cage of needles.
Renne lay in the dark, her hand pressed to the base of her skull, counting the throbs. One. Two. Three. Each pulse sent a spike of pain down her spine. The nanomachines hummed—not the warm hum of Argent's presence, but a cold, mechanical whine. A reminder that the connection was incomplete.
She hadn't slept. Couldn't. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw the dark space in her mind, the cracked blue spark, the wall that had shoved her out.
At 0600, her bracelet beeped. Today's schedule: Live Combat Simulation. Hangar Bay 1. Full gear.
She pushed herself up. Her body screamed. She ignored it.
---
The hangar was already loud with the clang of metal and the murmur of cadets. Rows of mechas stood in their alcoves—gleaming white for nobles, gray for citizens. At the far end, a cluster of training simulators waited, dull and lifeless.
Renne found her place in the citizen line. Eris appeared beside her, her face bright despite the early hour.
"You look terrible," Eris whispered. "What happened yesterday?"
"Synchronization," Renne said. "Didn't go well."
Eris's eyes widened. "You started sync already? Most of us don't get that until week three."
Before Renne could answer, Instructor Vex strode onto the floor. His red eye swept the rows of cadets.
"Today, you will pilot your mechas for the first time. Not in combat—basic mobility drills. Move, turn, stop. Nothing more." His gaze landed on Renne. "For those whose mechas have not yet accepted them, you will use the training simulators."
A few cadets snickered. Renne's jaw tightened.
The nobles were called first. Zade walked toward a sleek white mecha with gold trim. He climbed into the cockpit without looking back. The mecha's optical lenses glowed blue, and it took a smooth step forward—like it had been waiting for him.
Other nobles followed. Their mechas moved with practiced precision. Some had clearly done this before.
Then citizens. Eris was assigned a gray mecha, smaller than the nobles' but clean. She climbed in, and after a moment of hesitation, the mecha lurched forward. It wobbled, then steadied. Eris's voice crackled through the hangar speakers: "Whoa! Okay, I got it!"
Renne watched her, then looked at the other citizens. Each one stepped into their assigned mecha. Each one, after a brief struggle, made it move. Even the clumsy ones were piloting.
Her name was called. "Inductee Renne. Report to simulator bay."
She took a step toward the simulators. Her boots felt heavy. She looked at the metal pods—cold, empty, a confession of failure.
'If I go there,' she thought, 'I'm admitting I'm not ready. And if I'm not ready today, what about tomorrow? The day after? They'll put me in a simulator until I'm so far behind I can never catch up.'
She saw the nobles watching, their faces smug. She saw the citizens, some curious, some pitying. She saw Eris's mecha take another wobbling step.
'I didn't survive Mars to sit in a simulator while everyone else moves forward.'
She turned away from the simulators. She walked past them, past the gleaming mechas, toward the far alcove.
Vex's voice cut through the hangar. "Inductee Renne. The simulators are that way."
Renne didn't look back. Her heart was pounding, but her steps didn't slow. She reached Argent's alcove and stopped in front of the rusted mecha. Its optical lens was dark, its posture slumped.
She placed her palm on its leg. The metal was cold at first. Then, slowly, warmth spread beneath her fingers.
"I know you're scared," she said, her voice low. "I'm scared too. But I'm not going to sit in a simulator while everyone else moves forward. If you don't want me, tell me now. Push me away."
The warmth held. No resistance. No wall.
She climbed the maintenance ladder to the cockpit. The hatch groaned as she pulled it open. Inside, the seat was worn, the controls covered in dust. She sat down and pulled the harness over her shoulders.
The cockpit was dark. She felt the nanomachines in her spine stir, searching for a connection that wasn't there.
"Come on," she whispered. "We did this yesterday. I know you felt it."
Nothing.
She gripped the control sticks. "I'm not leaving. I'll sit here all day if I have to."
A low hum. Faint, but there.
The optical lens in front of her flickered. Pale blue light filled the cockpit.
Renne's spine tingled. The hum grew, filling her skull, her chest, her limbs. The darkness in her mind—the wall from yesterday—cracked. Light bled through.
And then she was inside Argent.
She felt its limbs as her own. The rust on its armor was a dull ache. The damaged shoulder was a sharp, constant throb. And beneath it all, something old and weary, watching her with cautious hope.
'I'm here,' she thought.
The mecha's response was a pulse of warmth, spreading through her chest.
She moved the control sticks. Outside, she heard the screech of metal as Argent took one step forward.
Then another.
Through the cockpit viewport, she saw the hangar floor. Cadets had stopped. Even the nobles were watching.
Renne took a third step. The mecha wobbled—its damaged leg dragging—but she kept it upright.
Vex's voice came from the hangar speakers. "Inductee Renne. Your mecha is not cleared for—"
"I have it," she said, her voice steady.
She turned Argent toward the center of the hangar. The movement was slow, jerky, but it was movement. The mecha was responding to her.
Then the warmth turned to heat.
The hum became a roar. Pain lanced through her spine—sharp, sudden, overwhelming. Her vision went white. The cockpit display flashed red warnings.
*ANIMA SURGE DETECTED. OVERCLOCK INITIATED.*
She didn't know what that meant. She only knew that Argent's power was pouring into her, too much, too fast. Her muscles locked. Blood dripped from her nose.
Outside, Argent's armor glowed pale blue. The mecha lurched forward, faster than before, its movements no longer controlled. It swung its arm, smashing into a nearby weapons rack. Metal shrapnel flew. Sparks erupted from the shattered equipment.
In the cockpit, alarms blared. Red light strobed across the displays. Renne's ears rang with static and a high-pitched whine that drowned out all other sound. Her vision split—she saw the hangar through the viewport, but also through Argent's sensors, a chaotic overlay of heat signatures and motion trails.
She saw the other cadets scrambling. One noble's mecha was too close. Argent's leg was swinging toward it.
'No!' she screamed in her mind. 'Stop!'
The mecha's leg halted an inch from the white armor. But the momentum threw Argent off balance. It stumbled sideways, its foot coming down—right where a group of citizens had been standing.
They dove out of the way. A girl screamed. Eris's mecha, still clumsy, tried to move and fell, its shoulder slamming into the floor.
"Shut it down!" Vex's voice, sharp, urgent.
Renne couldn't move her hands. The surge was eating her from the inside. She felt blood running from her nose, her ears, the corner of her mouth. Her left arm went numb, then dead.
'Argent!' she screamed in her mind. 'Let go! You're going to hurt someone!'
The mecha's anima pulsed—confused, afraid, desperate. It was pushing too hard, trying to give her everything at once. She felt its loneliness, its need, its terror of being alone again.
'I'm not leaving!' she thought. 'But if you don't stop, they'll take me away from you!'
The glow flickered. The roar quieted.
Renne forced her hands to move. Her fingers, slick with blood, barely gripped the control sticks. She pulled back with everything she had.
Argent's legs buckled. The mecha dropped to one knee, its armor scraping the floor. Sparks died. The blue glow faded.
Silence. Then the groan of stressed metal settling.
Renne slumped in her harness, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Blood dripped from her chin onto the harness. Her left arm hung useless at her side.
The hatch was torn open. Vex's face appeared, his expression grim.
"Get her out," he said to someone behind him. "Medical bay. Now."
Hands grabbed her, pulled her from the cockpit. As they carried her out, she saw the hangar floor through blurred vision. The weapons rack was a twisted ruin. Cadets were staring—some horrified, some pale. A noble's mecha stood frozen where Argent's leg had nearly struck.
Eris was climbing out of her fallen mecha, her face white.
And at the far end of the hangar, Zade stood beside his white mecha, his arms crossed. His expression was cold, but his pale blue eyes were fixed on her with something that wasn't disdain.
It was calculation.
---
Renne woke in the medical bay. White ceiling. The smell of antiseptic. An IV dripped into her arm.
She tried to sit up. Pain shot through her left shoulder, and she fell back with a gasp.
"Don't move."
Vex was sitting in a chair beside her bed, his tablet in his hand. His red eye glowed in the dim light.
"What happened?" Renne's voice was a croak.
"You triggered an Overclock. Level one." He set the tablet down. "Your mecha's anima surged, trying to sync with you all at once. Your body couldn't handle it. Muscle damage, minor internal bleeding. Your left arm will be fine in a few days."
Renne stared at the ceiling. "I almost hurt people."
"You almost killed a cadet," Vex said flatly. "If you hadn't stopped it at the last second, that noble's mecha would have been crushed. And its pilot with it."
She closed her eyes. The image of Argent's leg swinging toward the white mecha burned in her skull.
Vex leaned forward. "Argent hasn't had a pilot in seven years. Its anima is desperate. It pushed too hard because it's afraid of being abandoned again."
She turned her head to look at him. "You said you didn't know why it rejected everyone."
"I said that was the working theory." His voice was flat. "Now I have confirmation. Argent chose you. And it's trying to bond with you so fast it might kill you both."
Renne swallowed. Her throat was dry. "What do I do?"
"Control it." He stood. "You felt the surge. You felt it building. Next time, you need to stop it before it reaches that point. Overclock is a weapon, not a crutch. If you can't control it, it will destroy you."
He walked to the door, then stopped.
"You lasted longer than I expected. And you stopped it. That's the only reason I'm not expelling you."
The door slid shut behind him.
Renne lay in the dark, her left arm throbbing, her mind replaying the surge. The heat. The chaos. The moment she'd almost killed someone. And beneath it all, the desperate pulse of Argent's anima, reaching for her like a drowning person reaching for air.
'We almost killed people,' she thought.
But beneath the fear, something else stirred. The Overclock had happened. She had survived. And for a moment, before the chaos, she had felt Argent's full power. It was immense. Terrifying. And it was hers to control.
She closed her eyes.
'Tomorrow,' she thought. 'We try again. But slower. Much slower.'
Her bracelet beeped softly. A message from an unknown sender.
*Your father's chip was not confiscated. It was transferred. Find out who has it, and you'll find out why you were really chosen.*
Renne's eyes snapped open. She read the message again. Her pulse quickened.
She looked around the medical bay. Empty. No one watching.
She deleted the message and lay back, her heart pounding.
The chip wasn't gone. Someone had it. And that someone was watching her.
She turned her head toward the window. Outside, Saturn's rings glittered in the starlight, cold and eternal.
'Who are you?' she thought.
No answer came. But the seed of the question took root, and she knew she wouldn't rest until she found out.