Thank you everyone for sharing your writing, your art, and your bits. You can find me @Scampir anywhere.
Mech Pilot who retired peacefully
Major quietly sat, staring out at the expanse of stars, as they twinkled in front of her. Servos in arms and legs hissed softly as they lingered with the wear and tear inherent to machinery that was defied, if only for a short time, by any living body. The air was clean, and clear, and the station was well lit and well maintained.
The ship, Menagerie, was in dock for rest and respite, and while the ship was there, Major had given over her resignation to Commander Walsh, who sighed, and nodded, letting the old bear walk. Ambroz, Her mech, would stay for the next person willing to lift its shield, replete as it was with so many prayers, and testimonies, and kind words.
"Do you really want to watch me die out there, Catalina? Or are you just not ready to let go yet?" A little chuckle, that face as emotive-less as it ever was. It was a small miracle that Major still had what face she did have, after all. So she looked at the woman, who had worn the title Greenhorn with pride from that fateful day she joined the lance, and up until now. "It's not anything I do to hurt you, after all. I'm just tired. I'm tired, and I've pushed my luck over and over and over again. I've saved so many folks like you- You know that, I know that, We've both been there."
A little, staticky cough. "But I think that I know what I can offer you, if nothing else." A pause.
Greenhorn hadn't said anything since the start- those half-incredulous, half-babbled "You can't quit! You're not serious about this!?" words having been left without a follow-up as Major seemed unwilling to play the song and dance that Greenhorn wanted.
To argue, to debate. To try and threaten, or beg, or plead, or bribe her way into a little longer with her mentor there, alongside her.
To not have to let go before she felt satisfied.
Major pulled out a small storage drive, its port-connection held inside of a small pendant of a world that Greenhorn had never seen. "On here, is a copy of 'me.' The sum total of all my work, up to this point. It also has the licenses for Ambroz.
"But it won't be me, okay? It'll be...Whatever you decide to make of it. My legacy for you."
A pause, and a sigh, motioning the younger, but no longer young, woman over.
Those cold metal arms wrapped around Greenhorn's body, as those tears flowed unbidden to her eyes.
The shaky, deep gasps of breath as she failed to halt the sobbing.
Major gently cradled her cheek in her hand, the other around her shoulder.
"What this all was, Catalina - it was a chance for you to grow. To know what you could have, to know what you could be. To know what you aspire towards.
"Whatever you do next, is without me. But I trust that you'll carry that legacy forward into a future. To save. To help. A shield that won't break. A line that won't falter. Kindness and beauty and a world outside of the boundless cruelty of those who want and want and take and take."
"So spread your wings, and fly. And don't forget to write."
