Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The observer, hiding among the old hulls and the removed flaps of the side hatches, exhaled with some satisfaction when the hoverbikes that had passed overhead a few moments ago flew further over the horizon - they hadn't noticed, so it was possible to continue the search. A protein bar wrapper was covered in the palm of her hand, so that the foil wouldn’t sparkle in the searchlight if it were turned on, but it was still tucked away in the side pocket of her backpack. After this simple procedure, the lombax lady emerged from her hiding place and looked over the seemingly endless fields filled with old ships of various sizes, jumped to the hard ground and went on her way.

Planet Bracca, a ship-dismantlement zone. Although it was commonly referred to by a less facetious but more concise name - Junkyard. To many, it was a godforsaken dump in a distant sector, dirty, reeking of oxides and fuel, where old civilians or battle-damaged warships were sent to be scrapped.

Few people come here of their own free will, but Rivet was among those few, for the Junkyard was like a second home to her, an inexhaustible source of spare parts and rare materials, all free of charge at the same time. Where else could you find a dozen osmium-coated razors or a target acquisition board from a fighter jet like the «Saber Wing»?

Today, however, her backpack was stocked with plenty of distribution coils, heat-resistant housings, and even a couple of incredibly valuable ruby semiconductors. «Yeah, something to dull the ennui if that bastard gets into my head again,» – Rivet thought.

True, life here, on the fringes of an already marginal sector, wasn't particularly pleasant, but she wasn't accustomed to complaining. She acquired a new, better prosthetic right arm and was able to plunge headlong into her passion for invention. «Maybe I'll go back home to Sargasso afterwards... – she shrugged, crawling through another pile densely braided with worn and dirty wires. – Sooner or later, everyone returns to their native shores. Huh, I'm quite the philosopher today.»

Pulling up the folding cart with the levitating cushion, removed for these «crawls», Rivet looked around again, choosing a sector to examine. The nights on Bracca were gloomy and cold, but fairly short. The edge of the horizon, indistinguishable between wreckage and debris, was a couple of shades brighter, and Rivet, like many local stalkers, was aware that wandering around in the closed zone in daylight was like buying a one-way ticket to the nearest «grate hut».

There was no reason not to finish at the closest conspicuous target, a medium-sized transporter, most of which was covered with a tarp and the exposed hull areas were dirty with local dust or dark with soot. Judging by the «triangular» arrangement of the engines at the stern and the towering «fin» of the cabin, it could well be a «Hammerhead» type corvette.

- Wow, it's been a long time since I've had an escort around here, – Rivet remarked enthusiastically, reattaching the cart to the back brace, and taking out her hammer instead, just in case she had to wade through more rubble by brute force or open something like a lever.

However, the first option came in handy, and the visit to the corvette had to be postponed: the road to it was blocked by a wide trench full of contaminated water and all kinds of technical garbage, and aside from it was a stack of boxes labeled «MandalMotors».

As she knocked one of them to the ground, Rivet noticed a blue glimmer flickering a little farther out among the junk and decided to leave the cart behind to carefully climb up the crates and reach its source. To her genuine amazement, after briefly digging through bits of hardware, crates, and wires, the lombax girl found a highly unusual-looking combat suit «sitting» on the ground. Rivet had seen various combat systems, but this suit surprised her: it was twice or three times her own size, with no tail, large ears, the «skin» resembling exposed muscles with veins of steel, and a large blue visor with a slightly cracked glass and, apparently, some sort of respirator. Where the ears should have been, there were only two metal circles with slits in them. Brushing some dirt and dust from the discovery, Rivet discovered that the suit was covered in small hexagons, the material of which was obviously carbon fiber.

After a few more crates had been moved and the junk had fallen out, Rivet was able to «dig out» her discovery and examine it in its entirety. By and large, the unfamiliar piece of military personal equipment was in good condition, except for a few large holes clearly fused by high-temperature plasma charges and a huge gash running through the chest area. The right arm was partially missing, too: it had been broken off at the elbow, and Rivet found it nearby, in a pile of old wires.

Still, the lombax was incredibly excited. To Rivet, it was always a real challenge to find and work with technology she had never directly encountered before, one she was more than happy to accept. Who knows, could it be possible to get at least some of these gizmos in working order and find a use for them?

«I don't know who would send this marvel to the scrapheap, but he does have a brain full of Corvaxian lichen. – With a chuckle, Rivet removed the cart from its backrest and unfolded it, turning on the levitation circuit. – There's clearly something to work with!»

Dragging the cart closer to the suit, Rivet proceeded to load the «big guy» into it, which proved a little more difficult than she anticipated. It wasn't exactly a bar of precious metal, but it was still heavy and not the most comfortable, mainly because of its height, but the «little» lombax still stowed the found costume on her «gravi-sled».

The sun was beginning to set on the horizon, and from the local east she heard the resounding peals of the clearly approaching thunder. Rivet looked around to see that it wasn't just thunder - there was a storm front coming toward the Dismantlement Zone, which meant there would be a storm tonight.

- Well, the good news is that the thunderstorm will completely cover my tracks, – Rivet exhaled, hooking the rope from the cart handle to her waistband for convenience. – The bad news is that I have to hurry and take cover, and that I didn't bring a raincoat.

Needless to say, she didn't like being in the cold.

***

Pulling her healthy hand out from under the warm blanket, Rivet opened and closed her fist a couple of times, happy to see that the blanket and the warming herbal infusion had done their job. Still, it wasn't easy to avoid the impending storm with the heavy discovery: the lombax managed to leave the Dismantlement Zone, but Rivet got quite wet before reaching the ship, so she spent the last two hours sitting in the cabin with a blanket and a heater on.

From here I had a pretty good view of the sedge-covered parma*, a couple of hundred cubits away. The sky was already clear, and the nights were relatively light at this time of year, so one could find calming vistas if they wished.

Rivet was lucky in this respect: on her arrival at Bracca she managed to find a couple of large abandoned buildings in the area, one of which resembled a hangar, and which housed her «U-wing», called by the poetic name of «Ophelia»**. Found a couple of years ago on Angelia, one of the first planets she visited when she began her travels, the lombax girl decided to become a «star wanderer» on the day she discovered it, and the fast-moving small transporter became her home.

Though Rivet sometimes longed to visit her home world, the planet she's lived on for as long as she could remember - Sargasso. Yes, life surrounded by acid lakes, of which there were many on the planet, and storage of oleum*** could hardly be called «sugar», but Rivet was not accustomed to complaining as a child. She owed much of this mindset to the Mortes, hard-working gelatonium pickers who welcomed Rivet as their own, provided her with her first job delivering raw materials to the processing plant, and offered her plenty of homemade lemonade.

No matter how tempted Rivet was by the vast expanses of space and the incredible new parts to invent, for which she had a natural predisposition, she hesitated to leave those she had grown attached to and shared so many fond memories with, but the mortals understood and told her to follow her dream: «This is your life after all, kid. Go ahead, if it appeals to you. It's not up to us to decide your future».

After finishing the drink that warmed her body and soul, Rivet decided to stay up late tonight, jumped out of her chair, rolled up the blanket, and took it to the cargo bay, which had been «converted» to a passenger compartment.

Through Rivet's efforts, the spacious compartment successfully housed all her belongings: two large shelves for clothes and linen for different climates, a folding workbench for light repairs, a shelf with pots in which several seedlings of Cobalian mottled flowers had sprouted, and a very comfortable cot where Rivet always slept soundly.

There was also a small drawer for books next to the cot, but Rivet hardly ever looked in it. She didn't have much in the way of reading, only a couple of magazines with scientific articles about the lombax race, but she couldn't find any answers to the questions of what had caused their sudden disappearance and, if they were still in the galaxy, where she could find them. She tried to write out individual «guiding» theses in a notebook, but there was no luck.

- Yes, that's how I remain a lost soul. Who am I, where am I coming from, where am I going? – she exhaled, pulling out her beloved work jacket and rolling up the sleeves on it. – As the saying goes, «no lineage, no tribe»...

Although, she was rarely ever sad about it.

A switch clicked, and two white lanterns lit up over the workstation Rivet had set up across from the ship.

This was where the lombax also kept her «stalker» supplies: a change of shoes for hiking in contaminated areas, breathing masks, a metal detector, that very sledge with a levitation cushion, and even a small exoskeleton for legs, which allowed to pull more weight if necessary.

It was a little out of the way now, though. The suit Rivet had found in the Dismantlement Zone was on the wide desk. But before diagnosing the system, the girl had to arm herself not with a voltage meter or soldering iron, but with a bucket of water, a rag and a compressor - the suit had to be cleaned of clogged dirt, and the accumulated dust in the helmet had to be blown away.

The procedure was unpretentious, even if it didn't seem too pleasant to some, but it had to be done. The initial examination further inflamed Rivet's enthusiasm for her inquisitive mind. Unknown names have always been a source of new experiences, so as soon as Rivet found the label «CryNet Systems» on the inside of the suit's «torso», her eyes immediately lit up. She had never heard of such a name.

In addition, it wasn't possible to determine exactly what material the outfit was made of. It also had metal inlays, similar in lightness and luster to the terratan from which Rivet fashioned the striking part of her hammer. Probably a nano-created composite of space titanium with reinforcing carbon fiber.

After scanning the suit with her primary material analysis scanner, Rivet was puzzled at first, because the scan failed to reveal all the structural components of the material, but she quickly realized that if in basic mode the scanner was set to know inorganic fabrics and alloys, then the suit contained... semi-organic nanomaterials?

- I'd venture to guess you belong to the military, – Rivet considered, going over to the helmet and finding the cap for the external connector at the base of the «head». It wouldn't be necessary to saw through the coating to «fuse» the external power cable pins.

After turning up the rheostat so as not to let too much power into the helmet at once, Rivet energized it, and the visor went «Wooooom... Wooooom...» twice, then began to glow a light shade of blue.

- Excellent, the wiring is still intact, – Rivet exhaled as she plugged in the resistance coefficient meter. If this is a military system, the helmet could very well have a CPU chip inside, maybe one of those simplified central boards or interfaces. You can expect almost anything from these nano-junkies.

«Scan... Resistance coefficient: ultra-low, Class III semiconductor. Central chip Hargreave-FX5950,» – the girl whistled a little. It's not necessarily the most advanced military system in the galaxy, but Rivet had never found anything like it in her life. She actually sat down for a moment. It somehow didn't feel so bad that she didn't go look aboard that corvette...

Taking the helmet and turning it to her face, Rivet stared into the blue visor glass for a moment, as if trying to establish a mental connection with someone. The potential of a discovery with superconductor stuffing was much too tantalizing. After all, this was an incredible rarity! Either whoever threw away the suit had a vault loaded with money, or he's dumber than the sand toads found on the Kizal Plateau on Veldin.

But what if...

- Fine, I've never had a problem with that, – Rivet sighed, pushing aside the doubts that had crept into her head. – Remember, Rivet, how you were just a kid when you fixed proton flares for the first time? And all it took was a look at the pictures in the technique books to improvise.

Turning the helmet around, the lombax lass turned it the right way, taking hold of those metal circles with slots. Clearly, since the previous wearer's head was bigger, it would be too big for her, but the real problem was how to put the thing on with her big ears?

- All right, fuck it... – Rivet muttered, pressing her ears to her head as tightly as possible, like layers of wrapping cloth.

As soon as the helmet was on her head, she opened her eyes and only saw a corner of the sky visible from the hangar, dark blue, barely discernible.  At first nothing seemed to happen, but then it seemed to Rivet that the surroundings grew another tone darker, but then, as she looked more closely, she saw a flickering white dot in front of her, and a little later, an inscription in angular white lettering:

- «Don't... move», – Rivet whispered.

She probably shouldn't have said it out loud, but from the fact that the inside of the helmet then glowed a light blue, the lombax twitched to the side, barely suppressing the urge to «headgear» away.

– Warning... Damage to all systems. Systems going into basic functions, – a muffled mechanical voice suddenly echoed in her ears. – New host detected... Scanning... Bio... – the voice trailed off. – Biometric indicators revealed. Wishing to adapt helmet configurations?

Rivet stood in front of the table, clutching at its edge, neither dead nor alive. Usually such voices were called «creepy», and the effect of surprise worked as well. So it took the lombax a while to get out of her stupor, only to finally squeeze out a quiet «Yes...».

- Please hold still. The battle helmet reconfiguration will now begin, – the same voice reported. – Estimated time of procedure: 30 seconds...

Following these words, the helmet was filled with a quiet, barely perceptible buzzing sound, and Rivet felt as if the helmet material had... come into motion. The space inside had clearly become smaller, but the walls of the helmet did not seek to crush her head. It was as if a very skilled, imaginative craftsman had sculpted a flight helmet just right for her, and right on the wearer.

The respirator rearranged itself, its edges beginning to be «washed» by thin strands of moving metal dust, turning to the metal of the helmet and taking the shape of a miniature and subtle lombax muzzle.

Then those very side circles opened, Rivet felt the ears straighten first, and then a thin «frame» lined up around their edges, and then the microfiber and light alloy «grew» on top of it. Surprisingly, even after the helmet completely «covered» her head and ears, she was able to hear the light breeze outside.

- Wow... It fits like a glove, – the lombax could only exhale.

- Of course, – the helmet replied in the same «dry» and laconic manner. – Adaptation to the shape of host's head now complete. What should I call you?

Rivet actually flinched, thinking that the fur on her cheeks was about to turn a little pink from the way she was blushing underneath. Yeah, it's not every day someone gets embarrassed that they haven't introduced themselves to a talking helmet from a super-advanced nanosuit of an unknown model.

- Rivet... I'm Rivet, voice in my head. Um... Maybe you could also tell me how to... How to address you.

- Copy that, Rivet. My full name: Advanced Artificial Intelligence for assessing combat situations and interacting with the environment to help the fighter. Name: Prophet.

Well, at least it's something, so it's definitely military. Rivet was unlikely to get anything exceptionally valuable from this, but at least there was one less question to ask. Except that the name was a little cheesy. She had met such «prophets» on a couple of planets before, only to settle down in a chaise lounge during their «performances» and crunch sweet sticks.

But that's not what she wanted to talk about right now...

- Um... Can we change the name?

- Denied, – the categorical answer followed. – This action requires administrator or command link privileges. You have no such rights.

Not the most pleasant thing to hear from an «advanced artificial intelligence», but it couldn't be helped. Well, maybe an attempt was in order...

- Well, can I at least call you «Rock» or «Rocky»? – Rivet asked. – It's easier than saying «Prophet»...

There were a few seconds of suspicious silence, but still...

- Okay, – the AI answered in the end. – Let it be «Rocky».

This was clearly a better introduction, and Rivet breathed a sigh of relief. She even somehow forgot about her tools, having decided to continue «communicating» with such an unusual «companion»:

- What happened to your last host? – she asked, pulling her chair to the desk from the back to the front. – You obviously ended up in this shithole for a reason, right?

In front of her eyes appeared the caption «Request accepted. Analysis of available data», and beneath it were schematic icons in the form of sheets of paper, which flipped over very quickly, until one of them enlarged and turned into the emblem of the military and the symbol of the Red Corsair gang. Rivet raised an eyebrow in surprise.

- The data on the first carrier, call sign «Viper», is partially closed, – the «Prophet» reported. – All that is available is that he was a member of the Outer Sector Special Reconnaissance Detachment, specializing in combat testing of weapons and equipment. «Viper» had to test the muscle overlay technology in combat conditions. Then, to make a long story short, the suit was fraudulently obtained by one Kuben Blisk...

- He's the biggest con man in this sector of the galaxy... – Rivet instantly perked up. She's had to cross paths with such «elements» in search of rare spare parts and infiltrating the «dark corners» of certain worlds. – He's a mercenary, that is. A sly-ass ghoul, but no one's heard from him in years.

- That's probably because he's dead. – Surprisingly, it was like the AI was trying to be sarcastic. If the voice wasn't so mechanical, it would have sounded more convincing. – Blisk was the second host of the suit for a while, until he defected to the Red Corsair thugs. He decided he was invulnerable as long as he was wearing the suit, so he openly provoked them. This kind of behavior is unacceptable for a suit wearer, so when a weapon was pointed at him, I did not activate «Defense» mode.

Rivet whistled. That, as they say, was a twist. It was a bit like a computer, but it had enough pride to be burned by a couple of plasma charges, or worse. Maybe she should take a trip to Aleero City and buy a lottery ticket, since she's lucky enough to have a one-of-a-kind costume.

- Okay, okay... – Rivet stretched out, turning her chair back so she could lean on it, sprawled imposingly in her seat. – I'll do my best to treat you with respect. Although I'm just a techie, I'll do whatever I have to...

- Copy that, – the AI replied. – Changing the current priority: assistance to the carrier, technical advice.

Rivet, of course, was happy to fiddle with devices of any complexity, but still, after some thought, decided that such an aid would not be superfluous. Moreover, after asking the «Prophet» more about his functions, the lombax became even more eager with interest.

Of course, most of the suit's basic functions were concentrated in its «body», and since it was virtually destroyed beyond repair - Rivet had no equipment for working with nanoparticles - she had to make do with what was left in the helmet.

In total, the suit gave the wearer three basic modes: «Defense» involved absorbing external damage, which used the energy of the suit's energy cell, and the stronger the damage factor, the more energy was consumed. The second mode, «Power», was necessary to multiply the wearer's strength, speed, and reaction by the interaction of the nanofabric with their muscles. Finally, «Camouflage» - cloak invisible in its essence, the carrier became invisible to the enemy, but the movement consumed energy. In addition, the suit had a built-in defibrillator, in case the wearer's heart stopped, and mini-motors that allowed them to move in the absence of gravity and facilitated movement underwater.

- Yeah, this is getting more and more frustrating. – Rivet shook her head. – So many cool features are ruined because of this Blisk... Okay, maybe there's still something left in the suit. I can't believe you're still operating, Rock.

- Agreed. Optimism is a useful approach in this situation, – the AI concurred. – Lucky for you, Rivet, the helmet's basic functions remain functional. Visor - active.

And before the eyes of the lombax appeared a thin sighting reticle with a dot and a pair of differently oriented triangles on either side of it. Rivet lowered her head and saw the illuminated outline of her body, and when she raised it, the outline of her ship. In addition, a rectangular frame with the full name of Rivet's mobile home was illuminated above the silhouette: «UT-60D U-wing Starfighter/Support Vessel. Manufacturer: Incom Corporation».

The highlighting of the environment data is being adjusted, – the «Prophet» notified. – I recommend that you set the voice setting to highlight objects of interest.

- Yeah, that's fine. – Rivet snapped the fingers of her prosthetic hand. – Otherwise, I'll drown in the designations. Ha, although I'm not a bad swimmer.

- I don't doubt it.

The next half hour was spent in a very entertaining «young nanosuit operation course». «Prophet» displayed diagrams on the front display of the helmet, describing the available functions, and then showed in practice how to use them. The visor could turn into binoculars, bringing the image closer, could activate a night vision device if the illumination was insufficient for the wearer, or a thermal imager. In general, the visor had access to the basic electromagnetic spectrum: ultraviolet, infrared, even X-rays, albeit slightly limited. In addition, the visor could be used to track the sources of radio conversations.

Furthermore, the helmet had a remote hacking module, which, in theory, made it possible to subdue any electronic device, including high-tech drones, automatic turrets, electronic locks, scanners, and so on.

- Oh, man, that's awesome... – Rivet didn't know what would surprise her more. Probably a little longer and her brain would start to boil from such an abundance of possibilities. Oddly, this suit didn't know how to make the wearer breakfast and lunch nor reheat a hearty Gridiron chowder.

The most «sagging» in functionality was the oxygen regeneration system: the entire suit's surface was used to, for example, decompose it into oxygen and hydrogen when in water. The first allowed the wearer to breathe in the water indefinitely, while the second fed the suit. So all that was left was the regeneration of exhaled carbon dioxide. If anything, it would at least give time to leave the vacuum zone...

- Phew... Okay, I hear you, – Rivet exhaled, already a little anxious to take off her helmet, and it was already deep into the night. – It's easier to name what you can't, ha.

- I like your sense of humor, Miss Rivet.

- Just Rivet is fine, – the lombax smiled.

The only thing left to do was to separate a segment of the suit's support system, its «spine», with the assistance of the «Prophet». Rivet did some of the procedures, deftly wielding an atomic scalpel for ultra-precise cutting, but the AI did most of the work, uncovering the major joints and splices. After all, the suit was advanced, and without its help, she would have been poking around the stuffing for at least a week...

- Okay... – Rivet exhaled, deciding to take off her helmet after all, yawning and stretching. Again, that familiar sensation of goosebumps ran through her body as her back snapped slightly numb from immobility. – I've been sitting too much today, it's time to rest, because such an assortment of gadgets can even make my head spin. Thanks for your help, Rock.

- Don't mention it, Rivet, – the AI replied, and then turned off the aiming reticle. The helmet glass turned blue again.

After turning off the light, the lombax slowly waddled to the ship, closed the door, and then hung her overalls on the nearest hook. She put the helmet away on one of the shelves and was about to unfold the bed, but then decided to go back to turning it toward the door instead of the bed. Maybe it was just a conundrum, Rivet just shrugged at her own thought, but still finished making the bed.

Putting aside her shorts and removing her prosthesis for the duration of her sleep, the tired lombax plunged her face into her favorite pillow, covered her shoulders with the covers, and turned out the lights. After rustling around under the bedspread for a while, she threw in her undershirt and underwear along with her shorts, which caused her to change the «viewing angle» of her helmet on the shelf.

Rivet fell asleep very, very quickly. The day had been full and unbelievably interesting. And there was no telling what would come next...

Chapter Text

Rivet spent the next few days mastering the capabilities of her new helmet and the electronic assistant: she wandered the various corners of the Dismantlement Zone, using the map displayed before her eyes with the routes that the «Prophet» had laid out, checking the capabilities of the environmental scanner and the binoculars.

Twice she even dared to do some «extreme» things, like get close to one of the local security patrols and then sneak right under their noses when the «Prophet» highlighted their supposed route or hacked into the rare surveillance cameras, briefly looping the picture in them.

The communication with the AI itself was also interesting. There was no way she could reconfigure the voice module, and the voice of the «Prophet» remained too «machine», but sometimes the electronic assistant tried to express himself more simply and gently, managing to make her smile.

- Is there enough food on the ship? – the AI asked through the earpiece on another sunny morning, while Rivet tidied up her tail hair with a brushing glove.

- What do you mean? – the lombax smiled.

- I downloaded one of those lombax research books you had on your bookshelf, – a reply followed. – Your body weight is below average for a female lombax. Are you on a diet or malnourished?

It's a good thing Rivet wasn't eating or drinking anything at the time, otherwise she would have spat crumbs or liquid all over the mirror. Yeah, it's been a long time since anyone has «complimented» her figure like that. And, in principle, there would have been nobody to do it if she was used to being on her own.

- Am I really that skinny? – Rivet asked out loud as she spun around in front of the mirror. The suit seemed to fit fine, a little tight, but her rear end looked decent enough. – I'm fine with my weight, Rock, just a little wiry, he he.

They once went to a nearby parma to practice their shooting skills - Rivet had a small arsenal in a cache under the duffel shelves. She had to arm herself, especially for the restricted areas where all kinds of shady characters hid from the galactic search. So if a couple of light pulse pistols don't help, then either the «Peacemaker» laser shotgun or the «Desolator» energy rifle would get through to the enemy for sure.

And here again, the «Prophet's» program of interaction with its host proved very useful: they didn't fire the «Desolator» - there weren't that many bullets available - but the AI suggested that the rifle had a third mode, «Pulse», in addition to the «Safety» and «Queue» modes. When the rifle was switched to this, it could accumulate and then unleash a single but powerful pulse of energy on the enemy.

But it wasn't limited to hikes on designated routes, «hacks» and the course of a young soldier. Rummaging through one of her notebooks, Rivet felt a metaphorical light bulb flicker over her head and immediately rushed to load one of the workbenches back onto her ship.

Normally, there's no need to hurry when living the life of a free wanderer, but Rivet was determined to tell her AI friend everything on the spot. With all systems working like clockwork, the ship floated smoothly out of the hangar's wide gate and, with the landing gear retracted, headed toward the east side of the planet with an increase in speed and altitude.

- I believe you said you couldn't find any trace of another lombax... – the «Prophet» dared to inquire while Rivet put the ship on autopilot and stepped away to double-check the toolkits for fine work.

Rivet, hearing the old (to herself) subject, was already tense, but not for long. It was decided a long time ago: indeed, to a certain extent, it was sad to be alone, but crying about it a hundred times or more wouldn't make it any better.

- I think so, – the lombax replied. – Why?

- I'm just curious, are you feeling homesick because of this? – the AI asked, but immediately opted for a preemptive apology. – Forgive me if I'm prying into your personal business.

But Rivet waved her hand graciously as she finished with her tools and retrieved a can of Solan Cascara from the fridge, then leisurely returned to the pilot's seat, exhaling:

- It's hard to miss someone you don't even know. I've said it once, and I'm sure I'll say it again someday.

For some reason, around that moment, a thought popped into her head: if her grand idea was a success, she would first celebrate at Zurkie's Pub, located in a shard plume in a nearby system, and then she would definitely go back to Sargasso. How was that not, as they say, a plan?

Fortunately, Rivet did not have to brood in such thoughts for very soon the destination, the Dantovo Gorge, loomed on the horizon. Rivet took note of this spot a long time ago, so she quickly turned the «Ophelia» toward the flat, table-like site she'd chosen among the sodden, native vegetation on the slopes. There probably used to be a local river here, and now Rivet was coming down one of the natural paths, outfitted in an exo-skeleton and a brand-new helmet as she pulled one of her hiking workbenches on a levitation cushion.

- Well, I think you behaved like an exemplary AI, helping me learn your «tricks», and being so patient today, too, – Rivet said, leaving the workbench next to the entrance to the narrowing section of the ravine. – Now we can lift the veil of mystery.

- I'm all ears, – the «Prophet» succinctly replied.

- I remember it like it was only yesterday when I first wandered into this place a year ago, – the lombax began. – I' ve seen all sorts of things by now, but this... This takes the cake...

At these words, the lombax and her electronic friend entered another part of the ravine, deep and widening, as if Mother Nature herself had created a huge, almost round hall in the open air, and in its center stood a considerable size combat robot that made Rivet feel like a child's toy soldier compared to it.

- Allow me to introduce «Northstar»*, – Rivet stated like a proud developer, while the Prophet immediately traced the contours of the once formidable mecha with a thin blue outline that flashed on the front display.

Judging by the holographic images of several other robots on the right side, but with «thicker» silhouettes than the one Rivet had presented, «Northstar» belonged to the class of light models (though again, the lombax seemed insignificantly small in comparison): rather narrow arms reaching to the robot's «knees», and equally narrow, at least when compared to other models, legs that were adjacent to a small trapezoidal shaped «torso». The arms were connected to a spherical «body», topped near the top by a protruding «eye» with a large vertical slit. In addition, on both sides above the «head» were two angular containers - rocket launchers.

The hull was covered with many dents and rainbow-colored spots of oxide, most of which was hidden by alternating layers of soot and dirt, but the cockpit still showed the outlines of the battle paint - the mouth of a predatory creature with plenty of teeth. It was clear that time had taken its toll on what was once a formidable unit.

- Combat manned mech «Titan», a «Northstar» class developed by the Hammond Robotics and Vinson Dynamics, – the «Prophet» declared, scanning the unusual finding several times. It would be impressive if a better emotional circuit existed.

- I'll take that as a compliment, – Rivet smiled as she took off her helmet and made her way over to the robot. – I found this big guy about a year ago. I was just walking around looking for cryolite for a heat-resistant coating, and I found the top sticking out of a mound on the other side of the ravine. – She pointed out the approximate direction of her discovery. – If memory serves, I spent three days digging it out, and then I somehow got it hooked up to the «Ophelia» so I could drag it over here.

- Miracles of ingenuity, if I may say so.

- Why, thank you. But I couldn't figure out what happened to him in the end. I'm a self-taught mechanic, not a specialist or an investigator, but it looked like he crashed sideways into the ground. Something must have happened mid-flight, and that's a wrap.

- I'm surprised nobody sent out a search party. Such machines were generally obsolete by the end of the war in the Outer Lands, but control over them was serious on the whole.

- Dunno, I've been trying to figure out why nobody came looking for him, too, – Rivet shrugged.

Already approaching the actual robot, the girl jumped onto its «knee» with a short run, then, with a little difficulty, onto its arm and shoulder. According to Rivet, the «Northstar» was badly burned, and she didn't find any signs of functioning electronics - whatever the malfunction was, it had damaged a good portion of the electronics, including the communications system.

More importantly, Rivet was one hundred percent sure that the robot's electromechanical components, which had mechanical parts or double or triple redundancy in case of failure, could have survived. This implied that one of «Northstar's» main systems, namely its flight core, could still be operational.

- That's a strong statement, – was the AI's only response.

- Then let's check it out, – Rivet picked up on the idea, and immediately pointed it out. – Boy, you almost sound like you're alive. Anyway, I was able to find out exactly what this guy's got. – She patted the «Titan's» armored hull with her prosthesis. – It was capable of flying and hovering. He also has nozzles that are fairly intact. – She moved closer to the edge of the shoulder to point to the back of the robot.

Indeed, there were six nozzles on the back of the «Northstar» as part of its flight system - four were on the edges, two in the upper-left and lower-left corners, and another two in the upper-right and lower-right corners. They were like long cylinder-pipes.

The other two, the central and auxiliary, were located right in the center of the back and differed only in the size of the nozzle - the central one's was slightly larger.

- What just popped into this lombax head of mine, anyway? – Rivet smiled as she climbed down the Titan's «loins» and jumped to the ground. – I want to soar into the sky... – she enthused, waving her palm in the air. – I think adapting his flight kernel into a light enough flight system is feasible.

- I'll try and analyze your train of thought, – said the «Prophet», trying to imitate a thoughtful «Hmm...» with his mechanical intonation. – I'll need to effectively disconnect the key components to help with point assembly.

- Literally took it off my tongue. If only you had one. – The lombax nodded her head. – Now that I have you, your computational skills are going to be a big help.

- I estimate that the approximate chances of success for such a project are... 1.099%.

- Wow... – Rivet felt like she had been dunked in cold water for a second. But even with these unbelievably negative results, she didn't lower her nose. – It's not zero, though, and that's good enough for me.

- Then I can only recommend that you pull your tools up here and carry the most powerful torches you have.

- Sounds like a plan.

- And I'm sure you have one too, Rivet.

- Almost. I like to watch and improvise.

They almost had to dance with the workbench and tool kit - there were a lot of big boulders in the cave under the open sky, so it wasn't possible to get close to the «Titan's» back at the first attempt.

With the stepladder against her back, Rivet, wearing gloves, coveralls, and her «Prophet» helmet, began wielding her thermal lance and quickly cleared the dirt from the incisions with a squeegee. Taking the AI's advice, she promptly took the plasma torch she found in one of the space shipyards.

Even with it, however, the «Northstar's» armored hull gave way with great difficulty. The operation, which in factory conditions took several hours to completely disassemble and remove the outer armor plates, took the lone Rivet almost the rest of the day.

And so the evening was spent plotting aboard the «Ophelia». The «Northstar's» engines were hybrid: the air-jet unit was responsible for flying in the planet's atmosphere. Of course, one couldn't take off from the planet into space with a rocket pack, but it made it possible to act in space, for example, when moving between ships.

The «Prophet» presented the front display with various options and combinations of mounting the Northstar's engines and nozzles on a chassis compact enough that Rivet could wear it like a suit. In her turn, the lombax was drawing her own options and diagrams for connecting the engine blocks to the nozzles and thrust control system. Fortunately, the «Ophelia's» cargo hold had enough spare parts of all kinds of sizes, so the chances of not finding something suitable were extremely small.

Rivet was about to fall asleep, but she was still sitting in the «Ophelia's» cabin by the lamp when the «Prophet» reassured her by finding the right combination with the triangular arrangement of engines: a larger diameter nozzle at the bottom, almost mid-back, part of the air-jet unit. Above it, on the sides of the suit, were two smaller nozzles that mated to the rocket block.

Stabilizers were necessary for maneuvering and a more stable flight, and they were available - Rivet was just able to twist a couple of kits from the old fighters, although the size of the stabilizers for the top of the suit resembled small wings.

All this engineering marvel was to be mounted on a lightweight cuirass consisting of chest and back plates and made of a high-strength tirilium-carbon alloy.

Rivet took up the problem in the morning - the Prophet recommended no further sitting, and the construction of the suit's power scheme began with the first rays of the Bracca sun.

First off, it was necessary to reinforce the supporting part of the structure: the armor was light, but the engine and the wings would be heavy.

- How about combining my exoskeleton with the «spine» from the suit? – Rivet snapped her fingers. – Let's bind them together and put the cuirass on the «spine».

- I'll assess the solution as optimal, – the «Prophet» reassured her. – But it is important that you properly connect the electrical circuits of your exosystem and the suit's support system.

Having temporarily put off dismantling the «Northstar's» flight core, Rivet got down to what was arguably her least favorite part of inventing - point work on the electronics. Unscrewing the covers from the exoskeleton, she patiently fished out the ports for the auxiliary systems, then removed the covering of the circuits and wires themselves in order to carefully unsolder them without burning any important inductors, and then to do almost the same with the metal «spine» of the battle suit to connect the necessary electrical circuits.

Thin jets of blue smoke appeared above the workbench as Rivet once again placed the soldering iron on the desired contact, applied a layer of solder, and then used the voltage and resistance meters to verify that the combined circuit was working properly.

The meter readings complied with the required results, which made it easier to breathe. Making the cuirass was faster, and the materials used were parts of an old rescue suit for working in hazardous environments. Rivet armed herself with a welder to connect to the support system, and the «Prophet» turned on the polarized visor to protect her eyes and assumed the spotting function again, illuminating the desired welding spots and the intensity of the machine on the front display.

- And... voila! – Rivet exhaled in satisfaction as she turned off the machine and wiped the sweat from her forehead. It was an open-air cave, but it still felt a little stuffy in places.

- Hmm... – the AI thought suddenly, and the data-reading icon appeared on the front display again. – My database does not include any safety features for the members of the lombax race, so I recommend adherence to standard norms of workplace prevention.

- Huh?

- Take a break from your work, Rivet. It will do you good to go back to the ship and turn on the air-conditioning.

Rivet was surprised by this concern on the part of the electronic assistant, but she didn't argue, temporarily putting aside her tools. Leaving the cave and returning to the «Ophelia», she turned on the air conditioner to distract herself from her stressful duties. The main thing was that the first element of her flight system - the power scheme - could be considered complete.

Much harder and longer was the work of dismantling the Titan flight engines. Rivet just didn't have a winch of the right height, so it was virtually impossible to get the «Ophelia» to work. As a result, the procedure would be complicated, but the only way to get by without heavy equipment was to put on the exoskeleton with leg and back support, so Rivet unscrewed the most cumbersome parts and lowered them one or two at a time down the stepladder to the workbench. The complete disassembly of the two center engines, the two side tubes and the fuel cell dismantlement lasted a tedious two days, and another day was spent taking apart the fuel lines, valves and ejectors.

- And now to reassemble it all to fit the cuirass... – Rivet exhaled, resting in the cot she brought back from the ship.

- In that case, I recommend a slight increase in your resting period, – the «Prophet» advised. – You spend too much time in one position. I suggest walking in the gorge to do some warm-up exercises.

Rivet couldn't hold back her smile. She had once been similarly cared for by the morts on Sargasso, but in the course of her wanderings, she had become unaccustomed to affection, which she often blamed herself for.

In any case, bending over, arching her back, turning her head, lifting her legs, and other exercises to the rhythmic «One, two, three», as performed by the «Prophet», was quite entertaining and relieved her mind. The girl and her AI friend agreed to increase the workload for the next two days, and rest on the third day.

And it helped in its own way: even though installing the engines was among the toughest jobs, Rivet was able to cope. She mounted the outer hull on the cuirass, installed the jet engine filters, welded the skids to mount the fuel cells with gelatonium, laid the fuel lines, and long and carefully assembled the thrusters to regulate the nozzles.

From the stock of parts from the «Ophelia», the assembly of the external thrust control elements of the engine and its central nozzle began. It looked like an arm cage extending from the shoulders to the hands and ending with two joysticks. To differentiate between the thrust control and the fire control system - Rivet hoped to be able to arm the suit - she decided to insert a special slider on one of the joysticks moving up and down.

Even with the breaks, the operation was very, very exhausting. Rivet fell asleep quickly enough, but requested to be woken up early. The «Prophet» often disagreed and made sure that work precautions and physical activity were always followed.

Finally, another important step came - the first test run of the huge mecha's scaled-down engine. Urging the «Prophet» to protect her ears, Rivet secured the rig firmly and withdrew to a safe distance.

- Three, two, one, go! – the girl commanded, and the «Prophet» activated the ignition. The vaults of the improvised «nature workshop» amplified the sound, and there was such a rumble, it was like a ballistic missile being launched in the distance.

The first minute run could be considered a success, but the AI revealed a number of problems: the inductor could malfunction on a restart, the plugs sparked several times, and the fuel pump needed to be removed and rebuilt.

- There are concerns that there will be a lot of heat in the shoulder blades and waist area. – The «Prophet» decided to use a holographic projector during lunch aboard the ship, illuminating the problem areas in red.

Rivet was thinking hard again. A cooling system was needed, but the back of the suit would be occupied by the engine and rocket launchers, so it didn't seem possible to cram it in. Running through her mind what other parts and devices she had found, the lombax snapped her fingers a couple of times:

- We could try to build a control board into the chest plate, and put a sprite generator** in pulse mode between the rocket unit. I've never done this before, but it's worth a shot.

- You could try, but it will obviously be more difficult than making «Sprite» or «Coke».

- A historical moment: a military artificial intelligence learns how to make jokes!

Thus, three more days were spent assembling and installing the cooling system, most of which, however, was mounted in the engine nacelle on the back, and only the control board was placed on the chest.

On the second day, while taking a detailed look at the sprite generator core, the «Prophet» pointed out that the fixing ring at the connection between the cold plasma conductor tubes, which cooled the hottest parts of the engine, and the core had to be reinforced. The ring had to be made of metal with high resistance to wear and tear.

She was once again aboard the «Ophelia», rattling the scrap metal in a painstaking search for what she needed.

- We can speed things up if you could fill me in, – the «Prophet» called out as Rivet removed the electrodes from the battery removed from a component of some flight suit, and then scraped off the pieces of metal with a knife.

Before she could answer, Rivet pulled out one of the target acquisition boards from the «SabreWing» fighter, pulled back one of the capacitors with pliers, and pulled out a piece of metal, too:

- Well, that's ruthenium, – she pointed to a piece taken out of the battery. – ...and platinum. – Then onto the chips, clamped with pliers. – About zero to fifteen grams of each. One and six grams of metal should be enough.

After taking apart a few more boards and battery electrodes, Rivet, under the light of a lamp, cleaned the mined metals as thoroughly as possible from the remnants of protective coatings and insulation, and then retrieved a small canister from the ship's fuel supply, a stand and a torch for heating resin for the roofing work. Not long after that, she grabbed some tongs and a refractory cerium oxide crucible - she was lucky enough to find this stuff at a semi-abandoned smelter.

After moving a safe distance away from the ship and clearing the ground of any vegetation, Rivet made a circle of large rocks, drew the burner tube into its center, and connected it to the fuel canister. Using an electric igniter to get the combustion to just the right temperature, Rivet poured the metal mixture into the crucible and used a pair of tongs to put it on the fire.

After waiting for the metals to melt and turn into a brightly glowing liquid, Rivet brought out a mold - a graphite substrate filled with crushed cryolite - with the shape of the part marked. The «Prophet» warned that there was only one chance, but the prosthesis Rivet used to hold the crucible tongs didn't flinch, and the casting was successful.

Now that the metal ring had been cleaned of cryolite residue and polished, Rivet hurried back to the site of the main work and inserted it into the cooling system's core. Another long tedious manipulation with the tools, but her patience eventually prevailed once the part fell into place.

Before what the lombax hoped would be the last stage of the job - installing the avionics - she wanted to go back to testing the stability of the engines. Rivet fixed the design as it had previously been, and the «Prophet» began to monitor the operation of all the major parts, as well as the «black box».

As it turned out, the testing was not in vain - in one test, the plugs started sparking like holiday fireworks, the fuel pump worked repeatedly in another, and occasionally the inductor malfunctioned. Even though the engine would start, it refused to work properly.

- Yeah, it's a real bummer. – Rivet shook her head at her latest failure. One of the rocket block valves failed, causing the left engine to malfunction. – Then again, no one said it would be easy.

- Commendable persistence, – the «Prophet» appreciated.

Together, the lombax and AI formed the perfect tandem: the AI scanned the design with each run and illuminated all the identified problem points on the face display. Rivet, after waiting for the engines to cool down, armed herself with her tools and began to patch up the identified defects one at a time.

These were very hard days; only physical exercise under the guidance of the «Prophet» saved them from the routine. By the end of the third day, there was finally a light at the end of the tunnel: Rivet had achieved a full hour of trouble-free operation of the engine at near full throttle. She was literally jumping for joy, throwing her goggles in the air and yelling «Hooray!».

Success was nearing, and after Rivet spent most of a one-day «holiday» sunbathing (the weather was unusually clear for the fickle Bracca), the next big step was to install the stabilizers and avionics.

The angle of the upper stabilizers had changed: now they were almost touching the ends, forming a triangle with a flattened top above Rivet's head, and rockets began to fly out of the containers themselves, of which there were six in each block. She returned by the end of the day with the stabilizers removed from the X-83 «Twin-Tailed» fighters, which could be adapted to a lightweight flight system.

It looked as if fate had decided to reward Rivet for her persistence - mounting the wings of the suit (even the stabilizers from a light fighter looked like wings compared to the light jetpack made for a five-foot-four lombax) was a lengthy process, but there were barely any problems with the work.

The thrusters, flaps and air brakes, electrical circuits, wingtip automatics and nozzle flap controllers were all wired, and the power control slider was re-tuned and calibrated. The light flight system was getting closer and closer to completion.

However, the true last stage was the production of the final component of this complex set - the flight suit.

Rivet was about to roll her eyes, thinking that she'd have to go back to the dismantlement zone, but it turned out that she hadn't been gathering things so carefully for nothing: she found a military jumpsuit of durable quilted fabric, clearly from a race not known for its tallest representatives, which she adjusted to her figure with laces, then tried on a pair of gloves and socks.

On the sides of the sleeves, pants and back of the suit to the chamber on the chest were the so-called pneumatic tubes, which, if necessary, tightened the shell of the suit and created mechanical pressure on the body - it was necessary for protection against altitude pressure drops. And instead of a hermetic helmet, there was a combat suit helmet with the «Prophet» as the control system.

It must have been a long time since Rivet had been as excited as she was on the day of her first test run with a live pilot, that is, with herself. Maybe she wasn't so worried after all. It took a long time for her to try and calm her excitement with glycine, reaching a state of «Brain Fresh, Bladder Empty».

Clad in a dark green altitude-compensating suit, Rivet took the suit's helmet and descended into the cave that she had spent the last few days working in. The legs were inserted into the leg mounts of the exoskeleton, the arms tightly covered by the rail mounts, and the compensating suit and the power circuit were tightly paired. The suit itself felt heavy, but it was within tolerance.

With a deep breath, Rivet put on her helmet:

- «Rocky», you there?

- Yeah, I can't go anywhere else. – The AI seemed to be learning some humor after all.

- Heh, turn on your head display.

- Right. – The sighting reticle appeared before Rivet's eyes, the contours of the cave were outlined, and a frame with a three-dimensional model of the suit itself appeared on the left.

- Status report? – she asked more firmly, holding her hands out in front of her and squeezing the controls.

- I hooked up the helmet to the pneumatic system, and the scan shows that we're connected and ready to go.

Again, as if gathering her courage, Rivet breathed in and out, placing her hand on the traction control slider. She decided that for the first test - hovering - just one percent of the starting power would be enough.

After counting from three to one, she turned the slider down a little and squeezed the left control handle. A growing howl sounded behind her, followed by the roar of the jet engine, and her whole body trembled as her legs slowly pulled up off the ground.

For a split-second, Rivet thought she was losing her balance, but eventually she just hovered in the air, rounding her eyes as she experienced an unbelievable, near-fall-like sensation. But she correctly entered hover mode, shifting only slightly to the side. Turning the slider down, Rivet felt the engine RPMs weaken, and her feet touched the hard surface again.

- Are you all right, Rivet? – the «Prophet's» voice came to life in the helmet's earpiece.

- Yeah, this is cooler... Cooler than I imagined it would be, – the girl gibbered. – Now let's go up with three and a half. Three, two, one!

There was another howl and another roar, only this time it seemed a little more abrupt and swift, and Rivet hovered a couple of meters higher, but it was still working. Turning the control knobs slightly away from herself, the lombax promptly began to shift - the body tilted, and the thrust slowly drove it forward. Muttering over and over again under her breath, Rivet moved her hands to the side and began to turn sideways. She made an arc in the air, as if she were entering a wide turn on a hoverboard.

Perhaps the only thing she had to be more careful with was the forward motion of the handles - Rivet almost immediately shifted to the opposite position and the rounded-eyed girl flew several meters backwards.

However, Rivet emerged safely from the «overlap», regaining a stable position by slowly retracting the thrust and touching the ground with a deafening «Boom!». Her legs bent slightly under the weight of the suit, but she held on.

- Sweet! It's working! – The engines, the cooling that kept the first one from burning Rivet's back, the support system, even the cover the lombax used to cover her tail just to make sure she didn't burn it with the jet stream. Everything indicated that she was ready to take a giant leap with just one small step...

- Alright, «Rocky», check the airtightness of the helmet again and prepare for takeoff. – Tilting her neck left and right a couple of times in order to stretch more, Rivet put her arms out in front of her again and squeezed the control knobs, preparing to turn the thrust slider much harder this time.

- Rivet, there are still a huge number of factors we haven't calculated for the actual flight attempt.

The lombax rolled her eyes, although the excitement didn't completely dissipate. She had been prepared for that answer.

- «Rocky», if we can't «walk», – Rivet declared, intoning the metaphorical quotation marks. – then we'll run. So one more time: three, two, one!

With her head up into the sky, Rivet turned the thrust slider well past the middle of the scale. The hum of the engines rose so high she thought her ears were going to pop. A brick-red jet burst from the nozzle of the engines, followed by a light blue one. The Prophet temporarily took control of the situation, bringing the plucky daredevil who was screaming «Yee-ee-ee-ah!!!» at the top of her lungs into a horizontal flight.

Her sense of time was dulled by the adrenaline rush, so Rivet had no idea how long she had been flying like that - with her eyes goggling and her mouth hanging open.

Her hands were shaking now and then, probably from the overexcitement - it was as if she didn't immediately feel how she turned the controls to the side, and the suit began to fly, spinning in a spiral. As she leveled off, Rivet pulled the handles up and added more thrust, piercing the nearest cloud like an arrow from a bow.

The reality of what was happening was beyond description, but it was the purest fact - she had soared into the sky, flying on a lightweight jet pack assembled from the Titan's giant parts. Nobody would believe it unless they saw it.

Rivet believed it, though. With the words, «Easy as pie», she had already turned the handles downward, beginning her descent along a smooth ballistic trajectory. Flying over the western edge of the Dantovo Gorge, Rivet ventured down and flew over it herself, flipping over sideways. Brilliant... Handles away in an upward motion - Rivet «dove» out of the rocky tunnel, leveling off.

- «Rock», I... I... – The lombax was now like a stranded fish, capable only of opening her mouth. As her heart was beating like mad, it was difficult to find the exact words to describe her excitement. – I've never done anything like that in my life!

- I can tell.

- Alright, let's get to the dismantlement zone!

The AI displayed the horizon line and marked the desired point with a triangular red marker. Turning the handles in its direction, Rivet turned the suit, continuing her flight with a slight descent, stopping at about four hundred meters. The altitude was far from extreme, but everything was so beautiful and breathtaking - fields and wasteland like a huge patchwork, barely visible strands of trails and roads, everything was passing by with incredible speed from below.

Before long the edge of the dismantlement zone loomed ahead, and Rivet gained altitude, making a turn to fly a little away from the zone to avoid crashing into it. There were huge rows of all kinds of ships - corvettes, transports, sloops, interspersed with stacks of various junk, some ships were still intact, others were bare hulls without cockpits, wings, or landing gear. The «Prophet» used the binocular function several times - by tracing the outlines of some individual ship, it highlighted a circle on the front display, in which that same ship was displayed on a larger scale.

After passing the local cordons, Rivet moved on to the next part of the program she invented on the fly - the pilotage. The first figures, as befitting a test, were simpler: a straightforward «figure of eight», that is, two turns, left and right, without losing or gaining altitude. Even so, Rivet couldn't contain an enthusiastic «Whoo!». The same emotion-filled exclamation was repeated as the lombax made two combat turns - a quick change of direction, turning one hundred and eighty degrees as she gained altitude.

- The first test observation, «Rock», – Rivet said with a broad smile as she emerged from such a U-turn. – Next time you can open the air brake wider, because the turn was too loose.

- Copy that.

- And now for the «Dead Loop»!

- You're a courageous one, Rivet.

After a second of leveling off and keeping the flight strictly parallel to the ground, the lombax shifted the handles sharply upward, heading for the zenith with an enthusiastic shriek, but no longer keeping the controls in the extreme position. From the vertical flight, the suit and its test subject continued to turn, flying back down, then the flight became vertical again, until it turned horizontal once more. Judging from the «Prophet's» graphic display, Rivet described an almost perfect ring in the air.

Further down the line came the «Immelmann Loop». It changed to a horizontal flight, and then back up again with a spike, and there, at the extreme point, a one hundred and eighty flip. After flying several hundred meters «on her back» and with her head down, an ecstatic Rivet leveled her flight.

- Ugh, that was intense, – she gasped for breath.

- Are you nauseous? – the «Prophet» inquired.

- No, I'm not nauseous. It's just that my head feels a little twisted because I haven't done such pirouettes in a long time. After all, I'm not a fighter pilot.

- I advise you to be more careful.

- I can keep going.

Rivet's simple half-loop and half-loop didn't seem good enough either, so the lombax, who had developed a taste for aerobatics, took the liberty of performing «the Bell»***. After leveling off again, Rivet flew upward, and when she reached a vertical position... she shut down her pack's engines and began to fall with her back to the front. It felt as if everything inside had clenched into a lump, and when Rivet flipped her head forward, she fired the engines again. Needless to say, the number of heartbeats per minute was off the chart right then.

But with all the aerial acrobatics, the lombax was distracted and lost sight of the weather factor. After making a steep turn to gain an altitude of two thousand meters, Rivet flew straight through a cumulonimbus cloud.

It was like flying through a viscous mist paired with a wall of water - even through the impenetrable suit she could hear the drops of water drumming on it. Rivet continued to gain altitude after flying through the cloud, but she made a serious mistake - frost started to form quickly around the edges of her helmet, and most of the indicators on the front display disappeared and were replaced by the big red word «Danger!».

- Attention! Surface icing detected! Rivet, we must descend at once! – the «Prophet» alerted.

Not willing to argue, Rivet made another turn to begin a gradual descent. The only problem was that the water covering the suit hardened too quickly to disrupt the engine's operation. Rivet's elation faded almost as soon as she realized that the thrust had dropped to dangerous levels, and she was about to fall over like a rock.

When the speed dropped even more, the suit went into a flat corkscrew, starting to spin almost like a yurt, and Rivet was ready to panic when almost all the indicators went out. She wanted to soar through the air, not crash into the ground and turn into a pancake...

- Ice! «Rocks», get those flaps open fast! – Rivet yelled, straining to keep her head from spinning.

- Activating the emergency system, – the voice of the AI in the earpiece came out.

Rivet also had a mechanical system hidden in her forearm in case of such an emergency, but she didn't have to use it. The «Prophet» turned on the mechanical lock, which opened the flaps and grilles of the air brakes. Rivet's whole suit seemed to bristle, and there was the crackling sound of ice breaking and falling off the suit. The air intakes were freed from the ice, so the engine quickly began to pick up speed. The jet burst out of the nozzle again, and Rivet, who was out of the stall, pulled the controls up as hard as she could.

- Come on, come on, come on!!! – she almost screeched out, seeing how fast the ground was approaching. When your life was on the line, time seemed to slow down: the alignment felt excruciatingly slow, but then her body became parallel to the ground again, and she began to look upward. She soared higher as the edge of the wing brushed against the water surface of a small local river.

- Yeah-ah-ah-ha-ha! – the girl exclaimed so loudly that she nearly deafened herself as the altitude reading on the face display showed an ever-increasing number.

Rivet must have had a few more gray hairs in her ponytail at that moment, but she was ready to thank all the gods she knew. It was too damn close and dangerous to fly further through the clouds, but she didn't give up flying altogether - she turned back toward the Dantovo Gorge and made several «laps of honor», bringing her total time in the air to a little over two hours.

Finally, the no less exciting moment of landing followed. Descending «on a large gradient», that is, in a spiral, Rivet gradually reduced the thrust and made it straight down to the center of the cave's stone floor. A meter above the ground, the Prophet cut off the engine, and Rivet plunged to the surface with a muffled «Boom», even ducking one knee like a landing superhero.

After the engine stopped, Rivet was swallowed up in an oppressive silence for the first few seconds - her ears didn't immediately adjust to the normal surrounding sound after the constant monotonous humming that could be felt even through her helmet and earbuds. She even swayed a little on her way to the winch to hang the suit up.

When the carabiner clanked behind her back and Rivet climbed out of her cuirass, she literally jumped up and down, threw her arms up in triumph, and then tossed her helmet into the air.

- The «Ophelia» crew survived! – the girl exulted. She took a few breaths from her emotions, and then added in a calmer voice, as if to make a conclusion: – Yes, I can fly...

The flight was so exciting and dangerous (especially the «surprise» with the ice) that Rivet ran to the ship in her compensation suit and brewed her favorite herbal mixture - her hands shook beyond comprehension, her heart was pounding, and it only stopped after a hot drink.

The exhilaration of the flight and the soothing effect of the tea sobered Rivet to the point that she fell asleep in U-wing's cabin almost immediately, and a folded towel that was left in the cave served as a substitute for a pillow - not much difference for Rivet at the moment.

Rivet arose in the afternoon, when the local sun was almost at its zenith, but she didn't care much for that. She was still ready to shine with an overabundance of emotion at the success of her project. After loading the workbench, tools, the suit, and the cot back onto the ship, Rivet returned to the hangar near the dismantlement area.

Initially, Rivet thought she'd be flying in to celebrate success almost immediately, but she clung to that «almost». After all, no one had been chasing her anywhere: the first post-flight day was spent sorting out the «Prophet's» notes.

In the end, the first model didn't come out without flaws - it was massive and very sensitive to care and maintenance. It did not, of course, have to be rebuilt from scratch, but Rivet still replaced a number of parts on the advice of her electronic friend and told the «Prophet» to note other shortcomings that could be corrected later: the need to improve the exoskeleton, the installation of an anti-icing system, as well as changing the filters - the sand blowing over the dry, desert-like wasteland near the dismantlement zone could cause irreparable damage to turbine blades.

The suit also could have been painted in a more interesting way, just like the altitude-compensation suit coverall.

But that would all come later. For now, Rivet taped a sheet of paper over the dashboard of the ship with two points: to mark the test flight at Zurkie's Pub and to make a quick stop on Sargasso. She would have to explain to the morts what misfortune had caused her to lose her arm, but at the moment of takeoff, Rivet found she could handle it.

Chapter Text

- I think my molt is starting to kick in, – Rivet exhaled with a hint of irritation as she finished brushing her sides and back. It would seem as if it started earlier this year. Although, when you often fly from planet to planet and only look at the sol meter*, your sense of time is a little dulled and sometimes you can miss a moment. She didn't have much to show for it, though, and the fur care kit allowed Rivet to maintain her fur all over the ship.

- I would suggest stocking up on fur care products and purchasing a new groomer, – the familiar voice of the Prophet echoed in her earpiece.

- How thoughtful of you, – the lombax said with a smile, taking her comb out of its case. She ran her fingertip over the fine teeth, making a «Trink!» sound, and began to move the comb in long, sweeping strokes from neck to chest and neck to shoulders, and then along the sides. – But you don't have to worry too much, because I was just checking everything before I went to Bracca. I might as well make myself look like a model, hehe.

Fortunately, Rivet's longest fur was on her tail, and the rest of her body was fairly short, lying very evenly, as if nature itself had assisted her as the comb slid over it.

Returning briefly to the cockpit, Rivet checked the jump engine monitor - though the Prophet would be ready to give a situation report at any moment through the earpiece she began to wear in one ear more often, it felt better to look inside the cabin herself. It was a little over half a parsec* away, so it would take a few minutes to get cleaned up with her combing glove.

The delay on Bracca after the first successful flight was somewhat longer than originally intended - two sols, which was just a little over two days. Rivet was actively refining whatever systems in her jetpack that were possible to handle with the available materials.

Refined the fuel system, stabilizers, starting work on the de-icing circuit, adding special convenient weapon mounts for the exosystem, and, what Rivet liked best, installing a twin rocket launcher. It was the hardest thing to deal with, but eventually the launcher from Northstar's right shoulder was modified into a lightweight multiple rocket launcher.

True, there were no target acquisition drivers available, but Rivet was able to solve this problem as well - after digging through the machinery graveyard and hiding under the noses of the disassemblers' guild patrols, the persistent inventor was able to find a fighter, from whose onboard computer she managed to extract the necessary controller.

So now they could justifiably celebrate the engineering success. After tidying up the fur on her body and tail with her glove, Rivet donned her compensatory suit - the visit was scheduled in a jetpack - and hurried first to her quarters, where she rechecked the pulse pistols and the «Peacemaker» once more.

Once she was done, Rivet finally took her rightful place in the cockpit, buckling up and waiting for the Ophelia to come out of hyperjump mode.

Fortunately, it wasn't a long wait, though she could show considerable patience when it was necessary. After coming out of hyperjump and switching to sub-light speed, the ship almost immediately entered the zone adjacent to its destination - the Scarstu debris field.

And on one of these wrecks, which passed the ship that had switched to manual control, there was already a striking sign, dispelling the cosmic blackness with the green light of illumination, paired with the white light of the nearest star - «Zurkie's Gastropub and Battleplex». A little later, after a series of evasive maneuvers and course corrections to bypass some wreckage, Zurkie's place itself was in sight.

It was located on the largest planetoid found in this cluster - large, like a large asteroid mining station, of which there were especially many in the neighboring sector, as flat as a table, and it looked like a schematic drawing of a star: the «gastropub» itself was located under a huge protective dome, to which, like beams, stretched galleries of passages that connected to the landing boxes for ships. Once she picked a box with green landing lights over it, Rivet slowed down and turned the ship toward it.

- Fixing the incoming message, – the Prophet announced with perfect efficiency as soon as the indicator on the mini-screen lit up.

- Attaboy, – the lombax nodded, moving her chair closer to the dashboard so she could flick the switch and receive the message.

- Zurkie's Gastropub and Battleplex Control welcomes you, – the other end of the line announced with cheer. – Please give us your ship's flight code and your desired landing site.

- And I salute you, the code transfer has started, – Rivet greeted and, with a few keystrokes, initiated the transmission of the required code. – Landing Box 4, please.

- Great choice. Your code has been successfully received, so please sit down and enjoy your visit!

- Interesting place. – And this was before the Prophet. – According to extant records, it served in the war as a favorable meeting place for spies and informants of the now independent Commonwealth of the Outer Lands militia.

- Yeah, I heard something like that. – Rivet confirmed. – But I was born after that war that everyone talked about ended. Many of the planets have yet to recover, so there is now a... How do I put this delicately? A slightly different contingent. It's creepy and pretty annoying.

If there was anything left to talk about, she would discuss it later, because it was time to get on board. By further reducing the thrust of the main engines and redirecting it to the vertical thrusters, also called landing thrusters, Rivet gently turned the Ophelia straight toward the landing box. The gate was blocked by the light blue glow of an energy screen, dense enough to keep the air out, but through which any ship could pass safely.

Slowly bringing the ship under the hangar roof, Rivet released the landing gear and slowly turned the thrust lever to its lowest position, concentrating on the descent sensor until she felt a slight jolt from below. With a soft landing, you could completely muffle the engines.

- Exemplary landing, Rivet, – the AI remarked.

- Thank you. – The lombax actually blushed a little bit.

But it was better to save the embarrassment for later. Checking to make sure the engines were off but on standby, Rivet let out a contented sigh and went down to her quarters. She snapped on her belt and holstered both pulse pistols, took the Peacekeeper shotgun out of its hiding place in the backpack mount, and began to put on the jet pack itself.

- Well, we're basically all set, – she concluded, and taking her helmet from the shelf, headed for the gangway hatch.

She hadn't been in this place in a long time - the corridor, where a couple of vurks met to argue about something of their own, and a Skakoan, felt very familiar to the lombax, but she caught herself thinking that she'd had enough of it while wandering the planets in her search for rare details.

The lobby loomed ahead, the music, muffled at first by the walls of the corridor, became more and more distinct. Then there was the lobby itself, bathed in light blue and lilac from the neon lights. And then there was the gun cabinet...

- Welcome to Zurkie's Gastropub and Battleplex! – greeted the robotic checkroom attendant, whose head had previously only been visible above the counter and was now hovering over the counter in front of the entrance. – Allow me to take your gear and weapons.

- I guess it's time to get used to this again, – Rivet exhaled, smiling slightly.

Rules are rules, so both pistols, the shotgun, and even the jet pack had to be removed - it was impossible to remove the projectiles - and quickly placed on the rack. There were all sorts of storage lockers at the entrance, so it would be safe to leave the engineering masterpiece of my own making. After getting a key bracelet with a number and a magnetic button from the checkroom attendant, Rivet finally stepped into the pub itself.

She was greeted with loud music, a scattering of lights over the tables, the counter, and the electronic echoes of the slot machines. It was, as a dictionary example would call it, a real feast of life. The regulars were either chuckling at their tables, making toasts, or cheering up their friends who were absorbed in the slot machines' holo-games.

While walking past all this splendor of pure merriment, Rivet, who had taken off her helmet and was carrying it with it pressed to her side, caught herself thinking that she actually missed this place - to a greater or lesser degree.

She thought that maybe she could just find a place to sit quietly and refresh her mind and body with a big glass of ice-cold cocktail...

- Namaste and peace be with you, Rivet! – the Zurkie robot greeted in his sonorous electronic voice with a welcoming bow. Perhaps that's another thing Rivet missed a little. Rarely in the Outer Lands do you hear words of greeting, and honest ones at that. It just wasn't a common occurrence.

- Thank you, Zurkie, – Rivet made the V gesture with a smile as she placed her helmet on the bar stool. – How are things going with the pub?

- I appreciate your attention, it's pretty good. Although without you, it sometimes feels like something is missing around here.

- Maybe, maybe, – the lombax nodded. – To note one thing, I myself am from Bracca.

- In this ass of a galaxy? – If Zurkie could have arched a skeptical eyebrow, he probably would have, but the faceplate included no moving parts other than his «mouth».

- Believe me, you haven't seen any real asses yet, – Rivet added with a pretentious roll of her eyes. – I was able to find something over there. One idea rolled around, and now I'm going to check it out. Got anything cold?

- You bet. We just released a new one, «Sage Romance».

- Well, let me have it.

While Zurkie stepped aside to instruct his staff to start preparing a meal to welcome their guest - and Rivet was very welcomed in the pub - a distraction was still possible.

Using the holo-projector built into the helmet, she decided to turn on the holographic map - the situation in the interstellar expanse, whether there were any cometary knots or clouds of highly ionized gas on the way to Sargasso. She didn't particularly want to get fried in such a «pressure cooker» with strong «heating» from space radiation.

But after thinking for a while, Rivet waved her hand and switched to her flight system diagram. At one point, though, out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a strange man in an amber-gray suit and skull helmet stroking a black raven on his forearm and seemingly staring at Rivet through the round lenses of his protective goggles.

But he didn't pry and didn't seem to intend to, and thanks to that, the lombax decided to ignore the stranger. Would a cold drink refresh her brain and give her something else to think about regarding the jetpack?

- Even here you want to get started on «technical advice»? – In the seemingly monotone voice of the Prophet, there was a touch of sarcasm. – I'll make an additional note: a penchant for workaholism. Partly commendable.

- Well, not without that, – Rivet shrugged. Here came the coveted cocktail. She stirred the sweet drink with the straw so that the syrup wouldn't remain at the bottom of the glass and tapping the ice cubes, she took a big gulp. – Yummy... I love jogans. The juice, the pie, mwah, it's delicious, – but then she realized she was daydreaming a little bit. – Okay, pardon the small stuff. I've already forgotten where I heard it, but I definitely remember this phrase: «Freedom is slavery». I wish I knew where to go, but I'd rather be on my own. Should I go and race hoverboards in Blackwater City? I haven't heard from Phantom in a long time, but I believe they said he's been doing well since the war ended, so I could go to «Skidd McMarx's Sports Shack», too.

- An interesting example of a classic doublethink, – the AI noted.

Rivet would have paid much more attention to her electronic friend, but the footsteps she heard behind her, the tapping of metal every time she touched the floor, caused her to frown visibly. These steps, unfortunately, were familiar to her. «You sure know how to ruin a mood,» – she could barely contain herself from voicing her thoughts out loud.

However, when the old «acquaintance» frivolously seated himself on the bar stool at the side, it became very difficult to remain silent.

- Well, well, well, it's been a while, ma chérie**. – Pierre, the captain of the robot pirates, squinted at her. – This is quite a surprise; have you been following me again? You could have at least called rather than suffer the loneliness of talking to yourself.

Rivet only rolled her eyes. She had crossed paths with Pierre Le Fer, the «pirate and cavalier» as he called himself, more than once. And every time the wanderer on the stars invariably caught herself at the thought that his constant mannerisms, gruff voice, and tendency to switch to a French accent in the middle of a speech quickly evoked irritation.

- Do us all a favor, Pierre, get out of here, – Rivet demanded without further ado. – I'm not interested in talking to you.

- To whom then? Is it such a secret or is your humble servant asking too much? – He made a pretentious bow as he took off his hat and feather.

- Like me. I don't think asking someone to be left alone is immeasurably much to ask for.

The helmet's visor flashed blue at that moment, and the two small speakers built into the bottom turned on. The Prophet had also decided not to overlook Pierre's presence:

- I recommend that you leave, and fast, – the helmet muttered. – Move along, no one wants to talk to you, as you're not welcome here. I can offer the advice of a good sound checker.

Even Rivet uttered a half-voiced «Wow!». There were times, as in now, when the Prophet would respond in a very «lively» or impertinent manner. The line between his usual straightforward state and this manner of communication, bringing him closer to a more «lively» interlocutor, was extremely thin.

In any case, he succeeded in striking a chord with Pierre:

- Mon dieu**, I didn't know you had a new friend, but he doesn't seem to know his manners.

- Well, you're not too flashy either, – Rivet retorted quickly. – Did you run out of wax for your ship?

Rivet knew that even such a simple attack could annoy Pierre because of his vanity. It ended in a very «cheerful» scuffle last time, but it was no surprise to the brave wanderer to be challenged to a duel. And she also wouldn't be shocked if the pirate offered to try out not only his slanderous skills, but his combat skills as well.

That's how it turned out.

- Neither polish nor sharp blades have I outlived, ma chérie. I wonder how much sharper they are than your tongue.

- Yeah, I'd love to find out. I hope you've got a scrap fence on speed dial, because he'll be busy tonight, – Rivet replied without flinching a muscle in her face and jumped off the bar stool and immediately kneaded her left knuckles.

She was a quick learner, especially when it came to combat. In the troubled Outlands, one acquired such skills on short notice. Although Rivet did not consider herself a hunter or a fighter of the highest caliber, she wasn't afraid to stand up to Pierre and his crew without delay.

But there was one small «overlap» that stopped her - a reminder from Zurkie to her and Pierre:

- Fighting is forbidden in the pub! If your fists are itching, march into the arena!

- No problem, Zurkie, – Rivet nodded. – Give me a second to get my guns, and I'll be ready to make some noise.

- Yes, it's going to be a sight to behold, – Pierre said in agreement, pulling his hat almost as close as to his only functioning eye.

While the pair of «enemies» - and Rivet and Pierre competed more than they cooperated - made their way to the room where they deposited their weapons, Zurkie returned to the bar to use the microphone on the intercom screen to first instruct Zurkon Jr., who was known for his effervescent and charismatic way of commentating on arena fights, and then flew over to the other end, where one of the visitors, a man in a green vest and two prosthetic legs, approached.

- Well, where's that «golden pen» of yours, amigo?

- There's a snag, sir, but I assure you it won't be long.

On their way to the checkroom, Pierre was joined by a couple of his robot pirates, but they largely ignored Rivet and listened to Pierre, who was animatedly giving them their orders. The Prophet, meanwhile, assured that all the helmet's combat systems were already in combat mode, and a check of the jetpack's systems showed full combat readiness. It was even possible to fire a missile salvo if necessary - Rivet was sure that keeping such a beautiful «plushie» at the ready was very much worth it.

- A very interesting system you have, ma petite*** Rivet. – Pierre put his rapier away in its scabbard, but he remembered to reiterate his bravado. – But it can't compete with my new team.

- Don't worry, I have arguments for everything. – The lombax wasn't the least bit intimidated as she outfitted herself and turned on the basic systems of her jetpack. She had already prepared her trusty pulse pistols.

After double-checking her equipment, Rivet was the first to head for the arena entrance, which was accessed by a small corridor that bypassed the main room of the pub so armed patrons couldn't get in, and ended in a spacious balcony with panoramic windows and partially glazed flooring.

This balcony was divided into three sectors: the two large ones, flanked by spectators, and the central one was used by the combatants to enter the arena through an opening hatch - or with the help of a levitating platform.

Clicking on the «Participants» section of the rack that protruded from the floor with the screen on, Rivet put on her helmet, took one of her pistols in one hand and, after unlocking the safety, pressed «Engage».

It was as if the hard surface disappeared beneath her feet - a hatch opened, and Rivet literally fell into the arena. Fortunately, the Prophet started its engines almost immediately, and the appearance of the lombax in the arena was quite spectacular as she slowly descended into the arena, glancing around and saluting the eager audience.

And in the pub itself, the same man in green approached his partner, still carrying a raven on his forearm, but whose eyes were now fixed on the arena.

- Well, at least we can kill some time. Hopefully this will be something to look at.

- For once I agree with you.

Meanwhile over the arena, a small levitating platform levitated slowly with the commentator of all the local fights - a small robot called Zurkon Jr. For his distinctive appearance - a large head on a long thin neck and a relatively small boxy body with a coil of small thrust on the back - he was nicknamed «Tadpole».

- My maniacs, I welcome you to the colosseum of Zurkon Jr.! – the robot announced with his high, cracking voice, as if he was constantly munching on a vocalizer, through an activated microphone. – Are you ready to see a hurricane of passion, pain and suffering?Today the fearless warrior and inventor Rivet, who has decided to visit our wonderful establishment, will take on the new crew of robo-pirate XO Pierre Le Fer!

With that, several hatches opened at the arena end opposite Rivet, similar to the one through which she entered the field of the upcoming fight. But the sight of the entry who represented Pierre's team visibly made the lombax tense.

Seven dark brown droids with orange elements on their «forearms» and knee joints landed one by one from the arena hatches. Rivet had never seen one of these before: thin legs from the front, a torso narrow at the joint «pelvis», a small wedge-shaped head with a rounded outline, and white eyes that looked like a circle with a stripe in the center.

Almost all of them were armed with light laser rifles with folded butts, but three of them had vibroswords behind their backs. Very dangerous weapons, capable of inflicting serious damage with an ultrasonic vibration generator built into the handle.

- Targets identified, – the Prophet reported, outlining the silhouette of one of the adversaries in red. The visor of the helmet displayed a translucent frame with a brief description and enemy designation: «BX Series Commando Droid».

- I'm not even going to ask where Pierre got these guys, – Rivet gritted her teeth as she drew her second gun and stood at alert.

- A black market, most likely. Or maybe the looting of an abandoned warehouse.

- It doesn't matter right now.

Before the short siren sounded, additional sheets of laminated safety glass were lowered on all the observation decks in the bar itself, and the bleachers with chanting spectators hovering around the arena on low thrust engines were hidden behind a barely visible veil of deflector shields.

And as soon as the horn went off, Rivet gave a short burst and dashed for the nearest shelter - the arena was of the so-called «variable type», in a number of fights individual sections were raised in different parts of it, forming elevations and barriers. The droids instantly opened fire, and the air above lombax's head was scattered with a dozen and a half, if not two dozen laser pulses.

Pierre's crew may have had pirate firmware, but they almost immediately tried to take Rivet in their pincers - some tried to keep her away, others tried to go around from different angles.

- You have a new achievement, boys... – Rivet hissed through her teeth, peering out for a moment to send two more rounds at her adversaries. – Not even ten seconds have passed, and I already hate you.

So far, none of them managed to hit, but the lombax chose her target correctly - just those who tried to go around so as not to expose their heads to fire from an elevated position, the bursts from the pulse guns reached their targets. Another thing was that it wasn't always possible to incapacitate a droid - at least four or five of the energy bullets sparked one droid's chest plate, causing it to stagger, but it quickly returned to its firing stance and continued shooting.

- Okay, I get it, canisters, your armor's tough, – Rivet snarled.

- Tactical guidance, – the Prophet replied, displaying a silhouette of a droid with several red dots on it on the side of his visor. – These droids have no head, neck, or joint protection.

- Thank you.

Rushing out as her cover began to descend, Rivet began firing again and again at the commandos, who had come within near dagger range. One nearly succeeded in shredding her head, but collapsed to the floor like a rock.

- You caught the «bunny», you walking toaster, – she quipped as she continued her bombardment.

Two more managed to bruise their knee joints, rendering them unable to move quickly, and the fourth had his blaster rifle knocked out of his hands and damaged. The droid quickly realized that the weapon was incapacitated, so it grabbed the vibrosword from the magnetic mount on its back and dashed into close combat, surprising Rivet unpleasantly with its unusual leaping ability as if it were an acrobat of some sort.

It managed to dodge Rivet's bursts a few times and stepped within range of its sword. The lombax pulled back at the last moment, and the Prophet lowered the wings of the jetpack in time to prevent the droid from damaging the wingtips.

- What's with the high-powered battery? – Rivet snarled, trying to aim at the droid's head again, but it ducked to the side and then withstood several more hits. Meanwhile, with the rest of its comrades still firing, Rivet jumped as sharply as she could with the jetpack on her back, and when there was cover behind her again, she commanded the engine to turn on. With a sharp «hop», she jumped back from behind, and the saber-rattler only cleaved the air with its sword before taking a shot to the head.

- A ticket for speeding, – Rivet snorted, snuggling up against her shelter.

Two droids were damaged, three more remained. It wasn't the greatest force, but one could hardly call it a simple fight. The damaged ones wouldn't stop firing, two more decided to repeat the attempt of their predecessor and switched to the vibrosword, the other one took cover.

- Let's take out the «crawlers», – Rivet resolved. – It's been a long time since anyone's been frozen to the floor.

- Engaging tactical targeting and interaction with the environment, – the Prophet said.

However, before he could finish, Rivet discovered a small, but very serious problem in the combat conditions - judging by the indicator on her helmet visor, her two pistols were almost out of ammo.

- There's no fucking ammo! – New laser pulses whizzed past her ear, melted the edges of the shelter, and Rivet couldn't help swearing. With the droids drawing closer to her position with every passing second, she, unable to risk wasting her precious seconds reloading, slipped the pistols behind her belt and drew her «Peacemaker».

As her hiding place began to descend again, Rivet jumped to the edge of it a moment before it was level with the floor, turned on her engine for a second so she could «hop up» and fire a shot from the air. The powerful laser beam literally ripped out the vibrosword droid's arm and disarmed it, but even in this «sintered» state, the enemy still tried to jump to shorten the distance and almost grabbed Rivet by the edge of her cuirass, but ended up getting a knockout blow from her prosthetic arm. With barely enough time to clang the trigger of her shotgun, Rivet dashed to the side to avoid being cut up by the swinging blow. The droid had a distinct advantage in speed, striking again before Rivet had time to aim her weapon at it, and she had to set up her shotgun as a crossbar. The impact was very, very significant: The arms were bent at the elbows and there was a large pothole on the fore-end under the barrel, but both the «Peacemaker» and the lombax remained intact: shoving the droid back and knocking it off-balance, Rivet blew its head off by shooting at the neck segment.

- Phew, that was a close call. – She could barely catch her breath. It also gave her a few precious seconds to reload her weapon. Just in case, a new charging cartridge took up space in the «Peacekeeper's» magazine as well.

Now all that was left to do was to finish off the remaining droid with the rifle and the two with broken legs.

- Bonjour, toaster! – Rivet called out, soaring over the arena and waving from side to side. When she chose the right moment, she abruptly straightened her right arm: A small flap opened on the top of my forearm, from which a built-in linemaker came out, shooting out a small hook, followed by a blue and white energy cable.

Taking advantage of the target set up by the Prophet, Rivet hit the droid in the shoulder with her hook.

- Angard! – the militant girl shouted menacingly, and immediately set the tether reeling. The droid was lifted off the ground, and the two rivals moved swiftly toward each other. It was what Rivet was counting on: she unhooked the cable at the last moment, and pulled her prosthetic arm back to smash her fist into the droid's faceplate with all her might. Sparks flew from its neck and eyes, indicating it was out of commission.

But that wasn't the end of the prosthetic's surprises: when the jetpack went into hover mode, Rivet, soaring precisely above the damaged droids, extended her right arm forward again, but this time the small plates above her wrist rose to the vertical position, and the shock shells that scattered the air in several thin plumes came out of the slots beneath them. Nevertheless, those electric «mosquitoes» were enough to fry the two remaining commandos' electronics.

- Impressive, – praised the Prophet.

- Merci, – Rivet grinned, trying to imitate a French accent, as she removed the engine's thrust and lowered herself to the arena floor. After catching her breath, she examined her prosthesis with satisfaction - it's not just a «golden grip». Pierre should see how she chopped fruit...

- Shame on you! – the applause of the crowd was suddenly cut off by Pierre, who was broadcasting from... the observation platform, where representatives of one of the opposing sides could be stationed. – If I had entered the arena, we would have won by now!

- Pierre has some interesting logic, – the voice of the faithful AI echoed in the helmet. – Why doesn't he come out himself? This is either cowardice or a very big ego.

- Or both, – Rivet rolled her eyes. – Pirates will always be pirates.

- I would fight you myself, but you must first prove that you're worthy of me! – Pierre added arrogantly.

As Zurkon Jr. once again floated over the arena on his levitating platform, announcing the speedy start of the second round, Rivet and the pirate battle droids in the pub continued to monitor the fight. More precisely, many people were watching what was happening, but a minimum of two were observing the small but incredibly perky and fearless warrior with special interest:

- I think if I fought like that, I'd be hearing from you all night, hermana*, that there was no system in my strokes and I hit at random, – the man in the green vest said, trying for once to mimic his partner's speech in a caustic manner.

- Maybe, – she slowly said in response, pausing for a moment without turning around. As if in agreement with her, the raven on her shoulder turned its head and cawed. – But I can't... I guess I can't say that now.

- Then what can you do? About her, for instance. She was recommended to me as a mechanic, and it turns out she can do more.

- She's a little bit rough, but... not without a spark.

Meanwhile, the short siren blared over the arena again. This time Rivet held a reloaded «Peacekeeper» at the ready. When the small gates on the opposite side opened, she realized that even with a blaster she would have to be even tougher, as a line of five commandos, covered by energy dew shields, entered the arena.

Following them, two larger droids moved slowly on what looked like spider legs, with a round head topped by two eye-like photoreceptors and a mosquito-like long-barreled cannon. The Prophet immediately scanned the new opponents, identifying them as DSD1 dwarf spider droids.

- The «tadpole» is watching us, – Rivet said, feeling a new wave of tension all over her body. – Ready, Rocky?

- Always ready, – the Prophet instantly responded.

The commandos immediately opened fire with their phasers, their barrels peering through the yellowish glow of the energy shield. Rivet's retaliatory salvo from the «Peacemaker», however, failed to penetrate that defense. The lombax immediately turned on the thrusters in an emergency, first hovering and then flying as fast as she could within the arena.

The spiders immediately opened fire, their «nose» cannons roaring and their charges thudding against the fortified walls of the arena, several shots engulfing the deflectors of the spectators' bleachers. With two more volleys, Rivet managed to hit one of the spiders in the «eye», but that only took it out of the fight for a few moments: the remaining photoreceptor had already captured the target.

Trying to evade fire, Rivet increased her thrust, whistling over the commando formation exactly between the spiders and making a «candle» all the way to the arena ceiling.

Rivet had only seen spider droids in rare reports before, as well as a few other occasions - in recycling areas and a couple of secure facilities, where they were something of a sentry turret. Here, in the arena, one of these droids' flaws was revealed: the cannon was rigidly attached to the hull, and to aim horizontally the entire droid had to turn, and it did so slowly. The spiders simply couldn't keep up with the lombax, skittering in and out of the sides and overhead.

The commandos, on the other hand, were not affected by this disadvantage. Like warriors from a distant past, they stood in a square so that their shields covered them from the front, sides, and even the top - several droids stood in the center of their improvised circle and raised their shields.

- I can't even tell if my microwave is smarter than theirs, they're as smart as they come, – Rivet hissed as she spiraled through the air.

- A frontal attack is highly discouraged, – the Prophet cautioned.

- Thanks, Cap, if that's the case. Ouch! – The lombax was indignant, but two laser pulses hit the left wingtip and the left side of the hull, and it was a miracle that it didn't disrupt the important engine systems. – You bastards, my wings just came off the test drive, and you're already throwing your shit at them. Ugh... Okay, Rocky, I've got a better surprise for them. Prepare the hack module.

- Copy that.

Having temporarily ceased fire, Rivet now concentrated only on continuing to loop in the air, turning sharply sideways, descending dramatically, and then conversely making «candles» while the Prophet started to hack the control system of one of the spiders. It took what felt like an eternity to Rivet: you had to get around the firewall, which even in the pirate firmware wasn't new, but was simple enough to hack at the snap of your fingers.

The Prophet nevertheless accomplished its mission: the spider-droid froze in place for a few seconds, its photoreceptors blinked several times, and then it was finally taken over by the lombax AI duo.

Now it was up to Rivet: the Prophet turned on her targeting on the operator's view, and she set two key points - the commando's carriage and the second spider. Obeying the new command, the droid rearranged its legs and shot the commandos' shields into the wall. Three droids were destroyed at once, two were thrown back and their shields knocked out of their hands, and the last one was left barely functioning, with no legs and only one arm.

The busted droid switched to its «spider» counterpart, the first volley ripping its hull apart where its gun was attached, and the second punched a hole of considerable size, which was surrounded by an uneven red circle of molten metal.

But the remaining commandos had yet to be dealt with: picking out one of the survivors, Rivet spun on him like a ravenous pterosaur, avoiding the impact of the vibrosword whizzing over her head. Grabbing the droid by the thin «transition» between the pelvic joint and the «torso», Rivet dragged her foe a few meters and spiraled several times before making another spiral and hurling the droid down with force, so that it slammed into the wall and instantly shut down.

The second survivor tried to grab the blaster and shot at Rivet several times, but she fired back, only this time she hit his rifle instead of his shoulder. Grabbing the weapon from her opponent's hands, she spun it around and put it right in front of the droid's head. It knocked his head off like a battering ram.

- That's it, that's the doobie, mate, – Rivet grinned as she looked at the legless one-armed droid trying to crawl over, then flashed a satisfied grin. After first kicking the enemy in the head - her boots were stiff enough to keep even kicking metal from hurting - she only turned her back on him and fired up the engine in afterburner mode. A jet shot out of the nozzle directly at the doomed droid, inflicting enough thermal damage to render the commando incapacitated.

- Your face looks much better now, – Rivet quipped, looking at the droid's soot-covered remains. – I'd rather knock the «tadpole» out. But what am I saying, he's out of the way, we can't take him with us.

- Whatever you say, Rivet, – the Prophet replied.

The droids had one other feature, in addition to spider legs and a rigidly mounted cannon - a self-destruct mechanism. The Prophet initiated the necessary program, and soon the droid's photoreceptor lenses burst like overripe fruit, erupting a sheaf of sparks like a thermite grenade, followed by a dense puff of smoke. The support drives shut down, and the droid collapsed to the floor, as if the support cables had been cut.

Once again, the rows of spectators were brought to life with applause and cheers of support for the champion, and several screens above the soaring stands displayed an image that looked like an action movie poster or a flashy banner: a freeze frame of Rivet kicking the defeated droid in the head, all framed in style and with a filter applied to make it look like a drawing or a shot from an old movie. All that was missing was a catchy nickname or headline, if it was indeed going to be a poster.

But the fight wasn't over yet, and the third and final round was about to be announced by Zurkon Jr. who appeared on his platform:

- Whoo-hoo-hoo, yes! Ladies and gentlemen, it's been ages since we've seen such dynamic battles! Rivet here sure knows how to entertain! – The little commentator circled around Rivet. – But all of you loyal spectators must remember the golden rule of the arena: Many enter, one exits! – After a short pause, the robot began laughing wickedly, as if he were a typical villain. – Let's see if her rival Pierre has anything to surprise her with!

When the gate on the opposite side of the arena opened again, Rivet stood up again: holding one arm out in front of her like a crossbar, she used it as a support for the «Peacemaker», who she held with the other hand while keeping her finger on the thrust control of the jetpack engine.

Her large, sensitive ears picked up a growing noise on the other side, as if something was rolling into the arena at full throttle... Yes, it was most certainly something metal or heavy moving at a high speed.

The noise of metal grew louder and louder until, much to Rivet's horror, as many as five droidekas sprang into the arena, the sight of which must have made Rivet shudder, even in places she never imagined she could move. Perhaps the last thing she wanted to encounter was a droideka, remembered by good half of the Outer Lands as a wheel droid or a destroyer droid, but to Rivet they were remembered by another, more appropriate moniker:

- «Rolling Death»! – she exclaimed, quickly putting away her shotgun and turning on the hover mode.

After circling around the edge of the arena, the droidekas went into combat mode: three pointed, bug-like legs extended, and the three lights on their flat head video sensors glowed red. The twin blasters, two on each arm, extended into the firing position and the droids were covered in the shimmering blue bubble that was their force shield, while the rolling noise they made was replaced by their blasters in what looked like a machine-gun barrage.

Rivet barely had time to fire one salvo from the «Peacemaker» and get down behind the extended shelter, which was now coming under frantic fire from two dozen barrels. She had no hope at all of sticking out to either the left or the right.

- Who the hell gave Pierre a «rolling death»! Who gave him the keys to the safe! – Rivet shouted, barely catching her breath. And then the configuration of the arena began inadvertently changing: the shelter behind which the girl was hiding was lowered, but the two droidekas were raised to higher ground and they continued firing, like turrets in a watchtower.

Rivet turned on full throttle and went into flight mode, spiraling and swerving even more actively, maneuvering among the endless streams of lasers. Unlike spiders, droidekas had far fewer limitations on horizontal and vertical angles, and the shield made it impossible to approach them.

- It looks like we have no choice but missiles, – the Prophet said as he scanned the new enemies. – Only heavy weapons and explosives will work against the demolition droids.

There wasn't much to choose from, Rivet nodded, but she also had to assess the situation:

- We just need to find a moment when they're on the same level, let them form a group!

She was down to the maximum height possible, with her wings barely scratching the floor, and flying between the lowering elevations, the two droidekas failed to stop firing before they hit the energy shields of their allies: the attacked droidekas backed away, as if they had been hit by a fire hose.

Rivet had to do a few more loops in the air and a few more signs from other alphabets before the droidekas, without stopping their fire, finally shifted so that they almost stood in a line and were within striking range.

- Now's our chance! – Rivet exclaimed. On the visor of her helmet, a diagram of the suit appeared on the side. The missile units were circled in a thick white line, and two «Ready» marks appeared next to it.

- The missile salvo is ready, – the AI said.

- Three, two, one... Go!

After removing the engine thrust from horizontal to vertical, Rivet spun around like a figure skater doing a pirouette and turned to face the droidekas. Brackets extended over each shoulder, each carrying an elongated rectangular container.

The angle of the upper stabilizers had changed to almost touching the ends, forming a triangle with a flattened top above Rivet's head, and the rockets, six in each block, began to fly out of the containers themselves. At first there was the distinctive «thump, thump, thump, thump!» that was vaguely akin to a blaster shot - the dodge charge released the missiles from their rails, and a few meters from the launcher their engine was turned on, and the missiles, leaving whitish plumes behind them with a piercing whistle, rushed up into the air.

- Fox-3, the package has been sent, – the Prophet announced.

The missiles soared into the air and instantly changed course, raining down on the droidekas, breaking the cacophony of fire with a series of explosions that merged into one deafening boom. The missiles, while seemingly small, were powerful enough to penetrate a droideka's defenses: the first explosions overloaded the shield generator, which quickly burned out and shut down, leaving the formidable unit vulnerable.

Droid debris and heated fragments were flying all around the arena - the explosives in the rockets went off on both sides, the bow and the end, the detonation waves met and the fragments, getting very hot, gained more acceleration.

As soon as the explosions subsided and the smoke cleared, Rivet slowly descended - her helmet sensors, which the Prophet had activated, showed zero activity, none of the droids had survived the missile salvo.

- Wow! Now that's what I call a big bada-boom! Ha-ha-ha! – the lombax burst out laughing. – Fox-3, you say?

- Standard troop code for a missile strike sent to the target, – the Prophet succinctly replied.

- That's awesome, but I'd go with a longer, but no less awesome name. How about «Rocket Swarm»?

- I have no objection.

- What are we seeing here?! This fight has ended in an unqualified victory for Rivet! – A hovering platform emerged from beneath the deflector, from which Zurkon Jr., satisfied with another battle, began to broadcast. – Rejoice, maniacs, rejoice!

And the audience did rejoice: throwing their hands into the air, whistling as loud as their lungs allowed, chanting Rivet's name and an enthusiastic «Hurrah!».

Among those cheering was the man in the green vest - he couldn't seem to sit still at all, repeating over and over again: «Ho-ho-ho-ho, amazing!».

His companion was much more reserved, but she, too, was impressed by the small but very brave and capable warrior who had taken off her helmet to look at the screen. Maybe she too is favored by the gods and the All father himself...

Rivet wasn't even the least bit surprised that Pierre himself was slow to come out blade to blade - it was quite in his style, «Lots of words, not much action, and sometimes even less sense». She was just glad that she had won all three rounds and had put Le Fer's team and ego to shame.

Leaving her jetpack and weapons in the checkroom, the smiling lombax returned to the pub, where she was again greeted with applause: most of the pub's customers were happy, except for Pierre, his team, and those who had bet on his droids. Zurkie greeted Rivet in an extremely upbeat mood and presented her with a large glass of mulled wine, accompanied by a succinct: «It's on the house!».

She sat down, placed her helmet on the bar, and sighed in relief: now she could relax and enjoy some delicious, mulled wine that invited her with the beautiful aroma of honey and spices. But even though she wanted to unwind, she only had time to take two sips before she was interrupted again, and this time it wasn't Pierre or anyone from his crew.

A continuously giggling man in green jumped onto the side of the chair, causing Rivet to choke. Good thing the drink was already headed down her gullet by that point.

- Ho-ho, I've said it before, but it was still a hoot, niña! – the skinny guy blurted out as he patted her on the shoulder. Rivet raised an eyebrow as she glanced at him: her knowledge of human appearance was by no means perfect, but this weirdo could have been mistaken for a woman had it not been for the side shaved hair and the small beard around his chin and lips. The green hair at the tips bobbed slightly to the side. His left ear was topped with three earrings. A scar ran across his left eyebrow, and there was the faintest trace of a mask around his eyes. A green body armor protected his chest, but his stomach was exposed. Rivet was a little embarrassed by this, but she didn't consider herself a prude - it was just that she didn't see such an eccentric outfit every day and on every corner.

- Whoa-whoa, put a hold on the tsunami! – The lombax crawled back in her chair. – You can't be so quick to pounce on strangers, you moron!

- You'll have to forgive him, the gods give people power and energy, but they don't give them control over it, – a redheaded girl wearing red glasses was the second voice Rivet heard as she sat on the other side of her. Three vertical red lines crisscrossed her face, the first from her forehead to the tip of her nose, the other two on her cheeks. Rivet noticed, too, that her chin, cheeks, and, to a lesser extent, cheekbones, were covered in grayish-blue marks, probably from some old chemical burn, similar to raindrops on glass.

There was a red gas mask around her neck with two tubes going behind her back. Her brown outfit -a medium-length cloak with a fur-trimmed collar and baggy pants - was clearly made of leather. The shoulder pads were slightly thicker than the rest of her armor, with metal plates padded on top and the same plates covering her kneecaps. A pair of small pouches hung from her belt, perhaps serving as ammunition pouches. Under her cape was what looked like a green bulletproof vest. And some areas of the uniform were wrapped in bandages and various rags.

- I can see that, – she frowned. – I'm sorry, but he's like one of those horror movie screamers, and I was just about to kick his face in.

Rivet might have wanted to stay angry now, for the people around here could be very strange: one was jumpy, like he'd drained three cups of espresso this morning, and while his partner seemed calmer, she still had a strange pre-fight look on her face.

But she had traveled enough to know when it was worth doing legwork or exercise in verbal dueling. This odd couple clearly hadn't come to mug her. At least, that's what her intuition told her.

- Look, if you're looking for an autograph...

- No, no, no, no! – the man quickly spoke up, grinning. – No argument, you blew those tin cans away - my homage. Cool jet, by the way.

- I'm flattered, – Rivet nodded, taking another sip of mulled wine. – After assembling and testing it, I simply wanted to celebrate its successful flight here, but it turned into a battle reconnaissance.

- And the test proved a great success, child. – The girl who spoke next almost drove Rivet to the point that the latter almost choked, gazing into her reflection in the glass afterwards. She sometimes thought she looked younger than she was, but was that really the case? – We were very much impressed with your fight. You showed the courage of a Valkyrie on the battlefield.

- I'd prefer a vigor worthy of a dozen tin snakes, – Rivet chuckled, trying to smile. – Who are you guys, anyway? I just want some rest, is all...

- Well, if you answer first, – the guy snapped his fingers. – I can give you... whatever you want, niña, as an apology for the intrusion. – He was quiet for a moment, as if he had talked too much and didn't know what else to say, and then he got up and held out his hand to her. – Oh, I'm sorry. Octavio Silva, or Octane to friends and subscribers, – he pointed to himself with both thumbs.

- Rivet, – after a little hesitation, Rivet replied, extending her hand in return and getting a fairly firm handshake with her new acquaintance. – Just Rivet. Are you, like, the star of the intergalactic network?

- It would be better to let her tell you what I do in life with my friends. – Octane was clearly trying to appear modest, but by the fact that he was almost constantly smiling, it seemed as though he was dragging his feet, or socializing. – But, going forward, – he began moving his fingers across the table to portray a running figure. – I'll tell you this: I do it for the thrill of it all. The fans are just a nice bonus.

Rivet just nodded, not daring to object. Even though the new acquaintance's sparkling look and his equally «bright» way of getting acquainted were still a little embarrassing... he had no desire to stop talking to her. Neither did the woman who had been looking at her the whole time.

- I'm Blod Hundr, but you can call me Bloodhound, – she also introduced herself. Rivet was only slightly confused by her strange way of speaking, as if she were a warrior of a bygone era, or a sage from a distant world. But Blod Hundr looked young by human standards. – A hunter sent down by the gods.

- And the best tracker in all the Outlands, I'll give you that, – Octane lively added.

- But it's hard for me to tell what kind of wonderful beast you are, Rivet. – With a slight smile, Bloodhound folded her fingers together in a «house», gazing intently at her furry companion. – All I can say is that you're young, very young even. And well-built.

Rivet could already feel her cheeks starting to burn, so she raised both palms in a «stop» gesture and, smiling from ear to ear, gibbered at first:

- Whoa, whoa, don't go making guesses. When it's done without malice, I find myself embarrassed, – After taking a big sip of mulled wine to calm down, she laid out the main thing her new acquaintances needed to know about her. – I'm a lombax. Although I've been compared to a fox. But that's okay, a common mistake.

She laughed with her companions and took another large sip of the warm drink before pausing.

- You think she's a better storyteller? – she followed with a question to Octane. He nodded affirmatively, muttering «Sí»** almost immediately. – Then, first of all, I'll take your word for it. Get me, yourself, and Bloodhound a pack of Mantlemix.

- No problem. – He immediately gave me a thumbs-up and called out to Zurkie.

- Second... – Rivet moved her glass slightly to the side, folded her fingers into a «lock», and turned back to Bloodhound. – To what do I owe the honor of your attention?

While Octane was literally spouting words, as if he enjoyed them in some way, the huntress, whose raven, incidentally, flapped its wings over Rivet's head and sat on her mistress' shoulder, was more straightforward, though with an unusual manner of speech:

- We decided to get up for a little repair, our ship, as Mirage, a friend of Octane's, said it needs to be patched up. But I'm a pathfinder, not a mechanic. Yes, I used to be attracted to machines, but figuratively speaking, I don't communicate with them.

- So you want me to help you with the repairs?

- Of course. And we won't hurt you for it, we'd give you what you asked for in return, but...

- «But» what?

- You have proven yourself very worthy in the arena. The All father has given you an inquisitive mind, through which you have gathered your wings, considerable courage and boldness to emerge victorious in battle. These are also qualities that are very much needed on our team, Rivet. On behalf of our little army, I would like to invite you to join us.

It was an interesting offer, to say the least, and Rivet perked her ears. And then Octane brought a cardboard tray of mantlemixes, deliciously sweet crunchies of airy rice grown on Demeter. By and large, Rivet had very few friends - she could count them on the fingers of her healthy hand, and here was an interesting company who hadn't yet warmed her up, trying to challenge her to a second duel in the arena. «Either I have already twisted myself so much that I can see a catch everywhere, or they really are of the «good» variety. Well, I'll put my wariness on hold and see what else they have to offer» – Rivet decided, crunching on a couple of the sweet balls.

- Are you the military? No offense, I just don't like them much. It's more fun to organize my life on my own.

- Oh, no, that's not who we are, amiga, – Octane assured her, nudging her lightly on the arm with his elbow. – We're heroes for hire. It might sound bad, but we help those who ask for it. Surely you're familiar with the war in the Outlands, right?

- Yeah, I've read the reports and listened to stories in places like this in my spare time. I was born in the year they declared a truce between the Corporate Alliance and the Commonwealth of the Outlands.

- It's funny. They've stopped shooting at each other, but many planets and colonies are still being rebuilt: some of them have half their buildings destroyed and no way to fix what they need, and some are being harassed by pirates and the mafia. That's why my friend El decided that we should help those in need...

- El, is that Mirage?

- Uh-huh.

- So you respond to help and then ask for a... um... responsiveness award?

- Is there a problem, niña? – Octane arched an eyebrow. – Altruism is a noble thing, but our ship can't go anywhere without fuel, some of the space routes aren't the smoothest, we need parts for something, and if pirates or something worse comes along, why shouldn't we just kick them with our fists? I think it's a fair enough requirement.

- It makes sense in principle, – Rivet nodded. – So, it's a lot of work?

- It depends. I've been asked to drop off medicine, and I've saved hostages a few times. Sometimes we'd play smugglers, shut down the major routes, and sneak in water and food. If it got quiet, we would look for scientists; botanists would always do something to help and pay a decent wage.

- I joined Octane and Mirage to protect them from their own arrogance, – Bloodhound added. – There are interesting ways to put your vanity to good use, and believe me, Mirage loves attention. He often forgets to be cautious, though. To spare you the boredom, I won't even talk about Octane.

- Ha! – he interrupted her. – She often says that we're looking for danger in our heads, but she forgets another «but»: I'm always faster, believe me.

- Coming from someone who, without ceasing, declares that he blew up his own feet.

- Excuse me? – Rivet squinted, leaning back slightly to look down. She noticed only now that her new acquaintance had prosthetic legs, both below the knee. The feet were not quite anatomically correct, but rather angular, made of a correspondingly shaped plate.

- That's crazy. If you saw someone with those, you'd think a cyborg had arrived, and your inner brick factory would be producing a year's worth of product.

- Heh, that's a good one. – Octane snapped his fingers with a smile. – I won't speak for others, but for me, when it comes down to it, it's just perfect. Just imagine, – he suddenly turned his back to the counter by rotating his chair around with his hand around Rivet's shoulder and moving the other in front of him. – Wind in your ears, artillery in your hands, steel in your feet.

- You're quite the philosopher, – Rivet replied with a hint of embarrassment, taking his hand off her shoulder.

- Or in the hand. The hand is cool, by the way, it looks great. A cool hand for a cute owner.

Rivet felt the blood rush to her cheeks again. This Octane was very strange, but fun in his own way. At least he'd cheer her up since he wasn't boring.

She still didn't know how much she could trust this group, but in the fact that she could, the lombax was reasonably sure of something. As the saying goes, more of a «Yes» than a «No». After all, it wasn't her first time taking a risk - she had taken her chances leaving her homeworld of Sargasso to venture into places she'd only heard tales about. Would this Bloodhound look out for her as well, keep her from losing her other arm?

- Okay. – Rivet patted the counter lightly and exhaled, shaking her head skeptically. – I'll see what I can do.

- Great! – Octane rejoiced. – Now we've got a cool tech on the team who can kick some ass, too!

- I'm just in no particular hurry, – Rivet shrugged as she took her mug to finish her mulled wine, which was starting to get cold. – So... why not?

- Don't worry, you won't regret it. We'll do useful things, and there'll definitely be room on the ship.

- Heh, if I like it, I'll move my blanket and pajamas over from my own.

- You have your own ship?

- Uh-huh. «Ophelia», UT-60D «U-wing».

- Then it's on fire!

They didn't stay at the counter for long - there wasn't much mulled wine left in the glass, and Rivet quickly finished it, smiling and noting how delicious the drink was. Thanking Zurkie for the treat, Rivet waved goodbye, grabbed her helmet, and followed her new acquaintances after asking them to lead her to the right boarding box.

But before going directly to the ship, the newly formed trio had to retrieve their weapons: Bloodhound had a «Longbow» sniper rifle and a pair of black metal axes, while Octane had a bowie knife, which he twirled in his hand and stowed in his belt pocket, and a «Volt» submachine gun.

Rivet had time to chat some more with Octane on the way. Or rather, she unwittingly found a reason to do so - she noticed that Octane had the phrase «Plus Ultra» printed in black letters on the inside of his left hand. Flattered by his new friend's powers of observation, Octane vividly explained that this was his life motto, which he interpreted roughly as «Further Beyond» or «Pushing the Limits». A fitting motto for a daredevil like himself. Plus, he added that the full phrase was «Non terrae plus ultra».

They talked a little about where they came from: Rivet briefly explained that she was from Sargasso, and what kind of environment she grew up in; Blod Hundr was from Talos, but there was a terrible accident that killed her parents, and she grew up with an uncle named Arthur.

On the other hand, the next «backstory», to put it bluntly, put Rivet in a daze. The first part was already «promising»: the golden boy, the son of a pharmaceutical company director, very successful, except that the only thing that could entertain Octavio was performing very risky stunts, which became more and more reckless with time. So one day Octavio decided to «blow the minds» of all his fans by crossing the finish line... with a grenade blast.

- And in the end, instead of blowing the tower off, he tore his legs off. – Rivet gave a look that read something like: «You're either crazy, or you're lucky to be alive. I didn't think boredom could lead to this...».

- Yeah, creepy, I know, – Octavio reluctantly nodded, then popped forward and walked with his back to Rivet. – But I was only bruised, not dead, which meant anything was still possible, so I mentally said to the old woman with the scythe, «Swim there, scythe!», and then persuaded my good friend to give me a hand. And voila, I was ready to conquer new heights again.

- How brave of you... – Rivet was the only one to reply. After a brief pause, as Octane faced forward again, she turned to Bloodhound, grinned, and with a dash of humor added: – My tail feels, so I'll tag along.

With that conversation, the party quickly made their way to the right boarding box. It turned out that Rivet and the «heroes for hire» crew had parked their ships right next to each other: they came to the third boarding booth.

Almost immediately, the lombax was impressed: almost in the center of the box was a ship that looked twice as big as Rivet's Ophelia: forty-eight meters long, with a spindle-like, angular hull ending in a long triangular prow, decorated with an emblem in the form of a star composed of triangles. The wings seemed a third or half the length of the hull, rectangular, like a perfectly trimmed board, but in front were joined to the hull by triangular «transitions». Closer to the base of the wings and aft were the engines, assembled with three nacelles per wing. On the roof of the hull, where these «transitions» to the wings began, an astrodome with a machine gun was visible.

Somewhere on the hull, the old numeric-letter codes used in the civilian space fleet were visible, but this ship had a military «bone» to it. Not immediately, but Rivet remembered seeing one of these on Bracca and whistled with admiration when she recognized it as a «Star Mace bomber».

- Wow. That's quite impressive, – Rivet said, stopping in front of the starboard side over the end of the wing.

- Gracias, this pretty boy got us out of so much trouble. – Octane thanked her, and then yelled out. – Hey, El! Come down here, we've got company.

Rivet and Octane and Bloodhound couldn't be seen from where they were standing, but a small technical hatch was open next to the machine gun point, which made the call audible. On the underside of the hull, the protective flaps first opened and then a gangway lowered, and Silva and Hundr's partner, a tall man with a thick beard and wavy hair that was brushed on the left side and cut short on the right, descended to the arrivals.

His forehead was covered by yellow and red polarized goggles, the strap of which was an improvised cartridge case, because it held pistol ammunition. A checkered scarf with gray and greenish squares covered his neck. He wore a yellow flight suit with a couple of patches of duct tape on his stomach and thigh, and a black graphite vest with a few pockets on his torso. The same color was the belt with a couple of pouches on the waist and wristbands from his elbow to his wrist. Three more pouches were attached just above his boots around his shin.

In addition, his arms, from the middle of his forearm to his shoulders, were studded with puck-like devices of incomprehensible purpose to Rivet, attached to short support rods. His knees were protected by black kneepads, and on his left thigh was a gray triangular plate with a square of black and yellow cells.

- Hey, you found us some tech support after all, brother, and a pretty one at that, – the man smiled brightly and, with arms outstretched, walked down the stairs to Rivet and her new friends. – Who's this? – He looked at Rivet with another smile.

- El, this is Rivet, – Octane introduced her. – You missed a real show, she was all over the arena, and according to the pub owner, she's a hell of a technician, too.

- If so, that's wonderful, – El nodded approvingly, then added, in a slightly disgruntled tone, – Though you could have asked me to watch the fight, but that's all right. – His attention shifted back to Rivet, to whom he leaned over and held out his hand. – Allow me to introduce myself, Elliott Witt, but many people I have had the privilege of helping remember me as Mirage, but Elliott is fine, too.

- Nice to meet you, Mr. Witt, – Rivet greeted him. – Your friend has already introduced me, so I won't repeat it. – She took her helmet with both hands and held it in front of her. – There's an artificial intelligence within this helmet called the «Prophet», so don't be surprised if I start talking to someone while wearing it.

- Hello, Mr. Witt. – To confirm her words, the AI turned the speakers on, causing Mirage to utter an astonished «Wow».

- Whoa, you got one of those, too! – Octane entered the conversation. – Why didn't your friend say something earlier?

- Forgive my lack of courtesy, Mr. Silva. I was monitoring the situation, and when I decided that my operator was safe, I went into standby mode.

- Ha-ha, you can just go with Octane, amigo.

- Pleased to meet you, voice of help. – Bloodhound came closer as well.

- Pleased to meet you, Miss Hundr.

- Okay, it's cool that we all know each other now, – Rivet took the floor again. – But I kind of already got a verbal invitation to be a flight engineer, so could you show me where the old guy is and what's hurting him?

- Yes, yes, the ship is not the newest, but it does its job, – Mirage assured. – He's not handsome, but he's solid. – Witt stepped aside from the gangway and motioned for Rivet to come over. – Welcome aboard, Rivet.

The gangway brought Rivet and the crew to the small but not too cramped central cabin, where the lombax was greeted by a polished board of silvery gray metal on which was printed in neat letters, probably autogenous, the welcome inscription: «Welcome aboard the «Conté di Cavour».

The wall around this board was decorated with... posters of all three members of the team. Perhaps the humblest of all was Bloodhound, crouched on one knee, scrupulously searching the ground, probably for enemy or prey tracks.

Next was the poster that Mirage had clearly dedicated to himself: with a sly expression on his face, he was showing the audience, with one palm removed, a miniature figure of himself standing on the other palm. It was only because the middle of it was interrupted by a blue flicker, like an interference pattern, that Rivet surmised was a hologram. At the bottom was an imitation of a roast target, again in the form of Mirage himself, with several bullet marks, and round targets on both sides.

He was followed by Octane, with his legs spread wide apart, his arms bent at the elbows, and his index finger and pinky outstretched on both hands. A «goat» gesture, in a word, and very much like Octavio himself.

- Mira**, check out this banner in my honor! – Octavio came along. – I bet they'll soon do the same to you.

- If you don't scare me to death by then, – Rivet exhaled. – You just popped out of the box.

- I'm sorry.

- Wait for us in the kitchen while we go to check on the engines, – Mirage said, nodding to Octane to the passage between the cabins at the front, and gestured for Rivet to follow him to the stern of the ship.

- Wait a minute, do you have a place to leave your suit? – the woman quickly asked.

- Let's look in the hold, it's on the way.

In the next compartment, where Rivet almost scraped her wings against the walls, was a large weapon cabinet, boxes of ammunition and weapons repair kits, and containers of all kinds of protective equipment. And by the wall itself there, considerable in size... a cannon container was rigidly fixed.

But there was a workbench and winch in the next compartment, where Rivet could hang her jetpack and leave her helmet and Peacemaker.

- Elliott, how did you get your hands on a vehicle like this? – Rivet, almost turning to «Mr. Witt», wondered. – It's a military model, unless I'm mistaken.

- Right, the TB-91 tactical bomber, the «Star Mace». These have been in use since the beginning of the war in the Outlands, – Mirage said with a nod. – It was one of the most popular models used by the alliance, but when they lost, a huge amount of military equipment became useless. Some were disassembled, of course, while others were disarmed and handed over to civilian agencies. My mother was just working in an office where these birds were re-equipped and sold like pies. So I managed to get one of them through a lot of lies and cover-ups. Then we had a couple of successful cases with Octane and scraped together the money for a roof-mounted machine gun and a cannon, so there would be at least some kind of arsenal. Statewide, from what I read, they had a gun carriage with built-in cannons plus two turrets with machine guns on the wings for protection. But when I first went to fly this thing, it didn't have any of that stuff.

Finally, they came to the engineering compartment, the walls of which were painted in a typical gray metallic hue, the lighting was provided by two white lamps, there were several shields, screens and indicators on the walls, and to the left and right were hatches, above which was a white triangular sticker with a red frame, prescribing to work only with safety equipment.

- In a nutshell, the engines on the left wing began to malfunction. The thrust dropped a lot when we were flying in the atmosphere or kicking it off with the afterburner, – Witt outlined. – The last time we entered the atmosphere, we were alarmed when the fuel supply dropped a couple of times, and the mysterious white smoke didn't look particularly pleasant.

After listening to him, Rivet frowned slightly. The narrative was somewhat vague, but it suggested several possibilities for the problem. All that remained was to examine the engine and narrow down the solution to the issue.

- Maybe the injectors were slowing down? – she suggested. – Or something happened to the injectors for the fuel to run around the working area and reduce the heat. Open the hatch so I can take a look, and we'll find out.

- If you say so. – Gesturing «Okay», Mirage opened the left hatch, behind which a small staircase opened, and Rivet descended into a special technical manhole.

Octane was probably the one who would have been most comfortable here, since he was the skinniest of the three. Rivet had to bend over to squeeze her way in, lighting the way with a flashlight from her pocket.

- Which engine is malfunctioning?

- Fourth, the one closest to you.

- Okay, let me see.

Out of the half-light, created only by the faint red lights, came a special latch with indentations for fingers. They were used for quick access to the engines in flight, and the nacelles were removed with a heavy winch or a crane during factory repairs.

The slide gate pulled back with a nasty squeak, giving off the pungent smell of fouling fuel and a nasty odor like burnt reactor plastic. First of all, Rivet noticed that some parts of the engine close to the stern and nozzles were badly smoked. Squeezing her hand through, she managed to reach down and run her finger over the hose running to that area, which had turned a dark gray with a bluish cast. It looked like the engine needed cleaning and was overheating.

Examining the same hose, Rivet saw, as much as she could from her position, a cylinder on the opposite side of the nozzle in a heavy metal casing, with «rays» protruding from the lid, converging toward the center - most likely a turbocharger. It, too, was heavily covered in soot, and a colorful stain spread around it, indicative of intense heating.

Additionally, Rivet's almighty eyes noticed that the wiring was melted in some places. The conclusion was that the engines had a major problem with the cooling system, followed by an issue with the fuel supply - the overheating had disrupted the feeding and blowing system. The white smoke that Mirage mentioned might well have been caused by leaks in the fuel hose.

- That's the story... – Rivet sighed. – Well, that's all right, it's not insurmountable.

There was a muffled cry from Bloodhound from above, but Rivet couldn't make it out, but decided to ask again, since the initial inspection was complete, and she began to climb out.

- You've been summoned, – Elliott said as he helped Rivet out of the technical cave. – But if we're still on the same page, did you find anything?

- Sort of, – the lombax nodded, dusting off her hands and shifting her goggles to her forehead. – The cooling system broke down and there's an awful lot of soot. The thermal conductivity of it, frankly speaking, is in poor shape, so the engine heat isn't dissipating. Furthermore, I think that somewhere the fuel hose connection has become loose due to the temperature fluctuations, that's the leak, that's the white smoke - evaporation. The worst part is the change of the turbocharger and the fuel valves. There, too, everything is heating up, like in the center of a star, the valve slide is bending from the heat, causing a gap and the pressure to drop.

- That's not good.

- I must say, this is a tough one. I'd be a little nervous about flying a piloted bomb. I've never encountered it personally, but I've heard from engineers that when one valve drops pressure, all the others explode.

- Yeah, it sucks, to put it mildly. – Mirage briefly darkened like a cloud. – The repairs are going to take longer than I thought.

- Mm-hmm, – Rivet nodded. – I'll drag the tools out of my ship and take care of the fuel system. I think I'm starting to like Octane's invitation even more now. With my help, this ship will sing like a bird. – She winked at her new acquaintance with her arms crossed over her chest.

- Well said, mate. – Elliott snapped his fingers in optimism, pointed at Rivet, and grinned a smile of thirty-two teeth. – But Hundr called for us, so let's not keep her waiting.

- Why not?

- Well, she thinks you've already agreed to join us, so she's prepared her... um... thing.

Tilting her head to the side thoughtfully, Rivet followed Mirage and soon they came to the cabin following the compartment with the gangway, where Bloodhound and Octane were already waiting for them. Apparently, there used to be a compartment with the ship's battle electronics, but it was now completely dismantled, as indicated by the gray silhouettes on the port and starboard sides, which converged into rectangles with rounded edges. Now there were five beds, one on the upper and lower right, two on the upper left, and one on the lower left. In front of them was a dark blue sofa, covered with a bedspread and a wooly potolli, and a small round table in front of it, and to the right of the entrance to the cabin was a portable refrigerator and a panel for cooking.

- She's here, Hound, – Octavio was like a little boy who couldn't wait to get a present or watch the next episode of his favorite show.

The aroma of some herbal drink that Bloodhound was preparing in a hollow, drop-like vessel with a flat bottom and top, wafted over the cabin, but it was appealing in its own way. Her raven, nestled under the ceiling on a dry branch taped to the wall, watched the whole procession. Mirage took the folded chair against the wall, brought it to «working order», and gestured for Rivet to sit at the table with a kind smile.

Rivet smiled back modestly and sat down at the table. Bloodhound sat down right across from her. To the left sat a smiling Mirage, and to the right, Octane. It was like Rivet was in a meeting committee of sorts, and she even wagged her tail.

- Welcome aboard, Rivet the lombax. – Hundr nodded her head as if bowing. – We salute you and would feel honored to have you as part of our team. You've already shown yourself to be a brave and worthy warrior, one whom the All father has also endowed with a talent for making friends with machines. Such a warrior of weapons and tools would be of great use to us. I once joined my friends to look after them. Will you join us to watch over their trusty starship as well?

A small but commendable speech. Rivet smiled modestly again, though she wondered to herself what had impressed her so much. Perhaps she should have given up her solitary pursuits long ago, but she was too used to the idea that she would find no friends in the Outlands. But these people could very well be her friends. Yes, it was possible that Octane might have glossed over their adventures in delivering aid to the needy, like Robin Hood, but that could still be checked.

- After everything I've seen and heard, my answer is yes, – Rivet said, after thinking and ending her staring game with the crew. – But I'm a «free agent», just like Octavio here said, – she and the daredevil chuckled together. – So... why the hell not? Maybe indeed, I'll do something useful with you, I'll patch up your bombardier, and it'll sing like a bird.

- Very good, your optimism is commendable. – Bloodhound nodded, then took out a paper bag from her pouch, which had very thick button buckles, and after tearing off the end, pulled out a thick plastic tube and dipped it into the drink. When she had finished this simple procedure, she moved the drink closer to Rivet. - This, mate, is consumed by the inhabitants of one of the hot planets where we visited in our explorations. Sometimes I wish it had been in the harsh, cold world where I grew up and studied. That's not important, though. What matters is that it has become our common ritual that together we drink this wonderful potion, which gives us strength, discourages sleep, clarifies thoughts, helps us on our way, and enhances our spirits. Now I invite you to drink it too, as one of us.

Rivet had never been particularly in awe of rituals, but for some reason this one resonated with her. The girl somehow felt special, but she couldn't accurately describe it. When she removed her glove, she first touched the vessel, making sure it wasn't too hot. It was tolerable, so she took it with both hands, though she took a closer look and sniffed. The decoction of the plant Hundr brewed smelled like something between sage and juniper, and it was a yellowish-green.

Rivet took one more look at the three of them for some reason, then wrapped her lips around the straw to take her first sip. She started coughing almost immediately - along with a very warm, almost hot drink, there was an uncountable amount of ground herbs on her tongue, and the taste was unpleasantly bitter, like a minty rinse mixed with a very strong tea without sugar.

Bloodhound, Mirage, and Octane laughed, of course, and so did Rivet, once she was sure she could open her mouth without gagging. Probably not the best initiation into the team, but it sure was amusing.

- That's hot, you bastard, – the lombax tried to deny it. – Is it normal that my gums are itchy?

Again, the four of them laughed in unison. Octane was the first to break the laughter, literally jumping out of his seat. He sprang over to Rivet, bent over, being a head beneath her, pressed her to his side, and ruffled the fur on the top of her head with his other hand, despite the fluffy one's struggles.

- Ha, did anyone ever tell you that you're cute like a stuffed animal, like the eighth wonder of the world?

- Well, I know now, thank you very much.

- Hey, you know what? It's time to share this with those who follow our heroic endeavors. – After letting Rivet go, Octane fumbled through one of his pockets and pulled out and turned on a small spherical camera, which immediately hovered above the table.

He put his hand on Rivet's shoulder, standing as close to her as he could, and the daredevil spoke out loud again, making her cringe as he spoke loudly and close to her ear:

- I want to appeal to all the fans who are watching me: hello, guys, I have some fucking great news for you - we have an addition to our team! This cute little simp is Rivet. You'll ask, «What the hell is Rivet?» I'll tell you: a lombax, a crazy fighter and a mechanic with golden paws! No kidding, she's fluffy and cute, but she's handy. - He paused to turn to the lombax, flicked her nose, and added: – You need a proper nickname too, we all have our aliases here, befitting of a hero. Hundr is like a bloodhound, and can track down anything, that's why she's Bloodhound, and El knows how to make illusions, which he'll show you later, so he's Mirage. And you already know about me.

- Well... – Rivet hesitated. – I might have an idea.

- Really? What is it?

She hadn't felt this good in a long time. Things might just get better. Rivet had once lingered on a remote world where the natives lived by old traditions. Almost like Bloodhound, except in a hot, dry expanse instead of a cold forest. The point is that they used to say «the sun touched» about the period when one got settled, had faithful friends, and a life partner or companion.

Maybe the light of the nearest star hadn't quite touched Rivet yet, but it had stroked her on the top of her head, and that made her feel good.

Now, she remembered that Bloodhound had used a very flattering comparison when they had met, one that she had not yet understood, but still. What did she say... Brave as... Yes, that's right! Satisfied, as if posing for the cover, Rivet put her hand on Octavio's shoulder in response, succinctly replying:

- Valkyrie.

Chapter Text

VALKYRIE

The one and only

«So what if I have my head in the clouds? How else can you see everything around you?»

Real Name: Rivet

Age: 20

Homeworld: Sargasso

Tactical Ability: Rocket Swarm

Passive Ability: A Friend among Strangers

Ultimate Ability: Heavenly Leap

Rivet, lately known as Valkyrie, was a model of optimism in spite of her circumstances, as she believes herself to be the last lombax. She grew up on Sargasso, a remote planet in the Outlands, among the morts who worked in the gelatonium factory, having no idea what might have caused the disappearance of all her kin, and left Sargasso with her own ship, the Ophelia, to become a «wanderer of the stars».

But what was known for sure is that the lombaxes have a special predisposition to mechanics and robotics. Rivet was no exception. In fact, one of the young inventor's technological masterpieces was her new jetpack, into which she was able to turn an entire flight core from the Northstar, one of Titan's modifications, a formidable battle mech. So she was finally able to soar through the air on her own terms...

The furry inventor would probably wander from one planet to the next in search of all sorts of parts and materials, until one day she attracted the attention of daredevil Octavio Silva («Octane») and his friends, hunter Blod Hundr («Bloodhound") and stuntman Elliott Witt («Mirage"), who offered Rivet to join and become the team technician. Rivet had no reason to refuse, so she decided to give it a try and ended up staying, becoming an integral part of such a diverse, outlandish, but unusual team.

BLOODHOUND

Technological Tracker

«I am a hunter sent down by the gods»

Real Name: Blod Hundr

Age: Unknown

Homeworld: Talos

Tactical Ability: Eye of the All father

Passive Ability: Tracker

Ultimate Ability: Beast of the Hunt

Bloodhound was known across the Outlands as one of the greatest hunters the Frontier has ever seen. The child of two engineers stationed at the «New Dawn» industrial plant on Talos, Bloodhound was taken in by their uncle Artur after a meltdown destroyed the facility and killed both their parents. Artur taught them the Old Ways, a belief system that focuses on the glory of nature and rejects modern technology.

Yet Bloodhound was constantly drawn to technological marvels, and ultimately used both new and old methods to take down a Goliath that preyed on the people of their village, forever changing the orphan's path.

Leaving the homeworld where she spent her childhood and became Bloodhound wasn't easy, but her sympathy for her new friends, Octavio Silva and Elliott Witt, outweighed her, as these two adventurers needed an eye on them. Bloodhound's unparalleled tracking skills gave her friends an undeniable advantage. Combining Artur's training, instincts, and tracking gadgets, she had no trouble finding hidden opponents and tracking the enemy's movements.

Calling on the ancient earthly gods of the North, Bloodhound believes that destiny is a path that has already been laid out, eventually carrying all to their death. But with this knowledge came strength, because until that day comes, Bloodhound knows there is no stopping the hunter.

OCTANE

High-Speed Daredevil

«Wow, this is totally awesome!»

Real Name: Octavio Silva

Age: 24

Homeworld: Psamathe

Tactical Ability: Stim

Passive Ability: Swift Mend

Ultimate Ability: Launch Pad

One day, Octavio Silva was bored. In fact, he was bored most days. Son of the preoccupied CEO of «Silva Pharmaceuticals» and wanting for nothing in life, he entertained himself by performing death-defying stunts and posting holovids of them for his fans to gawk over. So, this day, he decided to set the course record for a nearby obstacle course by launching himself across the finish line - using a grenade.

As he lay in triage hours later, the doctors informed him that the damage done to his legs meant his daredevil days were over. That didn’t sit well with Octavio, who turned to an old friend for help, Ajay Che. His guilt manipulation achieved its purpose: Che created bionic prostheses for him. Barely learning to walk on his new legs, which could now be easily repaired after any injuries, Octavio decided that a career as a stuntman was too insignificant a field. A good friend, Elliott Witt, shared a great idea - to join the intrepid «volunteers» who rescue the inhabitants of worlds that have survived the war and all kinds of troubles.

Now Octane intends to use his mind-blowing tricks to save those in need and win their sympathy - and once again defy death. At least he wouldn't be bored in his role as «the Outlands' hottest hero».

MIRAGE

Holographic Trickster

«I don't take anything seriously. I can't help it! I do what I want»

Real Name: Elliot Witt

Age: 30

Homeworld: Solace

Tactical Ability: Psyche Out

Passive Ability: Now You See Me...

Ultimate Ability: Life of the Party

Mirage was the kind of man who liked to stand out. The youngest of four brothers, he perfected the art of fooling around to get attention. The one thing he took seriously was Holo-Pilot technology: introduced to the illusion-creating tech by his engineer mother, he poured over the mechanisms and learned all he could about them. Even when his brothers went MIA during the Frontier War, Mirage and his mother continued to develop holo devices, and the work brought them closer.

While working as a bartender to make ends meet, Mirage heard amazing stories from his patrons about the brave Freikorps* - volunteers and patriots who helped the militia in battle, and defended the ravaged worlds from the mafia, who successfully profited from the chaos. As tempting as it sounded, he knew he couldn't risk leaving his mother childless - until she gave him a set of customized holo devices and told him to follow his dream.

On this arduous path, Elliott, who became Mirage, unexpectedly made some friends - the unrestrained Octavio Silva, the enigmatic Blod Hundr, and the lovely Rivet. His ability to outmaneuver his enemies, along with his extraordinary charisma and optimism, made Witt the spirit of the unusual all-star quartet.

===

Links to screenshots and character art:

Rivet: https://vk.com/photo143830104_457359291

Bloodhound: 1) the costume (jacket, pants and boots) was taken from the default game version: https://cdna.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/016/368/622/4k/j-hill-bloodhound-turn.jpg?1551896758 2) however, the helmet described in the story is borrowed from the Young Blood costume: https://mocah.org/346790-bloodhound-apex-legends-video-game-young-blood.html and 3) the appearance was copied from this headcanon: https://twitter.com/TheSalmonArt/status/1366484002287325191

Octane without a mask: https://vk.com/photo143830104_457358388?rev=1

Mirage: https://cdn1.dotesports.com/wp-content/uploads/2019/10/03142520/mirage.jpg