Freehold - The Great Cerg
Surface, City Outskirts
An hour later, Vega stood with her team, her repairs complete and her Dynamiteon ready for whatever came next. The tunnel they had fought their way through was behind them now, but her focus had shifted entirely to the massive construct before her. Some of the others were calling it a “landship,” though the term hardly seemed to capture its scale. The hulking structure loomed within the pit like a beached leviathan, its rusted bulk scarred and aged by years of use—or neglect. From her vantage point on the lip of the bowl-shaped arena, Vega watched, silent and still, as the chaos below played out.
In the pit, small groups of beings fought viciously, their silhouettes flickering in and out of view as dust and smoke swirled through the heavy air. The cacophony of distant shouts, the clash of weapons, and the crackle of energy fire reverberated up toward her, blending with the quieter conversation among her team. Vega’s red-on-black eyes narrowed as she observed the struggle. The fighters seemed desperate, scrappy—just like her team had been not so long ago.
She half-listened to the discussion playing out nearby, words filtering through her thoughts like smoke through her fingers. Chips and Joe’s voices anchored her to the present. She heard Joe praise Huthang and Yam for their resolve, the faint note of encouragement barely masking the pragmatic tone that followed.
His words echoed across the pit as Vega’s gaze drifted over the landship’s enormous frame. It was true: taking such a construct was no small feat. Its sheer size hinted at the thousand—or more—crew it might house. The battle raging below was brutal, but for now, it was contained. As long as the crew inside held the line and the tech-raiders didn’t get a foothold, the odds were surprisingly balanced.
Vega frowned, the analytical part of her mind ticking through possibilities. Joe’s assessment was hard to argue with. This wasn’t their fight—yet.
“We also don’t owe them nothin’,” Chips added coldly, and Vega couldn’t help but glance his way. His blunt practicality rang hollow in her ears, though she couldn’t deny the truth in it. The idea of stepping in—of saving a struggling crew for little more than a “favor” and fleeting goodwill—was a risky play, and in their line of work, altruism rarely paid dividends. Chips wasn’t wrong. Letting the two sides weaken each other did present an opportunity. A cruel opportunity, but an opportunity nonetheless.
Her eyes flicked toward the others scattered along the pit’s edge. Voidfolk, scavengers, and rogue tech crews mingled nearby, watching the fight with their own quiet agendas. They were like vultures circling a dying animal, waiting to see which side would fall first before making their move. Vega felt the tension in the air, like a wire pulled taut and ready to snap. Everyone here was thinking the same thing: Who wins? Who loses? And how do we profit from it?
Chips’s voice brought her attention back as he moved toward the edge of his cockpit, his last words cutting through the tense quiet. Vega watched as he casually dropped from his cockpit, the lower gravity of the area softening his descent as he landed with an awkward stumble. Chips almost faceplanted, but in typical fashion, he recovered quickly, already walking toward the nearest group of Voidfolk. The Inheritor joined him, the two of them moving off into the growing crowd, leaving Vega and the rest of the team scattered along the bowl’s edge.
For a moment, Vega remained still, her gaze lingering on the landship as her thoughts churned. It wasn’t just a rust bucket to her—it was potential. A landship like that could change the tide for a group like theirs, turning scavengers into something greater. Yet, it was also a liability. If they tried to take it now, they’d be torn apart between the two sides still duking it out below. But waiting too long meant the opportunity might slip through their fingers, claimed by someone else—or reduced to little more than scrap.
Vega exhaled slowly, her second pair of hands curling against the sides of her jacket as she forced herself to stay grounded. The pit was loud, alive with motion, yet her focus remained sharp. Let Chips play the diplomat, she thought. Her own skills were better suited for the fight that might come next. Whatever plan the others devised, she’d be ready—her Mech repaired, her weapons primed, and her resolve steady. She would follow orders, but she would also keep an eye on the landship, that hulking beast of rusted potential, as if she could already see its future: rising from the pit, under their command.
Her attention went to Lisa, she liked her, she seemed nice, "so we going then?' she asked for confirmation.
Surface, City Outskirts
An hour later, Vega stood with her team, her repairs complete and her Dynamiteon ready for whatever came next. The tunnel they had fought their way through was behind them now, but her focus had shifted entirely to the massive construct before her. Some of the others were calling it a “landship,” though the term hardly seemed to capture its scale. The hulking structure loomed within the pit like a beached leviathan, its rusted bulk scarred and aged by years of use—or neglect. From her vantage point on the lip of the bowl-shaped arena, Vega watched, silent and still, as the chaos below played out.
In the pit, small groups of beings fought viciously, their silhouettes flickering in and out of view as dust and smoke swirled through the heavy air. The cacophony of distant shouts, the clash of weapons, and the crackle of energy fire reverberated up toward her, blending with the quieter conversation among her team. Vega’s red-on-black eyes narrowed as she observed the struggle. The fighters seemed desperate, scrappy—just like her team had been not so long ago.
She half-listened to the discussion playing out nearby, words filtering through her thoughts like smoke through her fingers. Chips and Joe’s voices anchored her to the present. She heard Joe praise Huthang and Yam for their resolve, the faint note of encouragement barely masking the pragmatic tone that followed.
His words echoed across the pit as Vega’s gaze drifted over the landship’s enormous frame. It was true: taking such a construct was no small feat. Its sheer size hinted at the thousand—or more—crew it might house. The battle raging below was brutal, but for now, it was contained. As long as the crew inside held the line and the tech-raiders didn’t get a foothold, the odds were surprisingly balanced.
Vega frowned, the analytical part of her mind ticking through possibilities. Joe’s assessment was hard to argue with. This wasn’t their fight—yet.
“We also don’t owe them nothin’,” Chips added coldly, and Vega couldn’t help but glance his way. His blunt practicality rang hollow in her ears, though she couldn’t deny the truth in it. The idea of stepping in—of saving a struggling crew for little more than a “favor” and fleeting goodwill—was a risky play, and in their line of work, altruism rarely paid dividends. Chips wasn’t wrong. Letting the two sides weaken each other did present an opportunity. A cruel opportunity, but an opportunity nonetheless.
Her eyes flicked toward the others scattered along the pit’s edge. Voidfolk, scavengers, and rogue tech crews mingled nearby, watching the fight with their own quiet agendas. They were like vultures circling a dying animal, waiting to see which side would fall first before making their move. Vega felt the tension in the air, like a wire pulled taut and ready to snap. Everyone here was thinking the same thing: Who wins? Who loses? And how do we profit from it?
Chips’s voice brought her attention back as he moved toward the edge of his cockpit, his last words cutting through the tense quiet. Vega watched as he casually dropped from his cockpit, the lower gravity of the area softening his descent as he landed with an awkward stumble. Chips almost faceplanted, but in typical fashion, he recovered quickly, already walking toward the nearest group of Voidfolk. The Inheritor joined him, the two of them moving off into the growing crowd, leaving Vega and the rest of the team scattered along the bowl’s edge.
For a moment, Vega remained still, her gaze lingering on the landship as her thoughts churned. It wasn’t just a rust bucket to her—it was potential. A landship like that could change the tide for a group like theirs, turning scavengers into something greater. Yet, it was also a liability. If they tried to take it now, they’d be torn apart between the two sides still duking it out below. But waiting too long meant the opportunity might slip through their fingers, claimed by someone else—or reduced to little more than scrap.
Vega exhaled slowly, her second pair of hands curling against the sides of her jacket as she forced herself to stay grounded. The pit was loud, alive with motion, yet her focus remained sharp. Let Chips play the diplomat, she thought. Her own skills were better suited for the fight that might come next. Whatever plan the others devised, she’d be ready—her Mech repaired, her weapons primed, and her resolve steady. She would follow orders, but she would also keep an eye on the landship, that hulking beast of rusted potential, as if she could already see its future: rising from the pit, under their command.
Her attention went to Lisa, she liked her, she seemed nice, "so we going then?' she asked for confirmation.
