Date: February 1, 2511

  "11... 15... 20!"

  My arms were taut, muscles twisting like steel cables as I finished the last pull-up. With an explosive drive from my abs, I flipped around the bar and landed steadily.

  I plopped down onto the mat, gasping. Sweat ran down my forehead and stung my eyes. That utter physical exhaustion somehow comforted me — it reminded me that I was still alive.

  Two months ago, my last meeting with Meadow on the Valkyrie turned out to be the last time I saw her. After that, she seemed to evaporate. I pulled every string I had, asked everyone I could think of, but no one could tell me where she’d gone.

  We’d known each other for ten years. She and Nova felt like family. We told each other everything, shared tiny secrets, and — absurdly — we shared the same 300-pound man.

  Every time I flew the SF-47 "Nightshade" in the sky, I felt like a bayonet in the air. Delivering lethal damage to the enemy also slashed little pieces out of me.

  It was Meadow who soothed me after a thousand nightmare nights with a motherly tenderness that calmed my battered heart.

  But this time I couldn’t help her. I felt useless.

  When I was a child, I dreamed of piloting fighters into the sky — that imagined freedom. But when I finally flew, I realized the sky was an even wider, deadlier prison. In that cage, you either kill or get killed.

  Some people say that three women gathered around a 300-pound man is an unrealistic romantic fantasy.

  They don’t know that when every second of being alive feels like an illusion, in that man, I saw the kind of real freedom I once longed for. In his embrace, I felt truly alive.

  When I heard that Jack had been notified about Cyril’s assassination attempt, I immediately thought of Jack’s face.

  Although he said nothing and kept up his flippant act, I knew he was more anxious than anyone. Beneath that world-weary mask, he treasured his friends and people fiercely.

  I watched him comb through the girls’ dorm, supposedly looking for the killer of the teacher, but really, his eyes were either on the bras drying on the left or the lace on the right.

  I nearly wanted to kick him flat, but I held myself back.

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  Then he actually caught the female killer. I could hardly believe it — was that stupid fat man joking?

  After that, I watched him leave the school heading home. I followed behind; he didn’t notice me tailing him. I guessed he wasn’t paying attention. Then his skiff turned toward another place — an abandoned industrial building — and his mech, Tor, was there. I knew he was doing something dangerous again.

  My palms were slick with sweat. When he entered the factory, I followed with my TSR-9. At the gate of the derelict plant, I ran into that military police colonel who tried to stop me. After checking my biometrics, he recognized me.

  He said, “Major, this area is sealed off, please—”

  “Move.” I had no time for words. Jack was inside; even if it was hell, I would go in.

  I stared him down, my tone as cold as an ice blade. He hesitated for a few seconds — probably never having seen such a fierce look from a female pilot — then stepped aside and let me through.

  The building was pitch black.

  I heard fighting from above. I crept through the darkness, waited for my eyes to adjust, then switched on a backup micro-spotlight. I saw a few bodies on the floor; each wound was a kill shot. Cold sweat prickled my spine. What kind of monster could do this? And that jackass who usually ran away was down there fighting such a creature.

  I moved slowly upward. The sounds faded and then drew nearer; I quickened my steps.

  On the fourth floor, I heard voices, then metallic impacts. I was almost on the fifth when someone ran quickly down the stairs — I ducked into an empty room. Through a crack of light, I could see two figures passing. I eased the rifle out and peeked. Jack was grappling with a tall man. Jack looked like he was getting beaten. I raised the rifle and aimed at the big man’s back, about to fire — and then I saw the man kick Jack hard in the chest. Jack flew back like a rag doll, shattered a railing, and plunged down into the bottomless atrium.

  “No!”

  My mind went blank — Jack dead? Impossible. Flashbacks of knowing him streaked through my head. I didn’t think, I didn’t care if the enemy saw me — I charged out. At that moment, the tall man also jumped.

  When I reached the fourth-floor edge and looked down, I saw an image I’ll never forget:

  Jack was not dead. He was sitting inside the mech. The black Tor had its massive metal fingers pinching that arrogant killer like an insect, shaking him as if to rattle him apart.

  Then I saw Tor’s other hand coming up — as if… trying to pull off the man’s trousers?

  My head was more bewildered than when I first feared Jack had died.

  The tall man collapsed in Tor’s grip; he let out a garbled final sentence — it sounded like “you cinnamon roll” or “goddamn you, you slippery—” — whatever it was, that was the man.

  That was Jack. The man I love. Forever a cause of stomach-clenching anxiety, yet able to make me laugh at the absurdity.

  Tor stopped moving.

  I ran down and climbed onto the mech. Jack was in the cockpit, covered in blood, unconscious. Even so, the swollen, battered face of his had a crooked, satisfied smirk.

  I engaged Tor’s emergency controls and entered the backdoor password Nova had given me. Nova remotely took the mech and got us out of the building.

  I kissed Jack lightly on his blood-and-sweat-streaked forehead. I touched his face. My heart hammered.

  Outside the area was already swarming with the army. Jack was soon taken to the hospital’s medical bay.

  That night, lying in bed, the day replayed over and over in my head.

  I can’t imagine what I would have done if he’d truly died — the thought was meaningless.

  I want to keep living and feel every bit of this.

  Maybe this is what God wanted me to see —

  In a world filled with death, love hard, live hard.

  (CH106 end)