Sometimes the tremors from the mechs shifting positions outside, or the distant thud of artillery tests from the outer wall, would wake me in the middle of the night.

  Tonight was one of those nights.

  I sat up slowly in the small inn bed, sweat soaking through the sheets. My chest was tight. My watch glowed faint green on the nightstand.

  One hour until our shift.

  “Damn it…”

  My hands were shaking. I pressed them against my face and forced myself to breathe.

  Relax.

  You’re not dying.

  It’s just another anxiety attack.

  The room was quiet except for my breathing.

  My eyes drifted toward Crazy.

  He was still curled near the edge of the bed.

  Too still.

  That wasn’t normal.

  He was always somewhat alert. Even asleep he’d twitch or shift. He hated loud noises. Always did.

  “Hey buddy…”

  I leaned over and nudged him gently.

  No movement.

  A colder panic replaced the anxiety.

  I reached down and picked him up.

  His head fell back limp.

  My heart dropped straight through my chest.

  “No… no… no, buddy…”

  His body was light in my hands. Too light. Feathers soft. Warm… but wrong.

  He was old.

  I’d had him since I was fifteen. I was thirty-five now.

  Chickens usually live ten years.

  He made it twenty.

  A rare one.

  He was the last thing I had from before the war. Before my mother died in that explosion. Before everything burned.

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  Now it was just me.

  I pulled him against my chest and the tears came before I could stop them.

  Not battlefield tears.

  Not rage.

  Just… grief.

  A knock hit the door.

  I flinched.

  I laid Crazy gently back on the bed and wiped my face with my arm, grabbed my blaster, and moved to the door.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s me,” Lexi’s voice came through. “Open up.”

  We still had almost fifty minutes before watch.

  I opened the door.

  I stood there shirtless, in boxers, blaster in hand.

  She blinked once. “Easy, killer. It’s just me.”

  “Sorry,” I muttered. “Bounty hunters.”

  She held up two steaming cups. “Coffee.”

  I stepped aside and let her in.

  She paused when she looked at me.

  “You’re drenched,” she said. “Hair’s soaked.”

  “Just hot,” I replied.

  She studied me longer.

  “You okay?”

  I hesitated.

  I don’t open up. I don’t do that.

  But something broke.

  “I get bad dreams,” I said quietly. “Years of war. Seeing people die. That stuff sticks.”

  I sniffed.

  “My best friend just passed.”

  She looked around. “Who?”

  I pointed toward the bed.

  Her eyes shifted.

  “…Your chicken?”

  A small, broken laugh escaped me. “Yeah.”

  I sat down beside the bed and picked him up again.

  “Had him since I was a teen. I trust him more than anyone.”

  She didn’t laugh at that.

  She handed me the coffee.

  I took a sip. It burned my tongue. I didn’t care.

  I kept talking.

  “I marched across the Lutara sand plains fighting armies of mechs. Watched good men die. Buried kids. Dropped from orbit in a coffin of steel and survived battles nobody else did.”

  My voice cracked.

  “I never cried for that.”

  I swallowed hard.

  “But when my damn chicken dies…”

  I covered my face.

  “I cry.”

  The tears came heavy now.

  “I’m just tired,” I whispered. “I’m tired of this war. This life.”

  I expected her to make a joke.

  She didn’t.

  She sat beside me and put her hand on my back.

  Her voice was smaller than I’d ever heard it.

  “I’m tired too.”

  When I looked over, her eyes were wet.

  She rested her head against my shoulder.

  “It’s okay,” she said quietly. “We can cry together.”

  We sat there like that for a while. Two soldiers. No armor. No sarcasm.

  Just tired.

  Eventually she pulled back.

  “What are you going to do with him?”

  “Bury him,” I said. “After watch.”

  “You want me there?”

  I nodded.

  “Yeah.”

  “I’d like that.”

  We finished our coffee and walked outside together, eyes puffy, faces quiet.

  The night was beautiful. Stars spread across the sky. The two pink moons hanging low.

  Frank’s voice came over comms as we approached the hangar.

  “About time.”

  “Shut up,” Lexi shot back, flipping him off before grabbing her zip line and zipping up into her cockpit.

  I stepped toward mine.

  This time… no Crazy on my shoulder.

  That hurt more than I expected.

  I powered up.

  “All vitals nominal,” Light said. “Your stress levels are elevated. Are you well?”

  “Crazy passed away,” I said.

  There was a pause.

  “I detect increased emotional distress,” Light replied. “I am… processing.”

  “You processing grief?” I asked.

  “Yes,” Light answered. “Your neural waves are linked to me. I experience echoes of your emotional states.”

  I stared forward at the HUD.

  “You feel what I feel?”

  “Yes. We are connected. The longer the link persists, the deeper the resonance between our systems.”

  “That’s why I feel pain when you’re hit.”

  “Correct.”

  “Great,” I muttered. “So now you get to feel heartbreak too.”

  “Yes,” Light said softly. “It is… unpleasant.”

  We moved into position.

  Carl center.

  Frank right with me.

  Tamala left flank.

  Lexi behind the town.

  The desert was still.

  The night air calm.

  We stood guard beneath the moons.

  Light went quiet inside my head.

  For once, neither of us had anything to say.

  And for the first time in a long time…

  I slept inside my mech without dreaming.

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