Kaiju Project - section 1 early draft

I’m still figuring out what form this will take exactly. It’ll likely be a written story with some accompanying illustrations. To start things off I wrote a bit of an intro scene! No TF action yet, just some expository dialogue to begin developing the characters and world.

—

“Hey Deirdre! When I say keep my six, what exactly do you think I fucking mean?”

Deirdre’s heart was still pounding from the battle, but her thrumming circulatory system found room for a little surge in blood pressure. She shot a glare over her shoulder at Sigourney, who had just extricated herself from the cockpit of the UNSP Falcata and was now storming toward Deirdre down the hangar bay catwalk, shoving past several startled Sentry technicians on her route.

Deirdre rolled her eyes. “You’re joking, right? You shouted that part directly before charging headlong between three Makara-class Kaiju. I can’t keep shit if you deliberately defy protocol and endanger the goddamn mission!”

“Protocol? I don’t remember our briefings covering the possibility of a coordinated Kaiju assault with seven fucking hostiles!”

“Well clearly you weren’t paying attention! Section 22 clearly outlines procedures for engaging an outnumbering enemy force. Procedures we could have followed and executed flawlessly if you weren’t too busy winging it! We’re supposed to be a team, I’m not your fucking babysitter!”

Sigourney closed the distance, jabbing two fingers into Deirdre’s chest. “The UNSP Kaiju Engagement Playbook was written by a committee of old fucks who are more concerned with the cost of property damage than winning the war. Oh, not to mention the inconsequential lives of their spliced up pilots. Why should I hamstring myself for their tax money, when they don’t even legally recognize me as human?”

“This isn’t about that and you know it. I may not agree with everything in the playbook. But at least it’s a consistent plan we can work off of! Your little stunts out there don’t just put you at risk, they endanger all of us. I’m not feeding the Paramerion to Makaras just because you think you’re smarter than everyone else on your squad.”

Sigourney stared hard up into Deirde’s eyes, pupils narrowed to razor slits. “I am absolutely smarter than the rest of you.”

“You really think so, don’t you? Poor little Sigs, chained down by her pathetic squadmates. That must be super fucking hard for you sweetie.”

Deirdre knew Sigourney well, so she knew she would hit a nerve with her condescending tone. It came as no surprise when a growl tore its way from Sigourney’s throat, and she swung a clawed hand toward her face. Time seemed to slow as Deirdre’s bestial combat reflexes kicked in. Nerve pathways adopted from cheetah, hummingbird, and thylacine genes lit up with an instinctual thrill. Deirdre sidestepped easily, deflecting the next two strikes with deft forearm parries. Sigourney was lightning fast, but Deirdre was faster. She ducked low, dropping under Sigourney’s lunge with a rapid leg sweep. Sigourney’s momentum was suddenly to her detriment as her legs buckled out from under her, sending her collapsing to the catwalk.

“Oh, didn’t see that one coming master tactician? Or are you gonna blame this one on your splices too?”

Before Sigourney could scream her vitriolic reply, a voice roared out over both of them.

“ENOUGH.”

Both pilots froze. Wincing, Deirdre looked up to see none other than Chief Master Sergeant Hur “Zagan” Sam-Soo walking slowly but purposefully toward them. He was a lean man, streaks of grey shot through his short black hair. Both his arms and his left leg ended in mechanical prostheses, not unlike Deirdre’s right arm. Scars carved jagged paths across his neck and face, grafted tissue covering one absent eye. Zagan (Deirdre’s mind still defaulted to his old pilot callsign) had operated a Sentry back before gene splicing was standard practice among pilots. He had completed his career more intact than any of his peers.

“Are you two quite finished? Because I’m happy to make time in my schedule for you to tear each other’s throats out.”

“Yes sir,” they said in unison, scrambling back to their feet.

“That’s what I thought,” he grunted through clenched teeth. “I’m certain I don’t have to tell you what an unmitigated shitshow this mission was.”

Deirdre and Sigourney shot each other malevolent glares.

“I expect you both to review the combat logs. In depth. We’ve never seen so many Kaiju working together like this in a coordinated assault. This war is going to shit fast, and we can’t afford fuckups like the travesty I witnessed today. Changdao and Urumi suffered enough damage to take them out of commission for weeks. You had better hope that there isn’t another large-scale attack in this quadrant, or your ineptitude will kill thousands.”

“Yes sir.”

Zagan placed both hands on the catwalk railing, leaning out to observe Deirdre’s Sentry, the UNSP Paramerion. He seemed to age 10 years looking at the gaping claw marks in the mech’s ceramic armor.

“It’s not enough,” he murmured, almost to himself. “They just keep coming. Wave upon wave. We won’t hold them back forever.”

“Sir?” Sigourney paused, uncertain. After a moment, Zagan seemed to remember himself. He let go of the railing, turning to walk away from the pair.

“Be better,” he called over his shoulder. “We don’t have room for mistakes.”