There was part of Mel that cringed at the words coming out of her own mouth, but there was a larger, more rooted part of her that felt right dropping back into Houston slang. Surrounded by Junkers…her father’s old friends, men and women who wouldn’t turn on her simply for showing a bit of mercy to a refugee. It all gave Mel a newfound confidence. Her grip on the flight stick felt more sure, and her flightpath seemed straighter.
Besides, she had a clear target in front of her now.
“By the way, good shootin’, Ricky!” she hailed the CSV flying next to her.
“Thanks, Mel! It’s always a good day to shoot Xe–” Ricky’s radio signal was cut short.
“You…! You! YOU!!!!!” Gunner was practically feral over comms. Even his ability to swear properly had failed him.
“DIE!!” he screamed over the universal comms channel.
Red light and missile shrapnel tore through Ricky’s ship as Mel looked on in horror.
“Not again…not again…not again,” she began to say rhythmically, almost like a prayer.
“That’s what you get for taking in a deserter, you miserable excuses for Libertonians!” Gunner radioed.
Mel could feel herself yelling, but couldn’t comprehend what she herself was actually saying.
“Don’t do it, Mel.”
“Wha– Kelvin?” Mel asked, confused.
“We’ve got this covered,” Kelvin said.
Gripping the flight stick and swinging the Cobra 3 around to look back at Beaumont Base, Mel saw a hulking gray and dingy yellow mass rise up from the other side of the station. A Salvager gunboat swung around the station and made a beeline for the ragtag squadron of Xeno fighters.
It was Kelvin’s pride and joy: The Wandering Dog.
Armed to the teeth with all manner of guns and claws and missiles, the Dallas Debris Field lit up with a fireworks show of light and explosions as Kelvin’s ship and Beaumont itself trained all their guns on the attacking fighters.
“GRRAAAgggg!!!” Gunner yelled incomprehensible gibberish over comms in anger.
Mel swung her ship around towards Gunner’s Cobra 1, a smirk plastered on her face. She felt something that she hadn’t felt while flying with the Xenos for a very, very long time: bloodlust.
“Yer turn to f*ckin’ die, you pathetic worm,” she said.
Plasma and tachyon fire ripped through one Xeno craft after another, with the mini pops of Starfliers depressurizing and imploding across the viewscreen of Mel’s cockpit.
“You...you can’t...” Gunner snarled.
“Oh, but apparently I can,” Mel said.
“You’ll–” Gunner started, but Mel cut him off.
“I’ll what? I’ll ‘pay for this?’ What a f*ckin’ useless attempt at a comeback,” Mel retorted. “No, no…you’ll be the one who is going to pay for what you did to Ida’s family!”
“Who the f*ck is ‘Ida’?”
Mel responded with laserfire.
“Well, it’s been fun. I’ll see you around…Junker scum,” Gunner said.
Mel saw him swing his ship around in a tight 180 and power up thrusters.
“Kelvin! Hit his engine!” Mel radioed over friendly comms.
But it was too late. Gunner’s afterburners sparked up too fast for cruise disruptors to catch him, and within seconds he was gone…making his way back to Hudson.
Mel breathed in a deep sigh and worked to steady her trembling hands, still feeling her entire body pumping with adrenaline.
“That’s right…” Mel said to herself, no longer projecting to another over comms. “You’d better believe I’m Junker scum now!”
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