The Hail Marine
Sep. 29th, 2024 02:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
eatthepenMisc short mecha fic originally written for Cohost for the prompt 'Mech Pilot who lost the match but won the crowd.'
The Hail Marine
"She dived again? What's she doing?"
"This is the Gold Bowl, Dan, it's not over until it's over."
"There's only twenty-three seconds on the clock, Crittan, and the Titantrouts are down by three!"
"It's mathematically possible-"
"The only four-pointer left is the pikeshark, Crit, this is beyond daft, it's dangerous!"
Lian narrowed her eyes, shutting out the periphery of her HUD with its trackers marking the positions of her netters. Ignoring the whine of the jets, the shading-orange therms. The vaquita and giant trout were already scattering ahead of her, but she pressed deeper. Thirty metres, forty.
Ahead, the pikeshark spooked and accelerated in two flicks of its long, narrow body. She was almost deep enough. Seventeen seconds to go. The problem wasn't spearing the fish. They wouldn't score the points unless they got the pikeshark up above the water. Terena and Von didn't have to get it ashore, but it did have to be in a net.
The flobike was vibrating through its dampers, enough to make her head hurt, her vision not quite clear enough. When she hit the button to arm her torpoon, the extra drag made it worse, cavitation around the weapon on the bike's ventral crest rattling her bones. Almost enough to drown the engine alarm as it began to blare.
"Fifteen seconds! She's right on it, ten metres to the tail."
"Her netters are keeping up, good positioning from Lawras especially to keep ahead of Shanore, they'll need that."
"Why doesn't she shoot, what's she waiting for?"
"Fountain play."
"With a pikeshark? She'll never-"
The grinding, terrible shaking of the flobike was too much, Lian couldn't ignore it, couldn't feel the water, the proprioceptive displacement of oneness with her machine. Silver-blue scales glittered across the pikeshark's belly above her as it raced towards the wider part of the lake. Eleven seconds.
Piloting by brute physical logic rather than grace, she hauled on her yokes, kicked the thrust stirrup again, and rolled the flobike. Through the alarms and heat warnings, her eyes found the depth gauge. Forty-seven metres. Too deep for the torpoon to drive the pikeshark to the surface on its own.
Well, she'd known that would be the case jumping in. In her head she could already hear Anavasin gloating. Had to do it my way, huh? No time to come up with a comeback. It wouldn't matter if she won.
The pikeshark flinched left, and Lian lunged, using the lead-fins of the flobike like arms, grappling and powering upward. The exposed point of the torpoon pierced scale and the pikeshark thrashed, but she redlined the jets, deaf to her machine's wails, and surged for the surface. One second, two, the flobike rattling hard enough to jounce her head back and forth against its rest.
Then she kicked free and launched the torpoon, as late as she dared, letting the weapon's motor finish the job.
"There's the shot! There's the-"
"Lawras is right there! She's got the net, here comes the pike-"
"It's fighting, it's still fighting, she's adjusting-"
"Swings!"
"She caught it! She caught it! I don't believe it!"
"Is the- Yes! There's the clock, there's the second, the time, the last, it's over! They did it!"
"They did it, unbelieveable, Dan, I don't believe it."
"I don't either, Crittan, who would? The Tendersea Thundertrouts are world champions! By one point, with one second on the clock, they beat the New Channel Pisciniers to clinch the Gold Fish Bowl!"
"Wait, hang on, Dan."
"What?"
"Shanore hasn't surfaced, I see – is that oil in the water? Boiling?"
Lian's eyes stung. She tried to breath against the chest-crunching adrenaline and gagged on air turned acrid. The heat alarms had stopped and her dash was flickering. Electrical fault. Cracked casing in the engine, leaking into the hull. The bike was doomed. What was her depth? She couldn't see clearly.
There was hissing, growing louder, somewhere around her feet. She couldn't tell which direction was up, had the bike rolled over again? It was getting hotter – was there a fire in her cockpit? Could be hot water coming in through the engine.
If the cockpit failed she was below recovery depth for certain, the pressure would drive all the air out of her lungs in seconds. She reached her hand down the side of her seat for the emergency ripcord – and jerked back, sharply, as something splashed scalding across the back of her hand. Tried the other side, straining now, as if maybe the bike was on its side, gravity working against her, got her fingers on the loop, pulled.
For a moment the system worked, the roar of inflating buoyancy balloons displacing the groans of the dying bike. Then there was a BANG so loud that Lian saw stars. The bike wrenched, tumbling, and then the water caught it again in a crushing fist.
"Oh this is terrible! Her balloon burst! She's in real trouble down there, where are the emergency team?"
"I'm looking out the window of our commentary pod, Crit, they're scrambling, I think they must have been flatfooted, not expecting another dive!"
"That's not good enough! Lian Shanore has just won the championship, we can't lose another world champion like this!"
"Wait, Crittan, look, look over at the Pisciniers'- Ana's, Temperance is diving, she's going in after her!"
The noise was almost worse than the heat, a wall of static that seemed to get inside Lian's eyeballs. Her calves were burning but she couldn't free her ankles from her stirrups. It was impossible to see, her eyes were streaming and the whole cockpit was juddering.
A crunch somewhere behind her made her flinch, the reflex yanking one foot free. It felt almost like she'd torn it off at the ankle. Dimly she was aware she was thrashing, fighting against the straps that bound her into her seat. Her coffin.
Then, somehow, suddenly, the noise was different. Roaring, rushing, but moving. The light in the cockpit changed, brighter and bluer. Her ears popped, painful even through all the other discomforts. Deliriously, she had a vision of the pikeshark come back to finish her off, or else save? her?
"Incredible! Anavasin Temperance surfaces and she's got Shanore's flobike, she did to Shanore exactly what she was trying to do to that pikeshark!"
"The crowd are going wild! What an incredible stunt!"
"I just hope it's enough, Dan, that bike is a wreck, look at the trail it's left in the water."
"We'll soon see, Crit, the med team are right there, there go the pop-floats."
"Ana's out of her cockpit, look, this has to be one of the greatest acts of sporting magnanimity in defeat that I have ever seen in my life."
The cockpit opened and Lian clenched herself up small as she could, as if that could protect from the drowning crush of water. Instead, there was a gout of cool air, sting-bright daylight, voices. She sagged against her harness straps.
For a few minutes the world was a blur, crowd noise distant in a way she knew had to indicate hearing impairment. By the time she could see straight, she was lying on the dock, and what she saw was a loose circle of concerned and busy faces as the medics attended to her. Cold-creams on the burns on her arm and legs. A mask across her face, chill oxygen blowing gently up her nostrils.
With a concentrated effort of will, she hauled in a deep breath, enough to make her neck and shoulders protest their strains. Reassuring murmurs – not murmurs, but words muted by the damage to her ears – from the medics. Her burnt arm was immobilized. Cautiously, she raised the other from the elbow, waved awkwardly with that hand.
"Thank heavens, she's alive, what a relief."
"The crowd appreciate that, listen to them."
"As do we all, Dan. As do we all. And Ana's heroics, too."
"I don't think they'll stop cheering for her for a long time, Crittan."
"Well-deserved. And, of course, thanks to her we'll have plenty more opportunities to watch this rivalry in future."
"Haha, let's hope it doesn't get quite this intense again."
"You fishin' idiot," Ana said as the doctor helped Lian to her feet.
"Who's the bigger-" Lian tried to quip back and stopped, coughing.
"You, you're the bigger idiot." Ana took the doctor's place, catching Lian's arm and drawing it over her shoulder. There was a surge of noisy approval from the crowd. "I'm the hero who saved the world champion."
"Fish you." Lian coughed again, unable to stand straight. She felt like she'd inhaled a bucket of water, the whole inside of her chest hurt.
"Stealing my thunder."
"You still won, bitch." There was no rancor in Ana's voice. "The least you could say is thank you."
Cameras were flickering all around them, sideline reporters pressing in with questions, the medics overwhelmed trying to hold them back. Lian was dimly conscious of Terena and Von on one side holding the line, Ana's netters and coach somewhere on the other. She let her weight sag against her rival. Let her have this moment. The trophy was out there somewhere, and this year, finally, it would be Lian's name on it.
(By the way if you like fiction about ridiculous sports, my webnovel about dragon racing might appeal)
The Hail Marine
"Lian, what are you doing?"
"We've got time for another dive," Lian said, stepping her flobike up onto the blocks. Below her, the depths of the lake were illuminated by a grid of underwater lights, the last few fish dark silhouettes. "This isn't over. Come on, before the refs whistle a run-off."
"Are you crazy? We can't-" Terena's voice was heated. "They've nimmed us, it's not safe to-"
"I'm not losing to Ana here. Just keep your net ready," she cut him off and dived. The flobike arced forward, bladed head sliding frictionlessly into the water. Lian stomped her foot and the aquajets screamed to life, driving her down towards the fish. Already the heat warnings on her dash were yellow.
"We've got time for another dive," Lian said, stepping her flobike up onto the blocks. Below her, the depths of the lake were illuminated by a grid of underwater lights, the last few fish dark silhouettes. "This isn't over. Come on, before the refs whistle a run-off."
"Are you crazy? We can't-" Terena's voice was heated. "They've nimmed us, it's not safe to-"
"I'm not losing to Ana here. Just keep your net ready," she cut him off and dived. The flobike arced forward, bladed head sliding frictionlessly into the water. Lian stomped her foot and the aquajets screamed to life, driving her down towards the fish. Already the heat warnings on her dash were yellow.
"She dived again? What's she doing?"
"This is the Gold Bowl, Dan, it's not over until it's over."
"There's only twenty-three seconds on the clock, Crittan, and the Titantrouts are down by three!"
"It's mathematically possible-"
"The only four-pointer left is the pikeshark, Crit, this is beyond daft, it's dangerous!"
Lian narrowed her eyes, shutting out the periphery of her HUD with its trackers marking the positions of her netters. Ignoring the whine of the jets, the shading-orange therms. The vaquita and giant trout were already scattering ahead of her, but she pressed deeper. Thirty metres, forty.
Ahead, the pikeshark spooked and accelerated in two flicks of its long, narrow body. She was almost deep enough. Seventeen seconds to go. The problem wasn't spearing the fish. They wouldn't score the points unless they got the pikeshark up above the water. Terena and Von didn't have to get it ashore, but it did have to be in a net.
The flobike was vibrating through its dampers, enough to make her head hurt, her vision not quite clear enough. When she hit the button to arm her torpoon, the extra drag made it worse, cavitation around the weapon on the bike's ventral crest rattling her bones. Almost enough to drown the engine alarm as it began to blare.
"Fifteen seconds! She's right on it, ten metres to the tail."
"Her netters are keeping up, good positioning from Lawras especially to keep ahead of Shanore, they'll need that."
"Why doesn't she shoot, what's she waiting for?"
"Fountain play."
"With a pikeshark? She'll never-"
The grinding, terrible shaking of the flobike was too much, Lian couldn't ignore it, couldn't feel the water, the proprioceptive displacement of oneness with her machine. Silver-blue scales glittered across the pikeshark's belly above her as it raced towards the wider part of the lake. Eleven seconds.
Piloting by brute physical logic rather than grace, she hauled on her yokes, kicked the thrust stirrup again, and rolled the flobike. Through the alarms and heat warnings, her eyes found the depth gauge. Forty-seven metres. Too deep for the torpoon to drive the pikeshark to the surface on its own.
Well, she'd known that would be the case jumping in. In her head she could already hear Anavasin gloating. Had to do it my way, huh? No time to come up with a comeback. It wouldn't matter if she won.
The pikeshark flinched left, and Lian lunged, using the lead-fins of the flobike like arms, grappling and powering upward. The exposed point of the torpoon pierced scale and the pikeshark thrashed, but she redlined the jets, deaf to her machine's wails, and surged for the surface. One second, two, the flobike rattling hard enough to jounce her head back and forth against its rest.
Then she kicked free and launched the torpoon, as late as she dared, letting the weapon's motor finish the job.
"There's the shot! There's the-"
"Lawras is right there! She's got the net, here comes the pike-"
"It's fighting, it's still fighting, she's adjusting-"
"Swings!"
"She caught it! She caught it! I don't believe it!"
"Is the- Yes! There's the clock, there's the second, the time, the last, it's over! They did it!"
"They did it, unbelieveable, Dan, I don't believe it."
"I don't either, Crittan, who would? The Tendersea Thundertrouts are world champions! By one point, with one second on the clock, they beat the New Channel Pisciniers to clinch the Gold Fish Bowl!"
"Wait, hang on, Dan."
"What?"
"Shanore hasn't surfaced, I see – is that oil in the water? Boiling?"
Lian's eyes stung. She tried to breath against the chest-crunching adrenaline and gagged on air turned acrid. The heat alarms had stopped and her dash was flickering. Electrical fault. Cracked casing in the engine, leaking into the hull. The bike was doomed. What was her depth? She couldn't see clearly.
There was hissing, growing louder, somewhere around her feet. She couldn't tell which direction was up, had the bike rolled over again? It was getting hotter – was there a fire in her cockpit? Could be hot water coming in through the engine.
If the cockpit failed she was below recovery depth for certain, the pressure would drive all the air out of her lungs in seconds. She reached her hand down the side of her seat for the emergency ripcord – and jerked back, sharply, as something splashed scalding across the back of her hand. Tried the other side, straining now, as if maybe the bike was on its side, gravity working against her, got her fingers on the loop, pulled.
For a moment the system worked, the roar of inflating buoyancy balloons displacing the groans of the dying bike. Then there was a BANG so loud that Lian saw stars. The bike wrenched, tumbling, and then the water caught it again in a crushing fist.
"Oh this is terrible! Her balloon burst! She's in real trouble down there, where are the emergency team?"
"I'm looking out the window of our commentary pod, Crit, they're scrambling, I think they must have been flatfooted, not expecting another dive!"
"That's not good enough! Lian Shanore has just won the championship, we can't lose another world champion like this!"
"Wait, Crittan, look, look over at the Pisciniers'- Ana's, Temperance is diving, she's going in after her!"
The noise was almost worse than the heat, a wall of static that seemed to get inside Lian's eyeballs. Her calves were burning but she couldn't free her ankles from her stirrups. It was impossible to see, her eyes were streaming and the whole cockpit was juddering.
A crunch somewhere behind her made her flinch, the reflex yanking one foot free. It felt almost like she'd torn it off at the ankle. Dimly she was aware she was thrashing, fighting against the straps that bound her into her seat. Her coffin.
Then, somehow, suddenly, the noise was different. Roaring, rushing, but moving. The light in the cockpit changed, brighter and bluer. Her ears popped, painful even through all the other discomforts. Deliriously, she had a vision of the pikeshark come back to finish her off, or else save? her?
"Incredible! Anavasin Temperance surfaces and she's got Shanore's flobike, she did to Shanore exactly what she was trying to do to that pikeshark!"
"The crowd are going wild! What an incredible stunt!"
"I just hope it's enough, Dan, that bike is a wreck, look at the trail it's left in the water."
"We'll soon see, Crit, the med team are right there, there go the pop-floats."
"Ana's out of her cockpit, look, this has to be one of the greatest acts of sporting magnanimity in defeat that I have ever seen in my life."
The cockpit opened and Lian clenched herself up small as she could, as if that could protect from the drowning crush of water. Instead, there was a gout of cool air, sting-bright daylight, voices. She sagged against her harness straps.
For a few minutes the world was a blur, crowd noise distant in a way she knew had to indicate hearing impairment. By the time she could see straight, she was lying on the dock, and what she saw was a loose circle of concerned and busy faces as the medics attended to her. Cold-creams on the burns on her arm and legs. A mask across her face, chill oxygen blowing gently up her nostrils.
With a concentrated effort of will, she hauled in a deep breath, enough to make her neck and shoulders protest their strains. Reassuring murmurs – not murmurs, but words muted by the damage to her ears – from the medics. Her burnt arm was immobilized. Cautiously, she raised the other from the elbow, waved awkwardly with that hand.
"Thank heavens, she's alive, what a relief."
"The crowd appreciate that, listen to them."
"As do we all, Dan. As do we all. And Ana's heroics, too."
"I don't think they'll stop cheering for her for a long time, Crittan."
"Well-deserved. And, of course, thanks to her we'll have plenty more opportunities to watch this rivalry in future."
"Haha, let's hope it doesn't get quite this intense again."
"You fishin' idiot," Ana said as the doctor helped Lian to her feet.
"Who's the bigger-" Lian tried to quip back and stopped, coughing.
"You, you're the bigger idiot." Ana took the doctor's place, catching Lian's arm and drawing it over her shoulder. There was a surge of noisy approval from the crowd. "I'm the hero who saved the world champion."
"Fish you." Lian coughed again, unable to stand straight. She felt like she'd inhaled a bucket of water, the whole inside of her chest hurt.
"Stealing my thunder."
"You still won, bitch." There was no rancor in Ana's voice. "The least you could say is thank you."
Cameras were flickering all around them, sideline reporters pressing in with questions, the medics overwhelmed trying to hold them back. Lian was dimly conscious of Terena and Von on one side holding the line, Ana's netters and coach somewhere on the other. She let her weight sag against her rival. Let her have this moment. The trophy was out there somewhere, and this year, finally, it would be Lian's name on it.
(By the way if you like fiction about ridiculous sports, my webnovel about dragon racing might appeal)