eatthepen | Hey Now,

Misc mecha short fic originally written for Cohost for the prompt 'Mech Pilot who loves deploying in swamps'. I think there was an intermediate fic that someone else posted to get to this point, but I can't remember what it was.

Hey Now

It was hot. Hot if you popped the cockpit hatch and tried to cope with the stinking humidity, hot if you kept it closed and fell back on your walker platform's desperate attempt at AC. Joce alternated at roughly half-hour intervals, currently slouching shrimp-backed in the bottom of her seat, harness undone, ankles hooked over the lip of the front bulkhead.

Above, the sky was just starting to shade towards sunset, the colour distinctly richer than the drab green-browns of the swamp. Her platform stood four-foot-ankle-deep in the water, mesh-frame mudshoes planted in the muck. The footing was stable, at least for now. If they had to move in a hurry it would be a pain, but the radar was clear.

"Hey, Collins," Rashma's voice crackled from the radio, "got any rhymes for 'swamp'?"

Joce let her head roll sideways and glared in the direction of her squadmate's plat. It stood a good six feet taller than her own, and much wider, its figure bulked by the massive missile pods mounted to its shoulders. She glared, thumbing her mic live. "The fuck're you asking for?"

"Working on a song."

At the tone of his voice, Joce felt her mood and her face darken. "Fuckin' don't, Rash, this deployment sucks enough already."

"No, listen, it's a good one, I promise."

"Your last 'good one' got you fuckin' cited for radio regs."

"Yeah but Freddo's not in shortwave range this time." There was the barest pause for breath, too quick for Joce to react, and then Rashma pressed on, "Listen: SAM battery wants targets/I'll take out all your starjets, I am the sharpest shot in this swa-amp-"

"Fuckin' shit, Rash, if you weren't in a plat right now I'd walk over there and stomp your face in."

"Stomp! That's it, I knew there had to be one."