Drake-3 Wasteland Star System.
Inside the Celsa Mother Ship code-named X-187, an ear-splitting alarm was echoing.
Carol strode quickly across the bridge bathed in flashing red lights, her combat boots hammering a frantic rhythm on the custom alloy floor.
This mother ship had just endured a one-sided slaughter.
"Commander."
A humanoid mecha knelt before her on one knee, mechanical eyes glowing with an eerie blue light.
"Enemy fleet, all 187 units annihilated. Our losses: 21 mechas."
"The X-187 Interstellar Mother Ship is now fully under control…"
Carol gave a nod of her chin, never pausing her pace.
Soon.
She arrived at the vast command cabin of the Interstellar Mother Ship.
The chamber was littered with signs of battle everywhere.
In the corner lay several broken unmanned mechas, sizzling with arcs of electric current.
Carol just glanced over before looking away.
In every war, there are sacrifices.
Besides…
