The cockpit hummed—deep, steady, familiar in a way nothing should be mere seconds after being "reborn."
Silas blinked hard. The panoramic screens flickered to life around him like a waking eye.
Silas: "Oh… fuck, what hit me in the head?"
A presence—not a sound, not a voice through speakers—pressed into his skull.
???: Awaken.
Silas: "Want?"
???: You have much work to do for this conversation to move forward. I will fill in the gaps so you don't waste time asking questions.
The presence felt old. Impatient. Clinical.
Yes, you died. Yes, you were resurrected into another world. No, this place is not magical; it is built on science. The ability I implanted into your new body comes from another reality—the Worm universe—though altered. The technology you create will be reverse-engineerable, reproducible, comprehensible to others. Your power merely fills in the gaps in your understanding so you are never bottlenecked by what you don't know.
Silas swallowed.
Silas: "…okkk?"
Good. You are learning. There is no need to speak. I can read your thoughts. I gave you a starting point, and now you are inside it. Look around.
Silas finally did.
Confined space. Black padded walls. A pilot's couch. Dual hand controls. Pedals. Screens. Vibration through the frame like a giant heart beating under steel.
A cockpit.
This is the machine I granted you.
Silas blinked again as recognition slammed into him like a dropkick from orbit.
Silas: "ZGMF-X88S… Gaia Gundam?"
The displays around him shifted seamlessly into labeled schematics, as if reacting to the confirmation in his mind. He pulled up the stats, reciting them under his breath like a prayer from a past life.
• Ultracompact fusion reactor
• 17.8 meters tall
• 69.85 tons
• Beam sabers
• Beam rifle
• Variable Phase Shift armor
• MA mode like a quadrupedal BuCUE
Silas: "…yep. That's what I remember from the databooks. God, I was a Gundam fan."
But there were differences. Small ones. He noticed them instantly.
Weapon ports slightly rearranged. Cooling vents reshaped. The thruster wing assembly more compact. The energy output reading was higher than SEED canon should allow.
His new power tuned it automatically.
This version is yours. Not copied, not stolen. Recreated through your ability, and thus compliant with the rules of this universe. The presence sounded pleased. BattleTech will attempt to understand it—and they will. You will give them many questions.
Silas's breath hitched.
BattleTech. A universe full of:
• House wars
• Lostech
• Mechs that were primitive compared to the monster he sat inside
• A brutal economy
• Mercenary life
• Violence baked into survival
Silas: "…Why me? Why give me this? Why put me here?"
No.
The dismissal hit like a slap.
You are not entitled to the reason. Accept the second chance. Move forward.
The presence withdrew—like fog evaporating under harsh sunlight.
Silence.
Only the low vibration of the ultracompact reactor remained.
Silas rested his hands on the controls. They fit perfectly.
Silas (quiet): "…So this is real."
The Gaia's OS chimed.
INITIATING PRIMARY SYSTEM BOOT.
ALL PHASE-SHIFT PLATES READY.
MA MODE TRANSFORMATION SYSTEM: STANDBY.
The screens showed barren rocky terrain outside. A canyon. A sky lit by two suns. Wherever he was, it wasn't any map he recognized.
Then the last words of the presence echoed through his mind:
Now go. Begin your new life.
Silas tightened his grip.
Silas: "…Alright. Let's see what a Gundam can do in BattleTech."
He nudged the throttle.
The Gaia moved—smooth, precise, terrifyingly responsive—like stepping into a new body that was purpose-built for war.
A slow smile spread over his face.
——————///
Elsewhere, outside the facility…
PI9 was a small, dust-choked world on the far edge of the Rim, tucked into a quiet corner of the Periphery. It survived—barely—on the strength of its factories: endless lines of industrial presses and worn-down machining rigs producing one thing well enough to sell off-world.
Ballistic ammunition.
Millions of rounds a year. Cheap. Reliable. Needed everywhere.
It kept the planet on the trade lanes, but it never made PI9 rich. Power was shared between several minor governors, each holding just enough influence to matter and not enough to challenge the others. The militia was small and half-trained, equipped with two aging light 'Mechs and a scattering of emplaced autocannon turrets.
Just enough to discourage scavengers.
Not enough to stop what arrived next.
The raiders didn't appear like the usual handful of rusted pirate hulls. They came in-system hard and fast with real tonnage: multiple lances of lights and mediums, and at least one heavy lance anchoring the formation.
Too organized. Too disciplined. Too well-equipped.
Pirates shouldn't have had this much steel.
Planetary defenses collapsed in minutes. The militiamen died buying time for civilians to flee. The raiders—wearing black and red—showed the same mercy a blowtorch showed metal.
They spread across the settlements like a disease, tearing open bunkers, looting warehouses, dragging people from their homes.
And that was when Silas emerged.
Silas' POV
Stepping out of the underground facility, I still felt the ghost of the simulator in my hands—the smooth flow of Gaia's controls, the strength in her limbs, the way her reactor hummed like a living thing. A few hours of practice was all it took for instinct to settle in; she moved with me, not under me.
As I cleared the treeline, I spotted a city on the horizon—small buildings, thin plumes of smoke, nothing unusual.
Until the smoke thickened.
Until I heard the gunfire.
Until I saw the flashes of PPC fire against the skyline.
"Perfect," I muttered. "Of course the one place with answers is on fire."
I pushed Gaia forward, picking up speed across the flat scrubland.
When I crested the ridge overlooking the town, my breath caught.
A lance of pirate 'Mechs—light and medium frames—hammered the city's defenses. Autocannon turrets lay in burning heaps. One of the militia's old light 'Mechs was down, its cockpit caved in by repeated blows.
And below all that, scattered between the falling buildings…
Civilians. Running. Screaming. Dying.
The black-and-red raiders didn't even hesitate. Anyone who ran was cut down.
My hands tightened on the controls.
Killing soldiers was one thing.
They picked a fight. They knew the risk.
But civilians?
Civilians never asked for this war.
A heat rose in my chest—anger, disgust, something primal—and all of it settled into a single, razor-sharp decision.
Gaia felt it.
Or maybe she just responded to me.
I triggered the transformation sequence.
The mech folded, limbs shifting and locking into place, chassis rotating as the plates slid and reshaped. In seconds she dropped down onto four limbs—the beast form—her reactor surging with renewed power as her weight shifted low and predatory.
The world slowed.
My breathing steadied.
The target locked in front of me.
I kicked forward.
Gaia ran.
Straight toward the raiders.
Straight into the fire.
——————///
Silas' POV
The ground blurred beneath Gaia's claws as I tore across the cracked terrain. Every stride felt like surfing a controlled explosion—shock absorbers drinking impacts, the MA-frame flexing like a hunting animal.
Wind roared against the armor plating.
The city grew larger.
The smoke grew darker.
The screams got louder.
Targets emerged on my HUD before I could consciously register them.
PNT-9R Panther
Range: 840 meters
Status: Firing on civilian block
A blue-white PPC lance cracked across the street, vaporizing a man who hadn't run fast enough.
My teeth clenched hard enough to hurt.
Another marker flashed in:
COM-2D Commando
SRMs cycling
Chasing survivors between collapsed buildings
And a third, heavier signature:
WVR-6R Wolverine
Advancing through the main avenue
Autocannon tearing into houses
Then the last one stepped into view from behind a burning warehouse.
My blood went cold.
HBK-4G Hunchback
AC/20 spool-up detected
Target: Fleeing civilians
The mech raised its right torso block—its oversized cannon glowed red-hot at the barrel.
The pilot was going to fire into a crowd.
Something in me snapped.
Silas: "Oh hell no."
I dropped Gaia's hips, digging in with the claws. The reactor kicked power through the limbs and—
I launched.
A four-legged sprint became a full predatory charge.
Dust kicked up behind me like the wake of a speeding tank.
The Panther pivoted its torso—
Panther Pilot (open comm, panicked): "—what the hell is that thi—"
Too slow.
Gaia accelerated past 200 kph in seconds, bounding low and fast, a predator cutting a path across the city outskirts. The Panther fired a rushed PPC shot that seared the air over my left flank.
Silas: "Not today."
I juked sideways, claws digging into asphalt, and slammed into the Panther's legs at full speed. Metal screamed as the lighter mech toppled, tumbling into a collapsed storefront.
Before it could get up, I planted Gaia's forelimb on its torso.
The armor buckled.
The cockpit alarms went wild on their side.
I didn't hesitate.
One Beam Blade ignited.
A crescent of molten light.
It plunged through the Panther's cockpit like slicing through butter.
The mech twitched.
Then stilled.
Silas (breathing hard): "…One."
The Commando opened fire next—SRMs blossoming across my flank. The explosions rolled across Gaia's Variable Phase Shift armor, the energy plates flaring, hungry for kinetic shock.
Gaia absorbed it.
Barely a scratch.
The Commando pilot swore and tried to retreat behind debris.
Silas: "Not letting you run."
I kicked into a sideways leap—Gaia bounding between ruined walls—closing distance faster than the pirate could process.
The Commando raised its SRM rack—
Too late.
I hit him like a freight train.
The smaller mech cartwheeled end over end, smashing into a parking structure. Before it could recover, I pounced again, landing on its chest, beams flaring along Gaia's claws as I raked through armor plating.
Its reactor died in seconds.
Silas: "Two."
The Wolverine roared into view next—a real threat, heavier, meaner, more stable.
Its autocannon barked, tearing chunks of concrete where I'd stood half a second ago.
The veteran pilot found his nerve fast.
Wolverine Pilot (open comm): "Unknown contact! Unknown contact! It's moving like a damned animal—!"
I didn't give him time to finish.
He fired again—Gaia vaulted onto a three-story building, claws punching into the roof, weight distributing perfectly. I dashed across the top, jumped, landed behind him—
He tried to rotate torso.
Too slow.
I triggered the MA → MS conversion mid-motion.
Gaia unfolded upward in a single vertical snap of plates and limbs.
Now towering behind the Wolverine in full mobile-suit silhouette.
My left hand grabbed the Wolverine's shoulder joint.
My right ignited a Beam Saber.
Silas: "Three."
I drove it straight into the torso block.
The Wolverine detonated internally—the ammo cooking off in a violent plume. The shockwave toppled a nearby comms tower.
And that left only the big one.
The Hunchback.
It turned toward me with mechanical slowness and absolute confidence—AC/20 tracking across the street like a guillotine with a targeting reticle.
Hunchback Pilot (calm, controlled):
"Don't know what you are, but you're dying first."
The cannon barrel spun up—
A low, murderous thrum—
A vibration through the air—
Silas: "…Shit."
I kicked Gaia into a charge just as the AC/20 fired.
The world turned into thunder.
A shell the size of my forearm ripped past my right flank, exploding a warehouse behind me into a fireball.
I swerved.
Another shot.
Another crater.
The Hunchback advanced steadily, methodical and fearless.
Unlike the others, he wasn't shocked.
He'd killed hundreds before.
He was a butcher built for one job.
And that job was killing things bigger than him.
Silas (teeth gritted):
"You picked the wrong world to raid, asshole."
I let Gaia drop back into MA mode mid-run.
The frame snapped down low.
The speed spiked again.
The Hunchback fired one more round—
It missed by inches.
And then Gaia was on him.
I hit the Hunchback's torso at full sprint—
The monster AC/20 barrel bent sideways under Gaia's weight—
The mech staggered, metal groaning—
I leapt again, up and over him, landing behind.
He started to turn—
I ignited both beam blades.
Silas: "Four."
And I carved through the Hunchback's gyro assembly with a blazing, molten X.
The mech collapsed, folding forward like a puppet with its strings cut.
Silence.
Only the burning city.
Only smoke and bodies.
Only my own breath, shaking in my chest as the reality of what I'd done—not just killed, but saved—finally hit me.
Silas (whispering):
"…What the hell have I dropped into?"
My sensors chimed.
New signatures detected.
Heavier.
More coordinated.
Closing fast.
The next lance was coming.
And they were pissed.
END
{Author: Please give me your thoughts and feelings on this work}