It’s hard to tell how long she’s been in this cell. Three days, maybe a week at most, at least by her own estimations. They’ve kept her fed, but it’s probably laced with who knows what, to soften her up. 

Bastards.

Juniper remembers them dragging her from Ixion’s cockpit. From there, waking in an infirmary, only to black out again. It’s far too quiet in here for a prison cell, makes her wonder what’s going to happen to her. Darkness encapsulates her cell, save for a small light that peeks through the heavy door of her cell.

Difficult to say whether Laila made it out, or if she was the one who dealt the killing blow to that mech. Its movements were unlike anything either had seen before. No matter how much damage it took, it kept attacking. 

Probably best not to dwell on it. Laila is out there somewhere, nursing her wounds, so she can rescue Juniper. Though, with the shape Argos was left in, it might be a bit before rescue comes. So she’ll just need to hold out until then.

Easy.

She’s had training in resisting interrogation, it’s the first thing they teach you in training. Besides, she wouldn’t be who she is, if she hasn’t had at least one or two run-ins with tough Imperials. Though she isn’t that person anymore, it’s so easy to slip into the facade of the old Juniper.

A buzzer breaks the unnerving silence, followed by the sound of locks turning. Juniper watches the door carefully as it opens, and a strange woman steps through. 

She’s wearing an odd uniform - Leather, black as the night sky, a cap just as dark, complimented with a long coat that adds to air of mystery surrounding her, and snow-white hair, that reminds Juniper of home for some reason. There’s a smile on her face, like she’s happy to see the captive pilot.

Kneeling down to face her captive, the mysterious woman cups the pilot’s chin in her gloved-hand. The sharp gaze of this mysterious woman studies Juniper, as she had done only moments ago. “Imagine my surprise, to learn that not only had my hound been slain, but by the ‘Angel of Death’ no less.” She releases her hold on Juniper’s chin with a sly smile.

Gods, she always hated that moniker.

“....Who are you?” Juniper speaks with a hoarse voice. It’s been days since she’s spoken and they’ve kept her water intake to a minimum.

Just another way to hurt her and get her to talk.

The woman grins, leaning in close to Juniper’s face. “My name is not important right now, you will learn that in due time. I do however have questions and you very clearly need medical treatment. If you answer my questions, our medical staff will treat your injuries. If not–”

“Fuck you, I’m not telling you shit.” Juniper spits a bloody lump of phlegm at her interrogator. It’s cute that they promise medical treatment for questions. But she isn’t in the business of trading info for promises of medical attention.

Juniper’s screams echo throughout the small cell, being jolted with a taser to the stomach and chest. Pain surges throughout her already wounded body, leaving her on the ground in tremendous pain. Then, as she’s shocked again, everything begins to blur.

The interrogator tsks, kicking Juniper’s stomach with her boot. “If that is how you wish to play, then so be it. But, don’t say I did not warn you.” She turns on her heel, exiting through the heavy steel doors of the cell.

Now, as she finally fades into unconsciousness, Juniper can only hope that Laila is out there somewhere, plotting a rescue. There is nothing Juniper wouldn’t do to be reunited with her again. Even if it means having to endure torture.

***

Juniper wakes up in a panic at the sensation of a needle stabbing her neck. Finding herself unable to move, she cries out in panic, only to be shushed by a gloved finger. Her struggles are in vain, as her limbs are cuffed to the metal table, leaving to only stare daggers at her captor.

“As I was saying, Lieutenant. There are two ways to go about this, but as you seem content to force my hand, you will answer my questions. Or I will make things worse for you.” The interrogator says, never breaking eye contact with Juniper.

Juniper can see stars as her captor speaks, they hurt to stare at but, she can’t look away.

“If you’re done fighting me, I’d like to start with your name and rank.” The blurry-woman’s words are as sweet as honey. Against her better judgment, Juniper wants another taste. She would say or do anything for it. 

What did they do to her head? 

“L-Lieutenant J-Juniper Sladek…p–pilot.” She can’t figure out the angle here. They clearly know who she is already, but it’s hard to think straight. Her head feels like it’s about to split open, and her vision is a blurry, fractured mess.

“Your mission in Aurelia, what was it?” She shoots Juniper a sharp look, to remind her of the consequences of fighting. 

What was her mission? Juniper’s head pounds with every thought. "Oh gods, m–my head–” Pain shoots through her every limb, as she desperately tries to get it under control.

The woman shakes her head.“Please, do try to focus. I know you’re in pain, but I assure you, you will be well taken care of, as long as you cooperate.” She comforts Juniper, as though she actually cared for her captive’s wellbeing. But she doesn’t, Juniper doesn’t even care for herself.

“New mech–destroy it. W-We came up empty-handed, g-got ambushed instead.” For every minute that passes, the stars increase in numbers, along with the pain. If she focuses for long enough, Juniper swears they were whispering.

This must be what dying feels like. 

The interrogator for her part has a sympathetic look to her face as she looks over the battered pilot. “Come now, Lieutenant, would you like to learn a secret?” She leans across the table, whispering into Juniper’s ear. “Mission accomplished. She was a mutt, barely fit for service, but such an obedient one. Congratulations, Lieutenant Sladek.”

There’s a demented smile on the face of the interrogator, one that increases the number of stars in Juniper’s vision. None of this makes sense. Not her words, not even that mech. Whatever piloted it couldn’t be human. 

Her captor smirks, watching as Juniper dissects her every word. “You must be filled with so many questions. Ones that would give away the game, if I were to answer. However, I’m feeling generous and will answer one in particular–” Sliding a tablet across the table to Juniper, an image is displayed on it that makes her sick to her stomach. “–These are the remains of Argos. Wouldn’t you agree, that my hound did a lovely job?” 

Argos has extreme damage throughout its body. One arm missing, another melted up to the elbow. A closeup of the cockpit reveals a body– Laila’s body. From the resolution alone, it’s difficult to say if she’s dead, but just the thought of it sends Juniper into dry heaves.

At the thought of Laila being dead, the stars cease to exist, leaving Juniper with an emptiness in their place. It’s too much to process, but what choice does she have? 

“It’s quite a shame what happened there, but such is what happens when you refuse a simple request, I suppose.” The woman reaches over, lifting Juniper’s chin. “Come now, save your tears. Did you shed any tears for the brave Imperial pilots you killed?” 

“No, why would I?” Juniper coldly replies through her tears.

“Such is war after all, Lieutenant Sladek.” Her captor adds, releasing her grip. 

Laila is still coming to rescue me, isn’t she? 

She’s just playing mind games, right?

For every second she stares at the photo, a part of her begins to realize that Laila is dead. Juniper got Laila killed. It’s Juniper's fault that Laila is gone. Of course, it was Juniper's fault, death follows her across the battlefield. Laila was just the latest victim of Juniper’s failings. 

It’s all finally too much for her to bear and she breaks down crying over the loss of Laila. Tears staining her face and falling onto the metal table below her. Their dream is dead and it’s her fault. 

“Dry your tears, Lieutenant, the important thing is that you survived.” That bitch wears a reassuring smile, one that makes Juniper want to kill her. What would be the point though, it wouldn’t change anything now. “You will be fun to break, Juniper.” 

Anger overtakes sorrow and Juniper lunges across at the bitch who killed Laila. Or she would, were it not for the cuffs binding her. Instead, chooses to snarl at her captor, plotting revenge in her head. 

That imperial bitch laughs, her smile growing more demented in the process. “I will enjoy snuffing out that fire and remaking you into something useful.” 

Juniper recoils in fear, lips quivering. This woman is insane, whatever she’s planning, it will be what kills Juniper in the end. Not a gun, not an enemy pilot, not even her own hand; This insane bitch will be what kills her.

“You must be in incredible pain with a broken arm and the concussion. It would be a shame to see you die, because you refused treatment. But don’t worry, Juniper, I won’t hurt you. No, I’ll let you hurt yourself.”

“Y–You’re demented, if you think that I’ll–I’ll–” Juniper lets out a hacking cough, the world around her goes black as her head is slammed against the table. Gods, please just let her die. 

***

Juniper’s vision is hazy, bright lights, blurry figures and spots on the edges of her vision. She’s cold, so fucking cold, this isn’t the same room she was being interrogated in, that much she can ascertain. It’s hard to tell how long she’s been out for, but they clearly did something to her.

Someone is standing over her, someone blurry. They must be taking pity on this poor demented soul, before her execution.

“Come back to me, Juniper, I’m not quite done with you.” The voice of that demented bitch rings in her ears. “Oh, don’t give me that pouting look, Lieutenant Sladek, you must be in immense pain. But I will make it go away in due time.”

Her pain is deeper than physical injuries, it’s the pain of seeing people you’ve come to care for die in front of you. The Angel of Death came for Laila Praxian, it was inevitable. Just as all things are.

The blurry figure, whom she presumes to be her captor, stares down at her. “I’ve read through your file, it’s quite impressive. Although, what really catches my eye is your mech, Ixion. I do wonder how you managed to get your hands on such a unit.” 

Juniper wheezes, taking in a strained breath. “I…I don’t–” From the injuries she sustained it’s difficult to breath, even now she feels her breath slipping away. She just needs to close her eyes, then she can be with Laila. But she has no such luck, feeling the air rushing to fill her lungs.

The interrogator laughs, leaning down to pet Juniper’s head. “Come now, Juniper, I have one more question for you. Then, I promise to make the pain stop. Sabac Ridge, you and Laila Praxian, took down fifteen Imperial mechs each, clearing the way for your troops to move forward. Did you ever feel even a shred of remorse for those you killed?”

Juniper stays silent, staring at the blurry woman. 

The blurry-Imperial lifts Juniper up by the hair, sending pain shooting through her yet again. “Come now, Lieutenant. You’ve got five stars tattooed onto your collar bone, you must have enjoyed ending their lives, did you not?”

The captive-pilot spits at the woman holding her hair. “I fucking killed them, it’s just like you said, ‘such is war’, right, you insane bitch?” She could laugh right now, if laughing didn’t hurt so damn much.

“Indeed, Lieutenant, but you should show respect for a superior officer–” She towers above Juniper, her boot slamming into the lieutenant’s torso over and over again, until the prisoner finally hacks up blood. “You should ask yourself who within your organization would benefit from selling out the infamous Wardog Squadron?” 

“W–What?” 

“It was of course, no coincidence that you encountered my hound. Nor that a single Doru , was stationed near one of your checkpoints. You, my dear Lieutenant Sladek, have been sold out.” She dusts herself off, walking away from the heaving and hurling pilot.

Of course, they were sold out, it makes too much sense for this to have been a coincidence. A comrade more than eager to roll over and die for the Empire. Gods, how did she not see it sooner? 

It was probably retaliation for someone dying, due to Juniper’s failings. 

She hates herself for being such a fucking coward. 

The room goes dark as she’s finally left alone with her thoughts. Laila promised her that this would be their last mission. They could run away, start anew. It was of course, a lie, but she bought into it, because she would have done anything for Laila.

***

She wakes up in a cold sweat, mind still reeling from a nightmare. Though the physical pain has been lessened from the extensive drugs they’ve injected her with, the mental anguish still leaves her scared. Laila isn’t here to comfort her, because she’s dead.

It’s because of Juniper that Laila is dead. 

So, why does she not feel anything about the thought? 

Instead, a realization crosses her mind. Someone–not the same woman from before– is standing in front of the cell door, staring at her. In the darkness it’s difficult to make out who the person is, but they remain silent.

Cowering in the corner, like the weakling she is, the figure approaches Juniper and she wants to scream. But it dies in her throat, while they stand over her, placing a hand on her shoulder. It’s now that she can make out a dog-mask on their face.

What sort of monster is this? 

Perhaps Juniper can’t scream because of the stars. Everywhere she looks, the stars increase in number, whispering into her head. The dog-figure says nothing to her, motioning for her to follow. Any thought of fighting back or resisting dies quickly.

Starlight intrudes into everything. Whispers of sweet words flood her thoughts. Even now, when she stares into the blank eyes of the dog-mask, starlight stares back. Each whisper is another pervasive thought that tells her to follow.

Then, as she blinks, she realizes she isn’t in her cell anymore. It’s far too white in here, the brightness hurts. Dog-mask eases her into the chair, which is when she notices their uniform.

It’s unmistakably a rebel pilot’s jumpsuit, only tattered and stained. Was this masked person once like Juniper? Broken and in search of a way to stop the pain?

Poor bastard, there is no way to end the pain. You just become numb to it one day and then you’re dead.

Cold leather straps are wound tightly around her wrists and ankles, keeping her bound to the chair. There’s no sense in fighting it, the starlight numbs her every sensation. A visor lowers from the ceiling, a mess of wires protruding out of it. As it lowers onto her head, she stares into space, not bothering to fight.

What’s the point in fighting? 

No, instead of fighting, Juniper drifts off, letting the static take hold of her vision. A cool liquid enters her neck, easing what little resistance she could muster. Impossible to tell what she was injected with, but it doesn’t matter. The stars grow around her, leaving her mind in peaceful bliss.

Bright flashing lights break up the darkness, a static sound playing in her ear in tandem with the lights. Pain sears through her head, as if at any moment it was going to split open. It only worsens as time moves forward.

Starlight begins fading, replaced with a sea of static. It calls to her, tells her to drown herself within it. It’s the only way she can be fixed.

Her lips tremble, but a calming voice in her ear sooths her. It doesn’t matter what they’re saying, only that It feels good to listen to her. She promises to fix Juniper, to make her better and isn’t that enough?

Once the static finally overtakes her very being, she’s at peace. An old memory fills her head with peaceful nostalgia, letting her drift off endlessly into it.

Normally the skies are far too scarred to see much. But after a particular mission, it was just Juniper and Laila laying in the cockpit of Ixion, staring up at the stars. She remembers it so well, it was their first kiss, the moment Juniper realized she was in love with Laila.

The day she signed up to fight for the rebellion and became part of something greater.

Lost in a sea of her memories, it’s hard to tell how long ago they returned her to her cell. Laila is dead and it’s her fault. She should have listened to the multiple other times Laila expressed concern. Instead, she was shutout, because Juniper was afraid of showing even her the extent of how broken she was.

Until it was too late.

Every time she wakes up, it’s the same thing, the dog-masked orderly standing in her cell, leading her to, what she refers to as the White Room. She has so many burning questions for them, but neither ever speaks to the other. They walk in silence, perhaps guided by the same starlight.

Then, once she’s strapped in and the images flash in her head, she sees the stars again. She’s laying on a hill, Laila’s hand holding hers. For hours, they talked about nothing and everything at the same time, enjoying being with each other.

It’s where they decided they would run away together some day. Laila had done her homework and found a forest that hadn’t been touched by the fighting. It was tucked away somewhere deep, far from any imperial or rebel strongholds. They’d live off the land, raise livestock for food and if things got bad, they’d always have each other.

That was before the nightmares got worse. Before Juniper closed herself off to even Laila. Then, Laila had to start talking Juniper out of her panic attacks, ensure that she wasn’t going to shut down in a fight.

She broke down during a fight anyway, because Laila got hurt. She told Juniper to run, because she knew that her partner wasn’t in the right headspace. That’s why Laila died in the end.

Juniper’s eyes shoot open and she finds herself back in her cell once more, but there’s actual light in it this time. Handler stands behind the cell door, having waited for her to awaken. She doesn’t know why she knows the name “Handler”, but it feels right to address her captor as such.

As Handler enters the cell, Juniper is still. She doesn’t attack, nor say a word.

If she had any fight left in her, she would run. Instead, she’s left feeling dead inside, wanting nothing more than to feel the same on the outside. There is no point in life anymore, she realizes how worthless her actions always were.

She only ever created more bloodshed.

When Handler leans over to pet Juniper’s head, like the dog she’s quickly becoming, she recoils in pain from the starlight. Handler is made out of stars, the same stars Juniper used to stare up at with Laila.

Juniper writhes in pain on the ground, gaze fixed on the bright ceiling. More flashes, more static, it hurts so fucking much, she just wants to scream. It repeats endlessly for what feels like eternity.

Each time it gets worse, until her head finally splits open, and the starlight spills out from it, leaving her vision a blurry mess. The relief is short-lived as the pain intensifies the power of the whispers. Every word that spills from the stars is about her failings.

It’s her fault, Laila is dead. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry!!!” She screams in pain, but no one hears her. The loneliness sets in again, without Laila by her side.

Bright lights shatter, surrounding her in complete darkness, illuminated only by starlight.

The same stars she would lay under with Laila, twisted and deformed. It makes her stomach churn, her breath hitch and her entire body burn. The flames replace every last one of the twinkling stars, the soft gentle whispers replaced by a shadowy figure. 

She crawls towards towards the shadowy-figure on instinct, in the hopes of them fixing the pain. They pet her head, uttering a single phrase “Good Dog,” that feels better than even a thousand orgasms combined. She would do anything to hear those words again, to feel that again.

Out of the flames, the shadowy-figure steps out from it, revealing themselves. A tall woman clad in black leathers, She wears a gentle smile on her face, as though to reassure Juniper that she can fix her. 

Handler.

Juniper has a dead look in her eyes when she stares at Handler. Handler speaks, but her words are replaced with a static that threatens to erase Juniper’s identity. She is but an empty shell of a person, Handler knows the truth, Handler always knew the truth. Even before Juniper did.

Juniper can’t remember the last time she felt anything but pain. Every night, another nightmare and every mission, another panic attack. The panic attacks only got worse as time went on. She remembers having a panic attack in the cockpit, how she fired on an ally by mistake during it. 

No one ever looked at her the same again.

Handler looks down on her, like they all did. But she does not look down on her with pity or disgust, she looks down on Juniper with concern in her eyes. No one ever cared about Juniper, she was always alone. Adrift in the sea of static, as she is now. 

Handler is the only one who can save Juniper, but she doesn’t deserve it. Her life is forfeit, her soul stained with the blood of countless deaths. Handler should let the static consume Juniper and save someone who isn’t already broken.

Trembling, tearful eyes open to stare at Handler. Juniper doesn’t have to beg for the pain to go away anymore. Handler will make it all go away, she promised. Only she knows how broken Juniper actually is. 

“I will make your pain go away, Juniper. But only if you accept my hand.” Handler’s words are gentle, across the storm raging inside Juniper’s head.

When Juniper accepts the hand, that is when Handler stabs her in the neck, the gentle smile of Handler twisting as the liquid is injected into her veins. This all a part of Handler’s love, her gift. One Juniper is undeserving of. 

Handler is the one who controls the stars, whose whispers echo throughout each star. Without her, there is no starlight, no whisper. Juniper would be less than nothing, if not for the whisper of the stars.

“You’ve been broken for so long, Juniper. Is it any wonder that you lead your partner astray? You couldn’t trust her, because you couldn’t trust yourself. But I am here now and I will make your pain go away.” Starlight fades around Handler’s words, sending the broken-pilot crashing back to earth.

Gods, her head hurts, but it’s a different pain than before. Handler stands tall above her and she can do nothing but apologize over and over. She’s but a lowly mutt, cowering in front of her master. 

Handler looks down upon her, saying nothing. To her, Juniper must appear to be the broken woman that she hides so terribly. Her hands must be shaking right now, she’s sure of that much.

It’s hard to remember when the shaking started, but Laila always worried about it.

She would talk Juniper through the panic attacks, because Laila knew she wasn’t well. But Juniper was part of the problem. She threw herself into everything, in an effort to protect Laila. It wasn’t enough though, because it ended with Laila’s death.

Laila died protecting her, because she froze up in battle. The entire mission was half-assed from the get-go, because Juniper was lost in her own world. She didn’t even bother to attend briefings, choosing to disassociate in their quarters, where it was safe.

That night, when she was dealing with nightmares, they could have quit then and there. Command would have found a different group to pull this off without issue. Instead, she listened to Laila and thought that she could handle it.

Juniper was so fucking wrong.

Their dream was always a sham too. Something Laila said to make Juniper feel better. What territory the Empire doesn’t occupy, is either rad-soaked or so destroyed from fighting that it will take centuries to heal. 

Laila probably got rid of Juniper’s dog tags. She saw her the way everyone else saw her, as the Angel of Death–No, she saw Juniper for what she really was: A broken and pathetic woman, afraid of her own shadow.

You are not yet worthy of my gift. The voice of God, says to the lowly mutt in front of Her. 

Now, as she floats lifelessly in the static, her body is nothing more than an empty shell, waiting for its pilots orders. She once thought herself as strong, that she was capable of anything. But, the cold hard truth is: She is not.

***

As Juniper hesitantly returns to consciousness, the first thing she notices is the smell of something delicious. The aroma of steaming hot potatoes lingers in the air, and her stomach growls. The second thing she notices is the sound: a low, static tone that seems to harmonize with a steady trickle of water nearby.

Time has slowly become a blur since she was captured. Whatever they’ve done to her head has dulled her senses. Even with the amount she sleeps, she’s still tired. The static tone is the only thing that ever keeps her cognizant enough to not die in her sleep. It at least dulled the nightmares, as if that were to be applauded. 

Ever since she drowned within the sea of static, nothing has made sense. It would be wrong to say that she “escaped” it, because the static is with her even now. No, if anything, it baptized her, opening her eyes to her failures.

She pushed herself to the limit, ignoring Laila’s worries, trying desperately to shut her out. When that failed, Juniper led her to certain death. This is her punishment, to live with the fact that her partner is dead.

Laila is dead, because Juniper failed her.

That much has become clear after so long. She tried to hide the extent of her pain from even Laila, who wanted nothing more than to help. Because she was afraid that Laila would leave, like everyone else.

Gods, she hates herself for it.

At this point, everyone must hate her for it. She was never well respected amongst her comrades. Her own fault. She preferred to be alone, or with Laila, instead of socializing. Now that she is alone, it hurts more than any physical pain ever could.

Juniper moves her left arm, now mostly free of pain, save for the soreness that seems to come with it. Her head still threatens to spill open, but that seems to be due to the drugs they keep her on. It’s in everything: The food, water, she suspects they drug her in her sleep as well.

There was a time when she would have fought it, but she’s too tired to fight anymore. Most days she’s only conscious for a few hours at a time, before being brought back into the white room. They’ve done something to her head, but it’s impossible to know what exactly they did.

Only that she has not seen Handler since the static took over. She was not worthy of Her gift and was left to drown instead. Even now, after having embraced the static, it still haunts her. Telling her how unworthy of Her gift, Juniper was. 

She sighs and finally takes a bite of the potato.

At least it tastes better than the rations she kept in Ixion’s cockpit. Those were the worst, but they kept her fed on some of the longer missions she undertook. It almost makes her nostalgic thinking about those days.

Thousands of feet above the ground, she was free. Now, her wings have been clipped and she’s been trapped in a cage. She should hate this, but she can no longer feel anything.

Juniper sighs, stretching out on the concrete floor. It’s far too quiet in here, hard to get used to it, after having spent a good chunk of her life in noisy bases. The noise was comforting, helped to distract her from her thoughts.

Fighting back a bored yawn, she pulls out her dog tags from underneath her jumpsuit. The only reminder of Laila that Juniper has with her. She’s thought of getting rid of them, but she can’t bring herself to. 

It’s agonizing to think about Laila, makes Juniper’s head feel like it’s going to explode. Most days she can’t remember exactly who Laila was, only that she died because of Juniper.

But today, she remembers it clearly.

Laila Praxian - Squadron leader for Wardog Squadron, her wife. Two years ago, Juniper asked Laila to marry her, but in lieu of a wedding or rings, they exchanged dog tags and made a promise: When the war was over, they would make their relationship official.

Laila was the hero. She never faltered in combat, always kept a cool head, was even the better mech pilot. Juniper got her killed.

She should have listened to Laila, when she told Juniper to take a step back. But she couldn’t. Piloting is the only way she feels whole anymore. Without that, what is she?

Nothing.

Her usefulness runs out the minute she stops piloting. 

Anger and guilt swirl inside her head. She could blame Handler for Laila’s probable death, but would that be fair? No. The one to blame for it is herself.

If only she hadn’t been so weak, this could have been avoided. She would have realized there was a missile coming sooner. Or she would have turned down the mission. 

Ugh, the mission, that’s right, there was another team supposed to be running distraction further along. What happened to them? 

Probably dead.

Poor bastards.

Everything about this mission makes her wonder what happened to her mech?  

It was in rough shape after she was captured.  It’s hard to imagine the Imperials even know how to maintain a flight system. Just thinking about one of these idiot techs messing with the wrong line and getting themselves killed as a result, makes Juniper want to laugh. 

Bastards would deserve it for mishandling her baby.

Ironically, Ixion is an Imperial design. Designed to solve a problem on another front, but never built due to constraints of the flight system. Instead, the schematics rotted away in the Imperial Archives for three years, until Juniper found it.

Gods, she hopes they’re treating her mech well. Don’t treat it like another patchwork rebel-mech, please. It’s her pride and joy, she doesn’t want to spend months recalibrating everything, because some idiot tech crossed two wires that shouldn’t be crossed. 

The sound of the electronic doors unlocking and her cell door opening startles Juniper, shaking her from her thoughts. She turns her head expecting to see the usual dog-mask, taking her to the white room, for gods know how much more pain.

But to her surprise, the person standing before her is not them, it’s Handler. Gods, just staring at that cruel bitch, with the deranged smile on her face, makes the hair on the back of Juniper’s neck stand up. Whatever the reason She has personally come here for, it cannot be good. 

Juniper knows now that Handler is the only one can return the blissful stars. Gods, half of her wants to sink her to knees like a dog and beg for more starlight. While the other half wants to kill Her, like a rabid animal.

Juniper’s thoughts scream at her to kill Handler, to obey Her, an endless cycle of the two repeating, but she ignores them, letting the guilt consume her instead. Her hands are already too bloody, even if she escaped, what good would it do? 

Every step of Handler’s boots against the ground sends shockwaves rippling through Juniper’s head. Static fills her sights, her hearing, she is static again. Once more adrift in the sea of static, she’s an empty husk waiting for her Handler to command her.

“Look at you, groveling at my feet. I expected I would be breaking the Angel of Death, yet here I am watching a mutt grovel at my feet. Is it any wonder you’re so alone? So… broken. ” Handler’s words are a soft whisper through the static that call to her, forcing her to listen.

‘The Angel of Death’ was the nickname given to her after the Battle of Cerna. Having downed twenty imperial mechs in the span of five minutes. It was one of the bloodiest battles she’s ever witnessed. For every two Imperials killed, five of her comrades died in exchange.

That was the battle in which Wardog lost its number six and three pilots, who were providing Juniper with ground cover. It was her fault they died. She was careless in the air and they paid the price on the ground.

“Mmmmakeitstopmakeitstopmakeitstop” Juniper shouts to the painful memories. It was her fault they all died and now they’ve left her alone to suffer.

Handler stares at the pathetic pilot with disgust. “I can offer you freedom from your pain, but only if you take my hand. Or, I can let the guilt eat away at you forever.” She holds out Her hand, waiting for Juniper’s answer, as if it weren’t obvious. 

The broken-pilot takes the hand of her God without hesitation, allowing Her voice to seep through everything.  “Oh, Lieutenant” She says, stroking the broken-pilot’s hair. “I forgive you.”

Forgiveness.

It feels wrong to Juniper. She’s stained her hands with blood forever, there is no way to forgive her. But the forgiveness of her God still feels wonderful. She will wash away the blood from Juniper’s hands, there’s no doubt now.

“it hurts. please f–fix me.” Juniper quietly whines through her tears, trying desperately to hold herself together. The pain in her skull intensifies as more memories haunt her. 

Then, just as she resigns herself to death, a needle lodges itself into her brain. Blood pours down her nose, but the pain is temporary, quickly replaced with pleasure and a heat like no other. The stars have intensified, speaking aloud what they previously whispered.

“Come back to me, Lieutenant, there’s still much we have to discuss.” Handler’s voice echos through the stars, forcing Juniper to surface.

Her body jolts upright, staring blankly at Handler, who does not even seem slightly perturbed by this. She welcomes it with that unhinged smile of Hers. For the first time, Juniper understands her place in the world. 

Handler snaps Her fingers, getting Juniper’s attention. “Lieutenant Sladek, are you worthy of my gift?” 

Juniper stares confusedly at the question, but Handler only seems to regard her answer with laughter. She isn’t worthy, because she is nothing. The static, the stars, even being shot down, every last bit of it proves why she is nothing. 

“...no”

“Now you’re beginning to see the truth, Lieutenant. You are nothing, but I can make you into someone. Someone who is worthy of my gift. Someone who is not in constant pain. But I can’t do that if you aren’t willing.” Her words are as sweet as honey itself, how could anyone resist them?

Juniper’s pain is deep, deeper than anything else could penetrate. Laila once wanted to help her to heal and now she’s dead. On account of Juniper’s failings. She has nothing left to fight for now.

“Please,” Juniper mumbles, staring into the stars.

There is no going back, but what is there to go back to? 

Laila is dead. The Angel of Death struck again and killed another friendly. What’s left for Juniper in this world? 

As everything fades to black, she resigns herself to whatever is to come. She’s useless as a pilot, her nerves are shot. She’s useless as a human, too weak-willed. Maybe they’ll leave her to die. 

Would that be so bad?

***
During Juniper’s latest trip to the white room, they did something to her body.  Her memory is blank, save for the searing pain of implanting something into the nape of her neck. Despite her best efforts to scream, they kept her gagged the entire procedure. Her body has healed since then, or maybe the pain was dulled her senses, she doesn’t know anymore.

As Juniper lies on her cot, she’s left to remember Laila yet again. She would be disappointed in Juniper for how easily she surrendered. Laila never knew the true extent of the damage done to her partner, only that the panic attacks had gotten worse. She would never love Juniper had she known the truth.

Only Handler knows the truth, because She pried it out of Juniper’s head. What Handler offers in exchange is not love, it’s something Juniper is unworthy of: Forgiveness.

She forgives Juniper’s sins, like only a merciful God would. Her forgiveness though is something that may only be earned through obedience, otherwise it is hollow. 

“Juniper, wake up.” The voice of Handler rings through Juniper’s very being, that forces her awake.

Her vision, though still hazy, is full of stars, whose whispers help to relax Juniper. She’s gotten used to the stars and their odd little whispers that she can never fully understand. Handler’s words are hard to understand, but one word breaks through the noise: “Kneel.” 

Scrambling to her knees, Juniper stares at the starry-Handler with a blank expression. She reaches down, petting Juniper’s head for a moment, only to pull a shiny silver object from her Overcoat. It falls to the floor with a soft thud.

“I wish to offer you a choice, Juniper. Will you wear the muzzle and abandon your humanity? Or will you refuse it, and stand to face me?” Handler already knows the answer, it’s obvious, even to Juniper. 

Juniper doesn’t even stop to consider her choice, she grabs the muzzle, wrapping the cool metal around her face without hesitation. There was never a choice, because she was never human. She tried so desperately to be human, but it only led to grief and misery. 

Handler smirks, petting Juniper’s head once more. “You made the correct decision, Juniper. Though you may be a sinner, I will help you to repent.”

Now, as Handler fits a leash onto her collar, Juniper remains perfectly still. Any thoughts of fighting back have long since disappeared. 

“Come, I have something to show you.” Handler tugs on the leash, forcing Juniper to crawl alongside Handler, like any good dog would. Their walk through the underbelly of the base, though brief, leaves Handler with a smile on Her face. The same demented smile that Juniper remembers fearing once. Now she is far too dead inside to feel anything.

As they walk through a security door, the familiar smell of oil hits Juniper’s nose the moment it opens. A hangar, they’re in a hangar. She should be excited, seeing so many mechs on display, instead it only fills her with dread. Rows and rows of Dorus in various states of repair.

How many of these has she fought before?

“Come now, Lieutenant, I have a surprise for you.” Handler cheerfully says, as though She were giving the dead-eyed pilot a gift.

Juniper is led through a partition into a closed off section of hangar, reserved seemingly for only one mech - Ixion. The already tall mech, looks to have grown in the time she’s piloted it. Repaired and refitted with Imperial tech, the once Gunmetal Grey mech now stands tall in Imperial Black.

From a glance she can see that they’ve added something to it: A scythe. Black, with a shiny silver blade. Aegis had claws, Ixion now has a scythe, Handler must have a sense of humor to authorize such a weapon.

It sickens Juniper to her core.

Handler’s smile widens, watching Juniper’s reaction. “Do you like it, Lieutenant? I must admit the flight system did give technicians quite a headache to repair. Though, I suppose that’s why the project was abandoned, wasn’t it?”

For her part, Juniper’s face shows no visible reaction, only nodding obediently as she stares up at her mech, inspecting every inch of it.

“I’m sure you have many a burning question about your Ixion. Unfortunately I can only speak to the modifications I’ve had done to you.” Handler strokes the nape of Juniper’s neck, lightly inspecting the neural ports with a gloved-hand.

Gods, she should be scared, but she can’t find it in herself to feel anything.

Handler reads over a tablet, before turning her attention back to the muzzled-pilot. “I’ve received word from my superiors, that they wish to see you through your paces. As such, I’ve authorized a training exercise in two days time. I want you to familiarize yourself with the modifications made to Ixion. ” She leans down, unclipping the leash, allowing Juniper to stand. 

She gulps, staring blankly at her mech. There’s no way she pilot again, her nerves are shot, they–they–” Do I make myself clear, Lieutenant Sladek?”

“Yes, Sir.” Juniper responds automatically, as she climbs into the hatch of Ixion. The cockpit of her mech has been tainted. Everything is as it should be, save for one damning detail: A cable resting comfortably tucked into the cockpit seat. 

Once she’s seated, the cable connects into her neck, sending pain surging through her skull. Juniper screams and twitches, as it only gets worse. Then, as she blinks, she can see and feel everything all at once. It’s too much, she needs to rip this out and–

Juniper, can you hear me? Handler’s voice crackles over the radio. 

But there is no response from Juniper.

Juniper, I know you can hear me. Respond.

Handler’s commands are absolute, it forces Juniper to find her voice in the midst of it all. “S–Sir I–”

Juniper, I need you to calm down and focus on my voice. Can you do that for me? Handler’s voice is gentle, not angry, not even disappointed. Gentle.

Despite the raging storm within Juniper, Handler’s voice breaks through it all, calming it with only Her voice. It is impossible to disobey the voice of God. “Yes, Sir I–I’ll listen.”

I cannot authorize usage of your leash. However, I can and will authorize the veterinarian to treat whatever ails you. I will not do so though, unless you obey my orders.

Am I to be understood, Lieutenant?

“Yes, Sir.” Juniper calmly says, as the pain begins to subside.

Then, as the the cockpit begins sliding back into the chest compartment of Ixion, sealing Juniper behind layers upon layers of steel, a wave of calmness washes over her. Despite her failures, Handler forgives her. Nothing else matters now, but Her words. 

Juniper runs her hands over the muzzle still strapped to her face. It’s a comforting reminder of the choice she made. For the first time in her life, she isn’t in pain.

Finally, she takes a deep breathing, exhaling sharply through the nose. No more facades, no more Laila, all she needs now is Handler. The one who understands how broken she is, and promises to fix what is broken.

Maybe that’s enough reason to fight.