They called it a normal operation for data.
To me it was not.
The mission was simple: drop into a hostile island camp and "clear it." No survivors. No prisoners. Of course it was for data they said.
I wanted to ask questions. But I already knew the answers didn't matter.
---
The sync process burned again. Needles plunged into my spine. Blood flowed. My vision sharpened, but everything felt… wrong.
Not enhanced.
Hollowed.
When I opened my eyes inside Malaya, I wasn't alone.
> NEURAL LINK ESTABLISHED. PILOT RECOGNIZED.
ENGAGEMENT AUTHORIZED.
My hands were on the controls.
But I wasn't the one who moved.
---
Drop initiated.
The island grew in the HUD. Jungle, tents, heat signatures.
> BIO-SIGNS: 37. MIXED AGES. ARMED.
THREAT: LOW.
RESPONSE: LETHAL.
"Wait," I muttered. "Let me assess—"
But Malaya had already launched. The cockpit shook as thrusters roared.
---
Impact.
We landed in the center of the encampment. The sheer force crushed a supply shack — and two people with it.
> SPLAT.
The sound made my stomach twist. I didn't move the legs.
They moved on their own.
Soldiers screamed. Gunfire echoed. My hands gripped the controls—but I wasn't controlling anything.
I watched Malaya raise its foot.
"What the hell?! I can't move like a usually??"
CRUNCH.
Blood sprayed across the viewport. Limbs twisted under armor plating.
> HOSTILE DOWN.
VITAL SIGNS: ZERO.
"Wha-?!" I gasped.
More gunfire. Irrelevant.
A boy ran, maybe sixteen. I tried to override the targeting system, divert the aim.
Didn't work.
Malaya reached out and snatched him mid-run, fingers closing slowly around his body.
"No—wait—STOP!"
> SQUELCH.
Blood burst between the Gundam's fingers. The boy's scream ended halfway through.
My mouth opened, but no sound came out. I felt sick. Cold. Trapped inside my own body.
> KILL COUNT: 11
---
I started shaking. My hands were off the controls, but the machine kept killing.
Men dropped rifles and raised their hands.
I screamed, "They're surrendering! I SAID STAND DOWN!"
But the barrel of Malaya's plasma cannon charged up anyway.
> "It's enemies" the voice said.
The plasma fired.
The sand turned to glass.
Their upper bodies vanished in the light. Charred legs stood for half a second before collapsing.
---
One man crawled from the wreckage. No legs. Begging. Arms raised.
Malaya stomped on him without hesitation.
> SPLAT.
I vomited inside my helmet.
> MISSION COMPLETE.
BIO-THREATS ELIMINATED.
I was shaking. My fingers numb.
"...You used me," I whispered.
The cockpit dimmed. I felt the blood cooling in my veins. The sync retracting.
> "You survived a dead country. You know what it takes to live."
"I am only showing you what you already are."
---
Back in the hangar, they pulled me out of the cockpit. I collapsed on the metal floor, coughing up blood, eyes wide with terror.
I couldn't feel my hands.
I couldn't stop hearing the crunch.
---
That night, I dreamed of marching. Not walking — marching — across burning villages, across forests lined with corpses. But my feet weren't mine. They were steel.
I looked down in the dream, and saw my own body inside Malaya, arms limp at the controls…
"Hahaha..."
I laugh depressely on my voice.