No Sol Saga : Scars of Autumn

wisp

Jizel jolted awake, her heart racing as she realized the time. She leapt out of bed, barely registering the rumpled sheets as she scrambled to her feet. The cramped quarters felt even smaller in her panic, the walls adorned with posters of distant worlds and an old sports championship. Sunlight filtered through the small window, illuminating the remnants of her late-night snacks scattered on her desk-a reminder of the long hours spent preparing for this mission.

With barely a moment to breathe, she tugged on her tight black bodysuit, the fabric clinging to her athletic frame. She pulled on her hyperplastic body armor, securing the straps in a rush, only to find they weren't quite right. The armor pinched her shoulders uncomfortably, but there was no time for adjustments. She grabbed her protein bar, stuffing it into her mouth as she dashed out of her tiny room.

"Hey, Jizel!" Heath, the giant werewolf-like man, called from the common area, his deep voice booming with warmth. He was working on one of the ship's engines, his hands covered in grease. "Late again, huh?"

"Shut up!" she mumbled through a mouthful of protein bar, grinning as she rushed past.

"Don't choke!" he laughed, shaking his head.

In the next room, she spotted Gilgahand, the ship's gunsmith, carefully assembling a weapon with deft hands. His workshop was a chaos of parts and tools, but his concentration was unwavering. "You're going to get yourself killed one day if you keep this up," he teased, glancing up with a smirk.

"Yeah, yeah!" she shot back, already moving on, her short brown hair tousled from sleep and the day's frantic start.

As she navigated through the narrow corridors, she passed Tika and Eli, the welders, their heads bent over a project as they exchanged jokes. The smell of breakfast wafted from the small kitchen area, but she didn't have time to eat. Instead, she called out a quick "Morning!" as she barreled past, her heart pounding in her chest.

The crew's living space was a jumble of dorm-style rooms, each with just enough room for cooking, a glass-doored refrigerator stocked with supplies, and a tiny bathroom. Despite the cramped conditions, laughter and camaraderie filled the air, a reminder of their bond.

Finally, she reached the mech bay, her heart racing from the rush. Simon, the operations manager, looked up from his tablet, his brow arched playfully. He was a large man with tan skin and an easy smile, reminiscent of someone from Greece. "You're late, Jizel," he chided, a teasing glint in his eyes.

"Yeah, well, you know how it is!" she replied, breathless.

He chuckled and waved her off. "Don't worry, I managed to finish up some of the checks. Captain won't give you too much trouble this time." He started unplugging the last of the power cables and fluid transfers, moving with practiced efficiency.

"Thanks for covering for me," she said, a wave of gratitude washing over her. He always had her back, like a big brother.

"Just doing my job," he replied, then threw an arm around her shoulder, guiding her toward the mech. "Now, let's get you suited up and ready to go."

Jizel's spirits lifted as she smiled up at him. The mech, her candy-red giant, loomed ahead, waiting for her like a faithful companion. With Simon by her side, she felt ready for whatever awaited her on the mission ahead.

Jizel circled the mech, her boots thudding softly against the metal floor as she eyed the sleek, angular carapace. The candy-red exterior gleamed under the overhead lights, its polished surface still bearing the scars of past battles. She paused, inspecting the newly installed weapons and the replacement parts, her fingers brushing over the cooled surface.