First Fight - An Amatiste Story

Ama and Lana were goofing off, knowing they should be practicing target shooting, but they were easily distracted. The unusually warm March sun wasn't helping. They weren't exactly neglecting their duties; everything was prepared, ammo loaded, and gun mounts oiled. They were wrestling, their version of "practice," but it was no secret to anyone around that this was far more intimate.
Archon Talia approached them briskly. "Cadets, up now. Scouts spotted some Devil Riders heading our way."
They both snapped to attention. "Yes, Archon!" they chorused.
Amatiste inquired, "Where will we be riding, Archon?"
Talia smiled at her. "You two will be in the second circle. It's a chance to gain experience without too much risk. Listen to your drivers, trust your instincts, and honor your ancestors." Talia wasn't as connected to the tribe's beliefs, but she understood their significance to these girls.
Lana pulled Amatiste close, planting a firm kiss on her lips. "You'll shine out there, babe. Just remember, the ancestors are riding with you, and my Panther always rides with your Otter!" It was one of Lana's favorite sayings, she was Panther totem, a protector, a true warrior. Amatiste was Otter totem, playful, joyful, not exactly a warrior.
They sprinted to their vehicles, heavy-duty armored Zonda Metros, the swift axes of the Angels.
Amatiste hopped into the passenger seat and began strapping herself in. She glanced at her driver, Carlos, a seasoned combat driver. "Hoy, Carlos."
"Hoy, Ama. Alright, listen up. I'll do my best to keep us safe, and you do your best to shoot anything that moves. How are you holding up?"
"Lana's Panther rides with me. Trying not to let fear get the best of me."
Carlos smiled at her, he remembered being a cadet, excited for his first battle, and terrified. Switching to Shalish, he said, "The Ancestors will ride with us today, as they always do. Stay calm, trust your training. You're a warrior; Talina would have chosen you if you weren't. Check the gun, make sure it's primed, because we're off!" With that, Carlos revved the powerful vehicle.
Ama knew Carlos was deeply integrated with the vehicle's systems. She ensured the Militech rifle was securely mounted and primed, then glanced at the battle computer, spotting the blips indicating approaching Devil Riders. "Come on, Mads, stay focused," she reminded herself as she leaned into the rifle.
Through her comset, Carlos alerted her to a fast-approaching motorcycle from the left, maneuvering the car for her to take aim.
"Alright," she thought, steadying her aim. "Line him up. Done. Phew, just an Ork, not a Troll," she muttered, offering a quick word to the spirits before squeezing the trigger. "Drek! Missed!"
The Ork barreled towards them, shotgun aimed directly at Amatiste, firing with alarming accuracy. If their car wasn't heavily armored, her head, or what was left of it, would be in Carlos's lap by now. How was he so Ghost-damned accurate?
With a sudden turn, Carlos rammed the Ork with the bumper, sending him flying off the bike and under their wheels. "Next time, when they're that close, hit auto fire," Carlos instructed firmly.
Ama felt a surge of panic. "I have no training—"
"Doesn't matter, just do it. Especially for the bikes; the threat of the shot alone could throw them off."
Nodding, Ama muttered the ritual response, "I listen." Glancing back at the battle map, she noted an alarming increase in enemy blips. "By the ancestors, I thought this was a small party!"
"Yeah, reinforcements are on their way. Another one coming, get 'em!"
She adjusted her aim slightly and fired. The slug found its mark, sending the Ork tumbling off the bike just as Carlos expertly maneuvered to knock another rider off. Ama wished she could be on the general comms to check on Lana.
The main battle dragged on, feeling like an eternity, but eventually, Carlos announced, "It's winding down. I'll take you to where Brad and Lana are going to be."
As they reached the ridge, Ama scanned the area, spotting a bunch of Metros and bikes, but not Lana's Metro. Then, she saw it cresting a ridge half a click away, and time seemed to slow to a crawl.
They witnessed a sudden flash of light behind Lana's Metro, followed by an explosion that propelled the Metro into a violent summersault, the back end flipping over the front before rolling down the ridge. All Amatiste's mind could register was the mantra: it hit the armor, she's fine.
Carlos, the lone driver still mounted, steered towards the wreckage. "Stay alert, Amatiste. I understand where your thoughts are. Stay alert."
A swarm of drones buzzed past them, brand new Death Heads, just acquired from the Aldecaldos.
As Carlos halted at the wreck, Ama jumped out, joined by others rushing over. Carlos restrained her. It was plain to see that the fuel tanks had ruptured, forming a massive pool and drenching the vehicle. "It's going to catch fire. There's nothing we can do."
Ama glanced at the gathering crowd, momentarily grappling with Carlos before he let her go. She sprinted to an Angel holding a Nomad Long Rifle, who anticipated her intention and handed it over. "Go on, Cub. Give her the mercy a warrior deserves." With steady hands, the Angel assisted Amatiste in aiming the heavy rifle at Lana's chest. "Now."
Amatiste squeezed the trigger as Lana mouthed "I love you." The shot shattered the window and pierced Lana's chest, ending her life just as flames engulfed the Metro. Amatiste collapsed to her knees, tears streaming down her face. Drawing a knife, she cut her hand and retrieved her spirit bag, drenching it with her blood. "I will never fear again. I will cherish you until my last breath. May you run with Panther and the ancestors. One day, I will join you. I swear this on my blood." An Angel helped her to her feet, and she realized it was the Archon.
"You need to return to camp. I've already contacted the Archangel. Talina will be waiting. We'll ensure Lana finds peace with her ancestors."
Carlos lifted Amatiste gently and settled her into the passenger seat, fastening her seatbelt. "Let it out, Cub. There's no judgment among the Angels. I'll take you to Talina."
Upon arrival at the camp, Talina approached. Unlike the others, she didn't offer physical comfort. Leaning down, she spoke softly but firmly. "Amatiste. Come. Now. You can walk. I know you grieve; I know what you had to do. But you are a member of the Desolation Angels. Be proud, stand tall."
Amatiste rose, still clutching her spirit bag, tears flowing freely. She scanned the faces around her—some filled with anger and hatred, others with concern. Lana's parents were nowhere to be seen. She didn't know if she could face them. Walking alongside Talina, she tied her bag around her neck. They all understood the significance of a blood-soaked bag; she had sworn a blood oath. Entering the Angels' main tent, Talina signaled for it to be closed and guards posted.
"Now. Let it out. Tell us what happened." Talina guided her to a chair, her hands resting gently on Amatiste's shoulders.
Amatiste held nothing back, recounting the entire ordeal, her voice breaking with each retelling. Tears flowed freely, a testament to the depth of her grief and love for Lana. She didn't notice Lana's mother, Evelyn Wolff, among the gathered Angels. Was she deployed? Then she heard her voice.
Evelyn approached, Talina stepping aside. "Amatiste. Look at me." Her command was undeniable, and Amatiste raised her gaze. Evelyn cupped her head, planting a kiss on her forehead. "Thank you for keeping her from that fate and granting her a warrior's death. No one could have foreseen that attack; they were believed to have left. But their bones and blood, along with their cohorts, now feed the ground. My unit hunted them down.
You swore a blood oath to my daughter, your beloved. Though I may not be Shalish, I understand its significance. My husband once spoke of your culture, and I've learned much more since. You are family, forever, no matter what. Now, rise, Little Warrior. The time for mourning will come. Now is the time to celebrate victory!"
As the celebration carried on, with Angels coming together to rejoice while others returned to their duties, Amatiste found no solace in the festivities. This victory felt hollow, tainted by the loss of Lana. She repeated her resolve: fear was no longer an option for her. She would never again show mercy to a Devil Rider. Mercy is for the weak.
As the night progressed and the celebration continued, Amatiste quietly slipped away to the tent she once shared with Lana. Gathering Lana's belongings, she kept some of her personal effects, including her Panther amulet. "Your Panther will forever ride with My Otter. I'll never forget you; I only hope I can forgive myself," she murmured, tears streaming down her face. Amatiste certainly didn't feel like an otter tonight, her joy was gone.
With Lana's belongings in hand, Amatiste made her way to the burial tent. Some items would be redistributed among the Angels, while others would be burned as part of Lana's ceremony. Tomorrow, she resolved, she would emerge stronger—a better warrior, a better Angel. But for now, she needed time alone to grieve. With one of Lana's shirts clutched to her chest, she allowed herself to finally completely break down and sob herself to sleep.