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She loved this old beast.
Her muscles flared and tensed, each slight movement of a finger on the controls tracing nervous signals to her spine. The heavy jostling of the cockpit marked another step forward, her legs instinctively bracing to compensate for the movement. Not that it was needed. Her eight-point harness was more than enough to hold her in place against the cushioned seat below.
The screens around her were filled with the arid terrain of her home, cleared landscape and umber grass as far as she cared to look. The sky was clear, clouds of grey and white dotting the azure expanse above. She could just make out a large flock of birds flying off towards the south, their wings wide specks of black. The sound of other mechs was all around her, smaller machines marching in her wake, their steps quick to keep up with her long strides.
A glance to her right showed the reactor status settled into the yellow, right where it needed to be. A flex of her arms sent the sound of whirring hydraulics into her ear. She could smell the petrol tanks heating up, ready to send their hellfire shooting out at her command. An eager rush of chemicals to her brain left her giggling in her seat. Beads of sweat dripped from her body onto the water-proofed console, sliding down to the sheet metal flooring like condensation on a window.
She loved this old beast, as she loved the one who had given it to her, all those years ago.
A silent prayer of thanks slipped past her muzzle, gratitude for the guidance that She provided.
She blinked-
-Her arid world was on fire.
The air inside the cockpit was sweltering. Errors and alarms blared from every possible screen. Blood and tears mingled with pooling perspiration all around her. She gasped and choked at the acrid fumes that wafted from singed cabling. Sparks shot out from a blown breaker to her left. The old beast was on its knees, the controls to her right leg non-responsive.
Enemies were everywhere, each screen swarming with foreign machines. There were too many to count, the shape of one bleeding into the next. She swung wildly at them, crude fists large enough to easily crush one into scrap. They quickly danced away just out of her reach, sharp things in their hands poking and prodding into the beast's exposed side.
She screamed as a barrage of shots slammed into her torso, new alerts blaring into life as redundant systems kicked in. Panic coursed through her scorching body. A gout of flame burst from her arm, spraying coagulated sludge into the undulating mass. One machine took the brunt of the blast before melting down into a nasty pile of slag.
A silver and black shape ran past her vision, mace and shield held up-
-She burst upwards in her bed.
Her breathing was rapid and pained, her chest convulsing with strained movements. The white room spun around her, eyes filling with bright, painful chaos. Weakened arms shot out to steady herself. She felt heavy and light all at once, the sound of rushing liquid filling her ears, the scent of disinfectant engulfing her nostrils. A familiar sensation of dizzying nausea settled into her head. It reminded her of-
Rehab.
She was back in rehab.
A bolt of terror ran up her spine.
They would be here soon. the orderlies. They always visited as soon as she woke up. Questions and probes and drugs and pain, especially on her bad days. She couldn’t lie and say that she was fine, the cameras would have caught everything. She'd get a beating today for sure. They didn't like it when her dreams were so vivid. She was supposed to be forgetting it all, letting it go, accepting her new life, adjusting-
The door swung open.
She braced against the headboard, arms wrapped around her legs, ready for a fresh round of agony.
From out of the hall strode a lone figure, dressed in midnight-black, a curious smile sitting beneath short blue hair.
It wasn't an orderly, or even a doctor.
It was Her.
All at once the room shifted. Her eyes went wide as saucers.
Her.
How was it possible? Where had She been? How could She be here? Had She finally come to take her home?
Wasn't She...
...it didn't matter, She was here now. A rush of joy stretched through her limbs. The nightmare was over, the pain was in the past, everything would be put right, it would all be okay. Tears flowed down her cheeks, the voice in her throat shaky and weak.
"...S-s-s-s-Sir?"
The figure slowly walked forward, moving around the bed towards her. Relief flooded her senses, her heart pumping warmth and a familiar admiration through her mind. She looked upwards into Her face, icy eyes staring back. She was so large, so imposing. A fitting stature for one such as Her.
A large, gloved hand reached forward to gently cup her cheek.
"Hello hound."
The moment of bliss ended as quickly as it began.
Something was wrong.
The voice was off, the hand too large, the fingers too wide.
This was all a lie. It wasn't Her.
It was-
All at once the peaceful feeling collapsed. The panic rose again to smother her joy. She was screaming in an instant, thrashing and flailing at whatever creature stood in front of her. Fists and kicks were thrown haphazardly in a vain attempt to ward off the inevitable. It felt like punching a wall made of muscle. She could already feel the bruises forming on her knuckles.
The large hand shot down from her cheek to grasp one of her wrists, the other one already held firm in a separate iron grip. The frozen gaze lingered on her, unblinking, unrelenting. She slammed her eyes shut. She didn't want to see this. She cried and sobbed and begged and drooled and hated every second.
It was just another torment, a new way to hurt her. This was her life, and she despised it. She hated this place so much. She just wanted to feel safe, she just wanted things to make sense, she just wanted to be a good-
"Kordi, wake up."
Her eyes snapped open.
The bedroom around her was dark, light from a nearby streetlamp poking in through a high window on the wall. Sweat dripped down her body, soaking into the enormous blanket on top of her. A familiar pair of hands held her wrists. She glanced up to see a braid of black and grey hair framing a tanned, square jaw. A comforting set of blue eyes stared back with a look of loving pity.
Her voice was little more than a whimper. "D...D-D-Dex?"
A kind smile filled her vision. "It's me, Kordi. You're okay, you're safe."
The gentle words hit her ears, laced with affection. She gave a sigh of contentment before her eyes took in the deep scratches and bruise marks along the woman’s arms and chest. A wave of guilt crashed into her, settling like a cloud in her mind. The shaking was instant, the tears streaming freely. "B-But I...I was...oh gods...I'm ssssorry, I hurt you...I'm sssssorry please....please d-don't be m-maaad! I'm s-s-sorryyyy..."
The grip on her wrists released, a moment of cold before a pair of muscled arms wrapped around her, pulling her close. The woman's heart beat slowly against her ear. "Easy Kordi. I am not hurt. You did nothing wrong." She felt a hand shift upwards to hold the back of her head. "It was just a dream."
A dream. Of course. It made perfect sense.
What else could it have been?
She closed her eyes, taking in the smells of leather and coffee, citrus and sweat. Before long the nauseous fog of shame disappeared, as if it had never even been there. She nuzzled into the woman's chest, a relieved groan bursting from her lips. The pounding of her heart ceased, her breathing slowed. A blanket of safety settled over her mind.
The thick leather collar around her neck was a gentle embrace, the chain hanging down her back a comforting weight.
"Thank you, Dexia...Thank you, Sir..."
The danger had passed, she was safe.
"Good girl."
It had just been a dream, nothing more.
Just a dream.