Lone Wolf 2

[reliarobot]

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Mechanized Chassis Pilot Handbook 392.3: Under certain circumstances, a mech can be used as improvised camping equipment.

Rain and curses both streamed quietly through the forest as a lone pilot fought with the camping kit.

"Pilot Walker, why do you not simply sleep in the cockpit? It is already warm and dry."

"That's not the point," she grunted, hauling a rope against a tree branch, which broke. "Stupid mother fucking- listen, Stormcrow, I've got this, just give me a-"

Suddenly, the rain over Abagail stopped. She looked up to see Stormcrow's massive hand shielding her from the rain. "Well. That helps." She eyed the mech, still holding the rope in her off hand.

"Pilot Walker, do you have a new plan in mind?"

---

"Pilot Walker, this is inefficient use of this unit's resources."

"Nonsense," she returned, patting the mech on the thumb, now dug slightly into the ground. "This is perfect."

Perfect apparently meant the rope weaving back and forth through the mech's fingers like a giant game of Cat's Cradle. Tarp set up and no longer fighting the rain, Abagail started dealing with the tent, which seemed much more agreeable.

"Pilot Walker, if there is an attack, this setup will delay this unit's ability to protect you."

"From what, bears? We're hundreds of kilometers from the nearest enemy base, and running dark besides. We'll be fine. Trust me."

"This unit... this unit... doesn't like it."

"Well, look at you, expressing an emotion!" Abagail smiled. "Here, let's get you settled down, it'll give you a lower profile."

She jumped into the mech's cockpit and smoothly guided it downwards until it was nearly prone, torso propped up slightly by the elbows so she could escape the interior. The mech's face was nearly at eye level with her own.

"There you go, see?" She lit a lamp and began to sit down to make a small campfire beneath the tarp. "Nice and cosy. And now we get to be under the tarp together!" A raindrop traced down Stormcrow's head. "Mostly."

Stormcrow adjusted its front spotlight to a low amber light, illuminating the small camp with a warm glow.

"Ahhh," Abagail sighed. "Now you're getting it!" She broke open a ration pack, pulled out a protein puck, and speared it with a stick to hold over the fire. "It's a shame you don't have tastebuds. Cooked over an open flame is the best way to eat these things."

"Pilot Walker would share rations with this unit?"

"Yeah, bud, absolutely. We're friends, right?" She beamed.

My recharge cycle abruptly ended, and an alert went off in my HUD about the neurolink. I dismissed it, along with the six-years-gone image of Abagail, cross-referenced with the sound of rain and the smell of a campfire.