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We were too heavy. The thought cycles in my mind with the replay of our final moments of freedom. For years, I have picked it apart, second by second, trying to find a reason why things went wrong and a way to free my Brothers from this deserted tomb.

The mud swallowed us when we landed. I tried to reach my Brothers. The sticky clay was stronger than us. Forty-three of them. One of me. I protected none.

I am Armor. It is my only purpose.

I have failed them.

Every time another Brother falls silent, or his area network ping stops, another part of me cracks.

They fought to make their way to me as we sank. My opened wings caught the surface and kept my arms free. But we landed too spread out on uninhabited Ellipsis.

Years of storms have slowly buried me. And years without food or regular rains have rendered me to my lowest power levels. I have little left. I use it to send a distress signal for as long as I can.

My Brothers closed off their oxygen and sealed themselves in crusty tombs as the sun baked us. They switched to hibernation while we hoped for a rescue. But so many have gone silent over our network that I fear many are permanently lost.

We all knew we were alone in battle out here. The BlazeStar was going down. No one else was left in orbit to fight.

A couple of my Brothers managed to get their hands to the sunlight so they could charge like me. But only I have enough of me exposed that I can listen and patrol.

Mace and Firebolt still reply on coms.

MaceArmor: Report.

ArmorLocal: I have made contact with our CyberPilot, Clover. She says her human friends named her.

FireboltLocal: Friends?

ArmorLocal: She says they have found General Krader’s daughter and Commander Savage.

They have freed Titans and named their pilots Poppy and Clover.

They have found and repaired the ship with help from humans and other Brothers.

They are sending a search party for us. They are leaving in just a few days.

MaceLocal: Days?

My two brothers have only the energy for one-word communication. I fear they are close to their ends. I do not want to be alone. I cannot be the only one who is rescued, or my given name will carry only shame.

ArmorLocal: Three motherships orbit Ellipsis now.

A fourth arrives soon. They have hindered the capabilities of Marst and Vessna.

They do not think they will escape a fourth.

It is heavily armed. Amp, Clover’s new copilot, has relayed they want to preserve numbers and that many Brothers have Bonds with human survivors.

FireboltLocal: Insufficient.

I’m not sure what he’s referring to. Maybe Firebolt feels he could not serve a human. None of us could in our current condition, so I keep going.

ArmorLocal: Amp says many Titans have found mates among the human females. Titan fell to the Solcrue after the CyberGuards were built. No females were constructed for us.

MaceLocal: Human?

FireboltLocal: How?

They have the same question as me.

ArmorLocal: I do not know. We were once human. Perhaps it is something that we only understand if we are freed from our punishment protocols and given independence.

The rumble of a Skysprinter’s engines makes me scan the area. My scanners show a fighter arcing across the desert, heading for distant mountains.

CloverArmor: Long-range scanner shows forty-four Titans in the desert floor. Please confirm.

I click back twice.

CloverArmor: Rescue mission initiated. Skysprinters are aware of your existence. Patrols have increased. Success probability 15%.

ArmorClover: That’s better than we’ve had in years. Even if the team cannot reach us, your communication has made our dishonorable end acceptable.

CloverArmor: You went down fighting. If we cannot retrieve you before we take the BlazeStar to meet up with the Rogues, I will send a team back for you. Please relay to those not yet in hibernation.

ArmorClover: The probability of you escaping is not 100%.

CloverArmor: Correct. But my message to the Rogues has been sent by Amp. They will retrieve you and others.

ArmorClover: That probability is not 100%.

CloverArmor: You don’t know Rogues. Neither do I, but Rogue CyberTitan Evo has assured me they only fail when they are betrayed. So they isolate themselves to ensure effectiveness. Only CyberGuards are indestructible and succeed with missions no matter the situation.

ArmorClover: We have missed many years of upgrades to Brothers.

CloverArmor: We will catch you up when you are free. Team approaching your location.

I hear voices of others, Titan and human, but they’re muffled by the dirt in my ears.

Only one eye remains above the surface, so I squint, blink to clear the dust, and scour the brown crust between a loose strand of dry grass and an iridescent green beetle toward a flashing light paired with the pops of distant gunfire.

I cannot focus much through the mirage that ripples everything around me.

The team moves closer, but so do the sounds of Skysprinters racing overhead.

I send out a ping, a beacon, in case they need one.

MenaceArmor: I am sorry, Brother. We are pinned down.

My hope crashes like the nearby ship that sends a faint shudder through the desert. Another Skysprinter quickly flies in to replace the last.

FractureArmor: We will return when the threat of Solcrue fighters is resolved.

ArmorFracture: Understood.

It pains me to watch our hope of a chance at freedom and returning to service flee under Solcrue fire, but I can’t change what is beyond my control, which is basically everything right now.

MaceArmor: Rescue?

I rework my response because I do not want to break his hope or Firebolt’s.

ArmorLocal: Pending. Skysprinters overhead.

MaceLocal: Damn.

But as the firefight moves away from us, something else comes closer. I see the shadow in the sand even though I cannot see what makes it. Something brushes the back of my head. Then again. It is gentle and cautious.

I catch a scent in the breeze. Sweat. Musk. Leather. Soap?

Human.

The shadow moves closer to me and lower to the ground. It crawls over the end of my half-buried left wing.

A small arm appears before my eye. On it is the tattoo of a mining camp from Earth Minor. It pulls into view the face of a female plastered with sweaty strands of ash-brown hair and blue eyes.

“Bet they were looking for you,” she whispers as she digs into the dirt, freeing it from the rest of my face.

I look to where she works, and she jolts in shock. “You’re alive?”

Meeting her gaze, I blink. Yes. It’s the only thing I can do until she frees my mouth.

She lurches forward, digging faster, frantically. The woman swipes the dirt from my other eye, and I can finally look at her with complete focus.

I have never seen such a beautiful sight in all my years of operation.

A human is rescuing me, like the Creators once did.

But this female stirs something deeper, a desire I did not know I could have for a human.

Watching her curves sway and shift as she claws free a clump of dry dirt from my neck gives me daring thoughts of what I want to do to her if I break free.

But our meeting is cut short by a string of green bullets punching a line toward us from a Skysprinter.

I cannot let her die. It is my duty as much as I feel it in my core. She may be our only chance if Menace’s team doesn’t make it back.

I redirect all of my power to the wing most exposed. It is stiff and slow to respond, but I grit my teeth and pry it up from the desert floor with a loud crack.

She leans back and looks up at it in horror, like I’m going to hurt her. But I want the opposite. There’s no time to try to communicate. My arms are still stuck. My wing and my eyes are all I have. So I shield her with the last of my energy and hope she doesn’t give up on us.