The Foundry | Part One | Chapter Three
the next chapter of my forthcoming novel
The Foundry
by Daphne Garrido
Part One | Thrice Bled Heart
Part Two | Rebuilt; Refound; Reclaimed
Part Three | Dominion
Chapter Three
Everything felt different this time for Echo, stepping onto The Foundry’s arena floor. Its crowd was the same as always, rollicking boisterously, the people of Atreya a most passionate sort when in for a show. Those mammoth spinning rings and their formed armillary sphere around The Great Generator felt just as intimidating to have above. It was only herself that was different this time around.
It wouldn’t be her time to fly, nor any of her class’, only here for the pomp of it all. Yet, they’d have the best seats in the house, each of her peers taking rest in line upon the ceremonial dais built for this annual purpose alone, at that farthest end of the arena’s floor
Names were spared to the ears of this audience. Those curious to follow the development of this class of initiates would have limited means to do so. The right to one’s anonymity was a choice to be made by each soul called to search out the title of pilot within the structures of The Foundry.
Echo tried not to worry how her hair looked as she’d known their images were being displayed to the crowd, declining to glance up at herself in that moment as she’d felt her peers so eager to do; she always looked funny on camera.
The depth of emotion she’d felt in those moments on-screen were unlike any she previously experienced, except that once she’d been right here before. Focused attention of so many upon Echo would create unmistakably powerful waves of empathy to roll over her.
She wasn’t nervous. In fact, she hardly ever felt nervous anymore. Being brave was just fun to her now. There was nothing which made her embody a more holistic sense of freedom than to be in fearless pursuit of her heart’s desires, allowing herself to be seen after such time hiding in the shadows of self-suppression.
“This part fucking rules,” Echo half-shouted to be heard by Cameron sitting beside her, who’d conveyed trust in this estimation by that way she’d grinned wide, not taking her eyes from the display on the curved dome before them.
Echo found herself reaching out to give them a squeeze on the leg, something drawn right out of her from the sight of their smile. It surprised even her when she’d leaned in closer and spoke into their ear.
“You’re fucking gorgeous.”
Pleasure bloomed in Echo’s belly seeing Cameron beam at the landing of her words, as the simulated sounds of thunderous jet-fire exploded throughout the arena. There were thirty-eight active pilots in training and deployment at The Foundry, each bonded to their own beautiful machine of war.
While that title of pilot was bestowed upon only those who had taken to flying a genuine warship, moving out of simulated space, all but two of these thirty-eight had yet to achieve the honor of being known a graduate. It was only Silence and Epoch earning that distinction before the beautiful blue moon of Atreya, and this mass of its peoples, above The Great Generator in this fateful ceremony.
Each one of these heroes and their unique crafts fired from their hiding places amongst the ether, surrounding this arena’s starry vantage, the very moment all visual projections upon the dome had ceased, each ship revealing themselves most cunning by their occlusion in such close and secretive proximity.
Streaks of fire — appearing for those within the arena in a multitude of colors, with lingering effects borne to their many wakes — burned a pattern of interweaved geometry which would leave an impression upon the mind and heart of every individual who found themself lucky enough to witness it.
Watching these blazoned trails of intricately utilized fury, feeling the buzz of the people wash over her, catching dreadful glimpses of Chiron’s terrifying size and refusing to acknowledge the spiritual implications it bore into mind of her own insignificance, had been when Echo finally caught herself smiling too.
She’d not admit it, but compulsive urges had her counting the warships.
It had taken a few go-rounds to confirm it to herself, especially considering they were carving such a complicated and interwoven pattern, but she’d gotten the same count every time.
There were only thirty-seven. Someone was missing.
The lineup of initiates was composed of high chins, puffed chests, and proud looks. They’d left the arena, itself now deep into a recorded immersion with epic compositions of sound, highlighting Silence and Epoch’s final run on The Gauntlet. Booming reverberations from both its furious war-sounds and accompanying musical arrangements, along with the screaming echoes of a peoples reveling the triumph of their heroes, were felt by the feet, and heard by the ears of them all.
‘Oh god, dude.’ Echo said out of the side of her mouth towards Cameron with no time to elaborate.
A hissing decompression marked the moment, and Echo had chosen not to react, instead remaining grounded in that little composure she could muster, as her fellow initiates devolved into a near riot of awestruck fandom.
Every pilot who’d just shown out for the people of Atreya, each having crafted their own warship; a spirit-bonded companion of starborne flight — passing the needed trials of simulation, proving their worth, and allowing their mech’s construction to become reality — would forever walk with the earned-pride of knowing their place.
It was apparent in the way they strode past this crowd of those who’d wish for nothing more than to stand beside them.
Echo wasn’t looking, holding herself in reserved self-honor. She’d glanced over to Cameron and found relief they’d not fallen into such fawning childishness beside the rest of their class. Yet, in that moment, they’d shown a reaction to something seen past her, which told of some out-of-the ordinary happening.
That fear to look was gone, and Echo turned to see him then. Alan was right before her, stopped, staring towards her with his jaw hanging wide. His eyes were softer than she’d ever seen them before, and he looked really great, feeling so much better in spirit than before; cleaner somehow.
“Oh no,” Echo let out — realizing in a moment that she may be painting a target on her back — not wanting to be seen as having any advantages to her peers, wishing to find more communal comradery than her first time around.
She’d not a choice as Alan walked up to her, stepping away from his partner who appeared less than pleased. That one despised Echo for the way they knew he felt about her.
Alan came right up and gave her the biggest hug. It was touching, no matter the consequences which might come of it on either side.
“I’m glad you’re back.” He’d spoken just to her, before noticing Cameron.
There was a flash of hurt in his eyes, an empathetically felt ache in Echo’s chest, yet a kindest smile forming upon his lips. He’d stepped back then, allowing it to grow as he accepted his friend was back, and that it meant a lot to him.
“We’ll talk soon,” Alan said before returning to his perturbed chosen; Priscilla. Without a care towards that woman’s hurt pride, taking back his place in this glorious parade, he’d found a lightness to his step which was quite plain to see.
Cameron and Echo had the chance to get to know each other a bit before the ceremony. She was aware Echo was here once before, that there were attachments remaining in both her heart and mind.
“They’re a friend,” Echo affirmed, feeling the weight of her words convey a depth behind that truth, still knowing she meant it, and that she wouldn’t sacrifice her own best good for anyone again.
The rest of the pilots had passed so quickly, at least in retrospect to Echo, having felt insatiable joy from that reconciliation going better than she’d ever expected. Along with the newfound power she was finding in herself to face such complicated feelings without being pulled to make mistakes she’d immediately regret. Echo was proud of herself.
That was when she’d come, trailing behind the pack, not an ounce of the self-grandeur carried in her step as those other pilots — that last one — the odd one out; number thirty-seven.
Echo knew what was happening before it had. Time slowed as her heart began to do strange things. It wasn’t some empathy from them noticing her. She was feeling herself moments ahead, when she’d finally done what she had next, and looked at them.
Rory Tyrell was not a sight she’d been fully prepared to see. It hurt worse than she’d imagined. Those false walls of defiance towards a hope of reconciliation crumbled.
“That bitch.” Echo said loud enough they probably heard, and Cameron definitely had.
Something clearly happened to their other, but it didn’t seem to bother Rory one bit. They were smiling, and Echo just knew it; they had seen her. It was them on that balcony.
To witness Rory alone and walking in such strength. Facing that same challenge, now of doing it without another, which Echo had found unbearable, let alone with their signature nonchalance, felt awfully complicated inside this woman so newly returned to The Foundry.
They’d strode right past without sparing a glance, and there was no way they hadn’t known exactly where she’d been standing; Echo was the tallest person there.
When they’d gone, and Echo was feeling a bit calmer, she’d finally turned back to Cameron. They seemed a bit more concerned about this one.
“We’re not friends.” She’d been informed.
We doin’ it for the plot.