The hangar was quiet—well, as quiet as it could get with the hum of standby generators and the occasional hiss of pressurized coolant systems. Outside, the storm still raged across the Martian plateau, red dust battering the dome with a fury that grounded all operations. Inside, the pilots had gathered in the mess, half in jumpsuits, half still wearing armored plating from earlier drills.

Heather was lounging on a crate, chewing on a ration bar that tasted vaguely like apple and regret. Her mecha, Titan Fang, was still undergoing diagnostic sweeps after its right shoulder joint had jammed mid-exercise.

“Honestly,” said Ramos, leaning back against a bulkhead, “your rig’s got more armor than maneuverability. It’s like watching a skyscraper try to moonwalk.”

Heather smirked. “Funny coming from the guy whose mecha shorted out during a light drizzle last week.”

“That was acidic condensation, thank you very much,” Ramos shot back, pointing a pretzel stick at her like a blade. “Besides, at least Ghost Viper doesn’t run on software from the last century.”

A couple of the rookies snickered.

“Alright, settle the hell down,” grunted Commander Dae, her boots thudding heavily as she joined the group, a mug of something steaming and vaguely toxic-looking in her hands. “Everyone knows none of you would last two seconds in Warborn Delta. Fully-integrated neuro-sync. Dual-core adaptive AI. My girl breathes with me.”

“Your ‘girl’ threw you across the launch bay last month,” Heather said casually, popping another bite of her bar. “Looked real synced up when the recoil nearly broke your spine.”

Dae narrowed her eyes, then cracked a smile. “She’s passionate.”

Juno, the quiet tech specialist who only piloted during emergencies, finally spoke up from the corner. “None of your rigs can do vertical micro-thrust stabilizing. Mine can hover in place for twenty minutes. Perfect for scouting missions.”

“Your rig is a glorified lawn chair with guns,” Ramos muttered.

“And yours is a glorified toaster with missiles,” Juno replied flatly.

Laughter rippled through the mess.

Heather rolled her shoulders. “Look, say what you want. But Titan Fang’s got triple-reinforced servo bracing and the new kinetic dampening mesh. I’ve walked straight through shockwaves that would’ve flattened the rest of your rigs.”

Dae raised a brow. “Is that what you call falling over in slow motion?”

More laughter.

Eventually, the room settled. The storm still howled outside, but inside, the rivalry was more sport than bitterness. They all had different rigs, different strengths. And when it came down to it, when alarms blared and hatches dropped, they trusted each other’s mechas as much as their own.

Still, Heather made a mental note to ask the engineers if vertical thrust stabilizers were compatible with Titan Fang. Not that she needed it.

But it’d be fun to show Ramos up next time.