AN-

As promised, I proudly present part two of this chapter. I can't title it correctly in FanFiction because it doesn't like quote marks in the title, apparently. But I'm sure some of you recognize it from an old movie called Cool Hand Luke. My old boss loaned me the DVD after I had just gone through a real bad breakup and for some reason, it really helped me feel better. I'll be honest: I kind of model Cal's personality a bit after Paul Newman's character in this movie. My favorite scene is where I got this quote. It helped me realize that even if you don't come from a rich family; even if you feel like the world is working against you; even if you feel like you have no talent, you can still succeed if you play your cards right. Look it up on Youtube, if you've never seen this movie. This one scene alone holds a lot of impact with my personal beliefs.

I've worked out an outline for the next chapter and I plan on breaking ground on it next week. For now, just remember that "nothing" can be a real cool hand. ;)

-(10/14/16)

"Sir! We have incoming!"

"What?"

"Incoming! A single unit is approaching us from orbit at an unbelievable speed!"

"Nothing can re-enter at that velocity. It's probably just some de-orbited junk."

As if to prove him wrong, the squad leader's MFD picked up an unknown IFF signal and displayed a digitally-zoomed video feed of the unit on the corner of the screen. Within a few seconds, the blocky image resolved itself into a clearer picture, identifying the incoming unit.

"It's the Nephilim!" one of the pilots exclaimed with a noticeable panic in his voice. The image of the bright red Queadluun showed the distinctive glow of the pin-point barrier at the craft's leading edges.

The squad leader gritted his teeth. "Damn it. I thought we got her out of the picture," he mumbled to himself. His subordinates continued to panic over the radio…

"What now?"

"Aw, shit!"

"Oh, thank God," Cal sighed to himself with exasperation. He then realized that, if he survived, he would never get to live this down. No doubt, Klan would continue to hassle him about having to save his ass again. He couldn't quite remember the score at that moment, but he was pretty sure that he was trailing her on the number of times they've rescued each other from certain doom.

The Queadluun recklessly charged the formation of 171EXs, passing from left to right directly in front of all three pursuing units. At that velocity, her craft was shedding a powerful shockwave, which violently slammed into the attacking fighters. Not only were the pilots physically rocked by the jolt their machines received, but alarms began blaring in their cockpits. The shock was more than enough to disrupt the airflow going into the engine intakes on each Valk.

"What the hell?!"

"She's crazy!"

"I've got an engine out!"

"Flame out on engine 1! Initiating restart!"

At about the same time, Cal felt the gentle rumble of a softer shockwave through his seat as his craft's relative velocity to the shockwave was much, much lower. A bit surprised, he jerked around in his seat to see Klan's red Queadluun speeding away out of the corner of his eye. In his mirrors, the formation of three was struggling to keep up and maintain some semblance of coordination despite their mechanical issues. All he could do was snicker and shake his head.

"Cal!"

Right on time, Klan's familiar voice rang into Cal's ears via the radio. "What's your situation?"

"Oh, you know… just doing my thing…"

"This is no time to joke around! Sitrep, now!"

Cal noticed the obvious commanding tone of her voice, but he could also detect a hint of desperation and fear… a fear for his life. He suddenly remembered the sense of relief in her voice when she saved him during the huge battle in the Kihnes Asteroid Belt several weeks before. He could only imagine the emotional stress she goes through when she feels like she's about to lose him.

"Sorry," Cal sheepishly replied. He had just realized that he was highly valued by someone else; he was no longer solely responsible for his own well-being. "Okay," he said, snapping out of his overly casual attitude, "They caught me out here during a testing exercise; I'm completely unarmed. One of the two remaining RVFs is the leader… probably the one that will take point or rear slot in their formation."

"'Remaining'? How many have you had to deal with?"

"Eight total," he proudly bragged, "Scratched three Valks and two Ghosts."

A moment of silence fell over the cockpit.

"Bullshit."

"No, I'm not kidding," he laughed, "I have all kinds of recording devices on-board for the test to prove it."

"How did—N... Nevermind. You'd better survive, then, so you can prove it," Klan replied matter-of-factly. This was her way of begging him to not die.

Cal remembered that he was still in danger as he looked in his mirrors to see the squadron of 3 taking position behind him once more.

"Are you two back up and running?" the squad leader growled.

"100%! Both engines are back online," came the reply as the two units finally caught up to their leader.

"Good! Now, go hold her off," he barked.

"Are you kidding me? We've got no chance against that demon!"

"Just hold her off! Complete the mission, or we don't get to return home!"

With some hesitation, the two trailing Valks peeled away from the formation to intercept the now distant Queadluun, leaving only the leader to complete the objective. Klan was still decelerating into their combat velocity regime, taking a very wide turn before coming back around some few kilometers away.

"Head's up!" Cal yelled into his radio, "You've got two coming your way!" With renewed vigor, he regripped his controls before tearing the flightstick sharply to the right.

His Valk was immediately cut off by gunpod fire.

"Oh, no you don't," the squad leader's voice squawked over the radio, "You're dealing with me, one on one."

Cal could see that his opponent was on his six, directly behind. He clicked his tongue and reacted by transforming to battroid form, taking a few swipes at his attacker with the mecha's combat knife. The enemy unit easily dodged the desperate attack and pointed its gunpod in his direction. But the squad leader did not realize that close-quarters was exactly where Cal wanted him to be.

The RVF-171EX's gunpod fired, but Cal dodged it by going low and swung his mecha's left arm directly at the rifle. The impact knocked the gunpod out of the enemy unit's hand. At the same time, Cal used his craft's right arm to thrust the combat knife towards the area of the enemy's cockpit.

His opponent was quick enough to deflect the knife attack with the other arm, but he now found himself disarmed of his precious GU-14B. With Cal's battroid now menacingly positioned directly in front of the squad leader's, the enemy pilot immediately opened fire with the laser cannons on the Valk's head. The first couple of shots glanced off of the RVF-25's metallic surface, but the next few managed to penetrate the metallic exterior of the Messiah's chest area. Cal's battroid reeled back to prevent any more damage, while smoke and debris floated away from the affected area.

Now that his opponent had been disarmed, Cal continued on with Phase 2 of his attack plan. The RVF-25 transformed to fighter mode and blasted off in the direction of the now-freefalling gunpod. His opponent chased him in an attempt to stop him from getting there first, but the engines on Cal's mecha were too powerful to have any hope of catching up. The grey and white RVF quickly snatched the tumbling gunpod out of the air and turned to open fire on his opponent.

The attacking pilot, realizing the futility of his pursuit, pulled his flightstick back as hard as he could. His Valk turned its nose back up to the sky and executed an aileron roll in an attempt to dodge the bullets coming his way. Suddenly, his vertical stabilizer took a hit, breaking the fin off from the plane's body. The loss of this control surface did not terribly impact the craft's performance due to its horizontal thrust vectoring capability, but the psychological impact was definitely taking effect. Now, Cal had the squad leader's RVF in his gunsights, pursuing his target while in fighter form.

"Shit!" The squad leader's breathing and heart rate began to increase and he started to fumble with his MFD controls. After punching in several commands, he hovered his finger over the screen's conductive surface as he watched his objective in his mirrors. "Come onnnn…." Almost in an instant, he jerked his flightstick to the left and mashed his finger onto the screen. Outside of the craft, all of the remaining ordnance detached from their hardpoints on the wings. Among them, two box-like missile pods tumbled back towards his target.

Cal reacted by guiding his Valk around the small field of dummy missiles, but when his position got too close to one of the boxes, the weapon cache exploded. He could instantly feel the heat of the explosion radiating onto his face, while a shock slammed into the craft microseconds later. Small, harpoon-like shards showered all around from the source of the explosion. But in a flash, they had all passed him by. With the devil's own luck, Cal was unfazed as he continued pursuing his opponent. The gunsight reticle on his HUD quickly locked on to its target and he pulled the trigger on his flightstick.

Nothing happened.

Cal pulled the trigger again, but there was no response from his weapon. Was the gunpod out of ammunition? No. There was no audible notification coming from his MFD. He looked down to the screen, only to see that the output was heavily corrupted. Screen artifacts danced all around, obscuring any useful information from the pilot.

"The hell?" Cal jerked his controls back and forth in a display of futility. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of something that should not be there. One of the harpoons from the explosive weapons cache was lodged directly into the wing root just behind the cockpit canopy.

Several thousand feet below, Klan was easily dispatching the two units sent against her. She smirked as she watched a single distant missile blow the last of the two attacking Valks into a large cloud of fire and debris. Her gaze quickly turned upwards towards the location of the final enemy craft.

"Hang in there, Cal. I'm on my way." No reply came. As she accelerated towards his position, she checked her radar and saw that there were still two contacts: one friendly, one enemy. "Cal?" Seconds passed with no reply again. The moment she came into weapons range, she locked onto her target with a salvo of missiles. She was about to tug her fingers to send the fire command when Cal's RVF inexplicably darted in front of the enemy craft.

"What?" She struggled to make sense of the situation as the targeting reticle drifted away from her target. The grey-and-white RVF then unsheathed its combat knife and charged her with threatening animosity. "Cal?" Her voice was noticeably shaky.

"Klan!" Cal's voice was finally heard, "Watch out!"

"What the hell are you doing?" she exclaimed as she began to dodge the numerous attacks coming from the RVF-25.

"It's not me! He's gotten control of my Valk. Like, he hacked it or something. I've lost all my systems! I had to patch my radio through the EX-Gear's transmitter!"

The Queadluun danced around in front of the attacking RVF, unwilling to attack for fear of hurting the pilot. A salvo of bullets came in from above, narrowly missing the Meltran pilot's power armor.

Klan looked up to see the enemy RVF, reunited with its GU-14B, maintaining a safe distance from the two combatants.

"Just eject!"

"I can't! It's not responding!" Cal continued to pull the handle. The EX-gear would momentarily disengage from the cockpit anchor points, wrap itself around the pilot, and then retract back to the docked position.

"I should have bugged out."

A mocking laugh could be heard over the radio while the two pilots argued with each other.

Suddenly overcome with rage, Klan manipulated her controls to make the Queadluun throw Cal's RVF off to one side. The engines in the red power armor quickly spun up, throwing white-hot exhaust out of the ports in its back. The enemy RVF transformed to fighter mode and began to accelerate upwards to maintain distance, but the older engines in its airframe would not be enough to overcome the power of the newer generation engines in the prototype Queadluun.

"Nuh uh uh…"The enemy pilot taunted, "You're going to have to choose between him and me!"

Klan began to growl in anger and continued her pursuit, giving no thought to his declaration.

"Oh, shit. Um, Klan?"

The RVF-171EX and Queadluun Rasa continued to climb the atmosphere, unabated by radio chatter.

"Klan!"

Suddenly, she snapped out of her focused state.

"What?"

Already a couple of kilometers away, Cal's RVF-25 was in fighter form, charging straight for the volcanic islands over which they had been fighting.

"Either you kill me, or he dies. It's your choice!" the enemy pilot chimed over the radio.

The computer in the Queadluun analyzed Cal's trajectory and calculated his final destination. The enemy pilot confirmed the projected outcome.

"He's gonna hit that island at over Mach 5," he laughed, "There isn't going to be anything left of him!"

With no choice, Klan terminated her pursuit and charged towards the island as fast as her new machine would take her. While the technology in the Rasa was cutting edge, was it superior enough to overtake the relatively-new RVF-25? The enemy Valk continued climbing out of the atmosphere and disappeared off to parts unknown.

"Cal! Is there any way to cut your engines?"

"I'm trying!" He had already taken several panels off of the housing underneath the MFD in front of him; bundles of cabling dangled from the exposed ports. The unseen force of acceleration tugged his body backwards, as if the very laws of nature were trying to stop him from succeeding. The fuselage shook and vibrated under the aerodynamic forces of such a high velocity through the atmosphere.

Suddenly, he seemed to find what he was looking for. With a grunt and a lurch, Cal unseated a power relay from its housing. "Gotcha!" The entire cockpit went dead as he leaned back to look at the cubical box now in his hand.

While all of his controls were offline, the engines continued thrusting at their maximum output. The nozzles slowly adjusted to the increasing atmospheric pressure, causing the shock diamonds in the exhaust to change position accordingly. The wings also remained in a swept-back position. Those islands ahead were growing larger by the second.

"Shit! No good!" he exclaimed as he took off his helmet, "I have one more card up my sleeve, though!" Taped in the underside of his headgear was a small data stick. Cal fumbled with it as he tried to find the input port on the side of the MFD. It soon settled into place and he leaned forward once more to replace the relay.

"Come on, you asshole!" Cal yelled in frustration as he blindly stabbed the relay back towards its port over and over.

Suddenly, there was a loud clunk followed by the MFD coming back to life. Individual lights on the controls cascaded in sequence as fully legible text returned to the screen:

RVF-25 Messiah avionics ver. 12.2.125

Hardware release 1.2A

LAI Corporation, Aircraft Controls Division

Manufactured December 2059

Firmware Boot OK

Flash ROM detected

Loading update software from external Port 3…

Cal sighed in relief at the sight of the progress bar slowly filling up on the screen. However, the threat had not yet been alleviated as he was fast approaching terra firma.

"I should have bugged out."

"Klan?" he yelled with a shaky voice, "Where are you?"

It was unclear as to which would happen first: the flash program would complete, or he'd slam into the ground at almost 4000 miles per hour. Even though it might not matter, he put his helmet back on and snapped the neck couplers of his flightsuit into place. He shifted in his chair and gently placed his hands back onto the control sticks, ready to act the very microsecond the MFD finished updating and rebooting.

"What's going on?"

"I'm flash updating the avionics software! It should purge the virus and give me control again!"

"How much longer?"

"Uhhh… ten seconds!"

Klan's heart dropped at that instant as she looked at the figures being shown on the screen in front of her. Too close for comfort.

"Cal?" her voice quivered. Her eyes were already becoming cloudy with tears.

All sound around both pilots seemed to drown out into nothing as the RVF-25 came within seconds of hitting the ground. Cal intently watched his MFD for the first signal of operability while Klan could only watch helplessly from afar. Her hesitation to react had taken away her ability to save him in the end.

"I should have bugged out."

As the progress bar approached the 100% mark, all of Cal's muscles tensed up, both out of preparation to act and from the threat of impending impact.

"Okay, I'm going way too fast to transform into battroid," he mumbled to himself, "I'm just going to have to pull a high-g turn and hope for the best."

Suddenly, the screen shone bright red and the word "READY" practically popped out of the frame. Cat-like reflexes immediately sprang into action, pulling back on the flightstick and pivoting the pedals backwards.

"Got it!"

The RVF's engines vectored their exhaust upwards and the elevators on the tail flipped up to their maximum deflection angle. The craft quickly began to pitch upwards, with the intense g-forces causing the blood to rush out of Cal's head. He could feel his flightsuit tightening around the rest of his body in an attempt to keep the blood where it needs to be. Both he and the craft's chassis strained and groaned to resist the effects of the high g-forces. Out of the corner of his eye, the green, jungle-like canopy flashed into view. It was too late to pull out of the freefall. He snapped the throttle to a 45-degree position as a last Hail Mary.

The engines quickly detached from the body and swung forward, breathing the white-hot exhaust onto the hard earth below. With a sudden lurch from the craft, Cal's vision finally blacked out.

Continuing to pursue, Klan could feel her toes curling as she watched the RVF-25 try to pull the high-g maneuver. Just as the Valk's engines snapped down, she could see ground clutter instantly blasted out from underneath the RVF as the supersonic gases exerted their full thrust onto the hard earth below.

The craft instantly slammed into the ground with an unbelievable force.

"CAL!"

A huge fireball erupted, throwing debris and dirt in all directions. Large chunks of the Valkyrie sprayed forward, kicking up more smoke with each impact. Mighty trees were easily felled by the explosion and subsequent dispersion of wreckage. Klan's cloudy eyes spotted the remains of the fuselage tumbling forward, chunks breaking off with each flip before finally coming to a rest.

The area was now awash with wreckage and flames. Brush fires licked up into the air and the occasional small pop or explosion would send more debris flying from the large chunks of twisted, red-hot metal. The momentarily calm air was once again disrupted by the rush of exhaust from Klan's Queadluun, which set down a few dozen meters away. The cockpit was already open and she spilled out as soon as her power armor's feet hit the ground.

"Cal!" she yelled as she tossed her helmet aside. Her long, blue hair cascaded downwards, before catching the breeze while she ran as fast as her legs would allow.

She rushed over to the remains of the fuselage, which was propped up diagonally against a large boulder. Tears welled up in her eyes as she inspected the wreckage. Although the glass was completely shattered into millions of grains, the canopy miraculously retained its bubble shape. It was impossible to see through the dirt and mud caked onto what remained of the protective glass shrouding the cockpit.

"Oh, you son of a bitch, you'd better still be alive!" she mumbled in anger. Her mind knew that a crash at that velocity was overwhelmingly likely to be fatal, but her heart still held onto the slimmest of hope.

She jammed her fingernails into the seam that separated the canopy from the rest of the fuselage and tried to pry it open, but to no avail. Something more appropriate was needed to give her the leverage she needed to crack this nut open. Searching the wreckage for anything, she spotted the remains of the RVF's left arm nearby.

"Yesss…"

After rolling the robotic appendage over, she grabbed onto a handle and unsheathed the combat knife with a mighty heave. The momentum caused her to stumble backwards, but she quickly regained balance and rushed back to the fuselage wielding a giant blade that was a bit bigger than was appropriate for a Meltran. Still, she managed to wedge it into the seam longways and placed all of her weight onto the blade. Although both the fuselage and combat knife were composed of the strongest alloys, one of them finally gave under the pressure.

The canopy flipped open, sending the knife and its user to the ground with an enormous thud. Cal's body fell out of the cockpit like a rag doll, hitting part of the boulder on the way down. The body slammed onto the hard, packed earth and rolled over two or three times before coming to a rest. Meanwhile, Klan's heart had nearly jumped into her throat. She didn't expect him to fall out and was unable to keep his body from violently hitting the ground.

She rushed to her knees, stooping over his motionless body. His flight suit was in tatters and some of the tears of fabric were already soaked in blood. Her mind raced as to what to do. Was he alive? If so, how could she possibly administer aid when her hands were almost as big as his whole body?

Cal's body slowly began to move. His hands gripped his neck and upper chest as he writhed and rolled, obviously in a lot of pain. Within a few seconds, he managed to work his helmet off, but he continued to wince in agony. He opened his eyes enough to see the giantess looming over his body, to which he reacted by reaching out to her as if to save his own life.

"Cal! Oh, my God. What do I do?"

Klan's eyes were welling up with tears once more upon witnessing his suffering. Her eyes darted back and forth as she contemplated what to do. Left with no answers, she slowly reached downwards with her hand, allowing him to grip her finger. She could plainly see the fear and desperation in his eyes; a sight which continued to fill her with dread. His face, while already covered in sweat and blood, began to lose its color.

It seemed like he was about to run out of time when he finally gasped for air. His larynx created such a horrifying sound from all of the air finally rushing into his lungs, Klan could swear she was hearing some kind of death rattle. Instead, Cal rolled onto his side and began to pant heavily. He spat out saliva and blood a few times before looking up at her horror-stricken face.

"Are- Are you okay?" she asked with a quivering voice.

Cal looked down to the ground again as his mind tried to put the pieces together. The whole ordeal surely crossed a few wires upstairs.

"Say something!"

He rolled onto his back again and closed his eyes.

"I should have bugged out."

A smile began to creep across his face as his breathing started to return to a normal pace.

"Wh- What?" At this point, she didn't know if she should hug him or kill him. Option 1, it was. "Oh, Cal!" she sighed as she bent forward. She cupped her hands around his body and began to kiss his head.

"Ah! Oh! Ow! Watch it!" he exclaimed with each peck.

"What?"

"Ugh," he sputtered, "That fall completely knocked the wind out of me. I might be alive," he continued as he rubbed his side, "but I'm not doing too good." His hand reeled back after touching a sensitive spot. "Yep. That's probably broken." He then began to massage his shoulder. "How did you know I was in trouble?" came the obvious question.

"A little bird told me."

Cal gave her a look of disbelief, but she kind of expected that reaction.

"I was busy writing up some reports when my phone rang," she continued.

"It was Cathy, wasn't it?"

She simply smiled at him and shrugged.

"I don't know how she does it," he mused to himself, "That woman scares me sometimes, to be quite frank."

Just then, both pilots were startled by the sound of the EX-gear falling out of the RVF-25's cockpit.

"Finally, that damn thing disconnected," Cal sighed, "It was a prototype model we were testing out, but it seems to still have a few bugs that need to be worked out."

"Well, we need to get you to a hospital bed," she interrupted, "Do you think you'll be okay if I carried you?" she asked as she gently nudged his body with a finger.

Cal tried to sit up on his own, but a sharp, stabbing pain immediately filled his chest cavity. "Ugh! Yeah, I can't do it myself." He laid back down and winced.

The very tip of Klan's tongue stuck out of her mouth as she gently wedged her fingers under his body. However, Cal noticed movement from a rocky ledge way above her head.

Suddenly, an unidentified EX-geared pilot jumped off of the edge, dragging a felled tree trunk with him like an oversized baseball bat. With an overhead swing, he smashed the log onto the back of Klan's head, sending her straight to the ground and on top of Cal. The simultaneous impact of her body and the wooden trunk violently shook the ground. The EX-gear landed next to her body with one knee bent and slowly rose to full height while the log bounced a few times before coming to rest.

The pilot then began to pace around, looking for signs of life. Klan's long, blue hair now covered the ground as she laid unconscious on the hard, earthen floor. A steady stream of blood ran down her neck, dripping to the ground with a steady pitter-patter. Her shoulder began to twitch, catching the pilot's attention.

Cal slowly emerged out from underneath the giantess's lifeless arm, grunting and straining to free himself. He poked his head up for fresh air, her hair separating and falling down onto his shoulders. He blew air out of his mouth to get more hair away from his face. As he started to look around, he felt the ice-cold touch of metal to his face, accompanied by the distinct click of a striking surface cocking into firing position on a rifle. He slowly turned to gaze up the length of an assault rifle until he could see the EX-geared pilot holding onto the other end by its handle.

"You really are something," the pilot scoffed, "I have to admit it: I really underestimated your abilities."

Cal could swear he'd heard that voice before very recently.

"You were in that van, weren't you?"

The pilot simply laughed. "It's too bad you don't work for us. That was some show you put on out there. Any last words before I put you down?" he asked as he pressed the gun's barrel into Cal's temple.

Klan's breath could be periodically felt against his skin. He considered any and all possibilities when began to hear a faint murmur under her breath. Looking at her momentarily before turning back to his would-be killer, he just smiled.

"When you were a kid, did you ever watch Saturday morning cartoons?"

The pilot's demeanor could not be seen under the EX-gear's protective helmet, but one eyebrow was most definitely higher than the other behind that metallic veil.

"What? No! What kind of stupid-assed question is that? You do realize you're about to die, right?"

"Well, at least let me in on your plan, since you're going to kill me anyway." A smirk desperately tried to emerge on Cal's face, but was rebuffed. A moment passed before he felt the release of the pressure from the gun barrel being pressed into his skin.

"You have no idea of the shitstorm you got yourself involved in," the pilot said as he backed off a bit. His rifle was still pointed squarely at Cal's head as he continued, "We've had sleeper cells embedded within your fleet since the Dulfim incident; she was simply a Trojan horse. To be honest, we were pleasantly surprised at how easy it was to infiltrate your colony," he laughed.

"Well, we didn't see Galaxy as a threat to our well-being at the time. It was a mission of mercy."

"Yeah, but to be so naïve; to not even scrutinize our people to make sure no shady elements were among the refugees? That's just… How can a government be so irresponsible? That just shows how weak your colony is right now."

"Compassion isn't weakness," Cal grunted as he shifted a bit. He stopped moving as soon as the gun's barrel was pressed into his head again.

"Don't move. We've had enough surprises from you already today." There was a brief moment of silence as Cal relaxed his posture once more. "Now there's a new problem: certain elements of your populace have strongly opposed unmitigated immigration. Now they're starting to gain traction and more people join their ranks every day. It's getting harder to move our people into and out of your city unnoticed. We thought we had things under control until you came along and blew it all up with that video of yours. Trust in the media was already in a precarious position, but now… We'll have to turn to plan B instead."

"I can't believe this is working…" Cal thought to himself. He wondered how much more he could press his luck. "What's plan B?"

"You have no idea the kind of military threat we can muster up at the drop of a hat. It may not be enough to destroy your colony, but we can definitely cause a lot of panic and terror. The whole point was to try to weaken the colony from within. Preparations are nearly complete for the subjugation of the Frontier colony. You are merely a stepping stone to conquering the rest of the galaxy."

Not but several months prior, the Macross Galaxy fleet, led by Grace O'Connor and the rest of her co-conspirators, had momentarily gained control of all Vajra swarms throughout the Milky Way. The Frontier fleet was just in time to stop them from exerting their newfound strength to overcome all of humanity's defenses against such an outcome. Surely, the movers and shakers within Galaxy had gotten that brief taste of power; it was just too tantalizing to let go so easily.

"Wow!" Cal replied with insincerity, "You must know exactly what's going to happen next, right?"

A smirk curled up under the opaque visor of the enemy pilot's EX-gear. "Wouldn't you like to know?" The EX-gear's finger slid across the trigger on the rifle. "But I don't see the point in continuing any further. Your stalling won't accomplish anything anyway. Last words?"

"Uh, actually…"

The enemy pilot glared at Cal in anticipation of whatever nonsense was to come out of his mouth, but he caught movement in the corner of his eye. Almost instantly, he whipped his rifle to his left and pulled the trigger.

Klan's arm swept forward with all the quickness she could muster. The sleeping giant had suddenly awakened, unleashing her fury upon the diminutive soldier standing near her body. The impact sent him careening away towards a nearby tree. The assault rifle and broken pieces of the EX-gear scattered all around onto the ground. The pilot's body bounced off of the ground twice before it finally came to a rest against the tree's trunk. For a moment, he looked like a lifeless doll, his torso propped in an upright position and hands laying to the side, palms up.

The Meltran clumsily climbed to her feet, her massive body lumbering over Cal while she regained her composure. She then began to shamble towards the prone pilot, shaking the ground with her every step. Her eyes burned with murderous intent, locking their gaze onto the tiny terrorist on the ground ahead.

The pilot's blurred vision cleared up just enough to see the oncoming danger. His eyes frantically searched around for a method of escape when he quickly saw the rifle lying on the ground just out of the reach of his EX-gear. The ground violently shook with each approaching footstep, sending more adrenaline rushing through his veins. The mechanical hand of the EX-gear desperately grasped at the dirt in front of the rifle with each attempt getting closer and closer to the handle. His body was quickly and suddenly snatched up by Klan's hand, leaving the rifle untouched below.

"You will not harm him!" the giantess growled. Her grip tightened as she closed her other hand around the damaged exosuit.

Cal slowly rose to his feet, fighting off the stinging pain of his injuries. He limped over to where the rifle laid on the ground, picked it up, and used it to prop himself upright. He could hear the groaning of the pilot way above as her grasp made it nearly impossible to breathe.

"Okay, that's enough, Klan," he panted. His voice, already weakened by his injuries, seemingly fell on deaf ears. There was no sign of response from her, while the pilot's groans increased in intensity.

"Klan! We need him to talk! He has valuable information!"

Still, she gave no confirmation. Instead, she let loose a war cry and hurled the pilot to the ground. Her leg began to rise up when Cal tried one last time to stop her.

"No! Stop- !"

His speech was interrupted by the violent cacophony of her foot smashing into the ground. Cal could only look away before the impact occurred. He continued looking to the side as he let out a heavy sigh in disappointment.

Meanwhile, Klan continued to seethe, her chest heaved with each angered breath. Several seconds passed before she seemed to snap out of her rage. She shook her head and blinked before looking around, finally turning to see Cal down near her feet. Upon seeing her gaze, he began to slowly back up. Klan could see the appearance of fear and uncertainty in his eyes.

"What? What's wrong?" She turned to see if there was anything behind her before looking back at him.

"N- Nothing…" Cal stopped moving backwards and rested on the butt of the rifle again. He looked away, as if ashamed.

"Cal, it's me," she said in the most assuring voice she could muster. She took a step towards him and reached out with her open hand in a gesture of non-aggression. Still, he recoiled. This reaction made her stop and retract her hand once more.

"Yeah… I know." He let out another heavy sigh and looked back at her with a forced smile. "Thanks."

"Huh?" She was still confused at his behavior.

"Thanks for coming to my rescue. I wouldn't have survived if you didn't show up when you did."

Klan was a bit shocked at his unusual candor, but even she knows not to look a gift horse in the mouth. An apprehensive smile finally returned to her face.

"You're quite welcome."

Wincing, she delicately reached into her now-bloodsoaked hair to feel the back of her head. Withdrawing her hand, she glared at the glistening blood on it before wiping it onto her flightsuit.

"You gonna be okay?" Cal asked, ignoring the fact that he was most likely more grievously injured than her.

"Probably just a contusion. Plus, I took a few rounds into my hand and arm," she replied, shaking her hand in minor discomfort. To a person her size, rounds from an assault rifle are like the smallest of buckshot. Plus, it had to penetrate thick Zentradi skin. Even if the now-deceased pilot had gotten his rifle back, there was little chance he could pose any kind of mortal threat to her.

The ambience was suddenly drowned out by the explosive roar of a passing military jet. A second unit appeared over the treeline in GERWALK form and descended to the ground as it transformed into a battroid. The mecha held its gunpod in a downward safety position.

"Is everything alright here?" came the pilot's voice over his machine's loudspeaker. "We've been briefed on the situation; an airlift unit will be here any minute, so just hang in there!"

Klan gave a thumbs-up while Cal slunk back to the ground in relief. She followed him closely, lying down next to where he sat. Propping her head up with her arm, she shot a mischievous look towards Cal.

"So, what's the score now? My lead just keeps getting larger, doesn't it?"