2. Armory
The large door to the armory clanged open and Gelnorra shuffled through, exhausted from the trek back to base. Her armor's power cells had been drained to a critical level and had reduced their output to the minimal wattage required for her to retain some mobility. Walking in the chunky suit on low power was exhausting, despite her rigorous training and excellent state of fitness.
She hulked over toward her charging station inset into the grey metal of the far wall. With each step she barely lifted her armored feet enough to slide over the deck. As she moved, Gelnorra reached up and stabbed the blocky helmet's release catch with a gauntleted finger, the neck seal hissing softly as filtered atmosphere in her suit escaped. Splitting at the back, the helmet fell forward off the sealing surface and dropped into her waiting hands, her face was dripping with the liquid exertion from her battle, and from the long trek that came after. She took a deep breath and shook her head, trying to shake free her shoulder length black hair, which was clinging to her face and neck. Gelnorra had poured too much power into her lance when she had charged it to finish off the strange machine. While she was satisfied with the result, she wished she had used just a bit less. Without a second look, she dumped the helmet into a cleaning tub as she passed.
Still making her way to the charging station, she thought about her fight, what she had seen under the machine's helmet. It was strange that a machine would bother with a helmet, or a humanoid form for that matter. Burj had other, more effective machines for tearing apart the humans on the planet's surface. Even the small quadruped scouts posed a serious threat to the members of her shrinking unit. The humanoid had been barely a challenge, for which she had been glad. Gelnorra was now among a handful of people that could say they had directly battled one of Burj's machines and returned not only victorious, but intact.
She stepped onto the circular platform of the charging station, arms out to the sides. The mechanical interfaces of the station reached out to her, connecting with various anchors and ports on the armor. A seam opened in the back of the armor's torso, and Gelnorra half stepped, half fell backwards out of the suit. Legs burning, she shuffled to the small locker to the left of the station and extracted an electrolyte tonic and a dense ration bar. She sank down onto the edge of the platform, staring hollowly out at the quiet armory as she broke the seal on the tonic.
The armory, now mostly empty save for her suit and the four others beside it, had once been crowded with supplies and equipment. Directly to her left was the thick metal door that led to the rest of the base. Standing in a row inset into the wall starting at the door were a dozen empty charging stations, waiting for light combat armor that would never return. Gelnorra found herself wishing that she had refitted one of them to accommodate her bulky heavy gear. The other side was occupied by various workbenches and suit hoists, all slowly being coated in dust from disuse.
Gelnorra closed her eyes, remembering a time not too long ago when the armory had been a place of bustle and noise. The armorers and engineers always had at least one of the suits in a hoist, tinkering, upgrading, and constantly arguing about weight to power ratios or weight to speed. Families of defense force members would visit from the now gone nearby town, and her compatriots would proudly show off their armor to their children or significant others. So many of those families would never see the armor again, or the people that had so bravely worn them in their defense. The town itself had evacuated a few years ago, its citizens shipping off planet to the moon station. They likely had no idea that their loved ones were likely slain by the brutal forces Burj had sent to the surface.
The door to the base slid open and Gelnorra forced down the sob that was rising in her chest, looking at the figure limping toward her.