The Swarm that covers the sky turns to dust in a sea of fire. Silvery-white snowflakes drift in deep space, reflecting the pallid light of the star. In this brief moment, the endless sound of buzzing and the commands in the communication channel finally dials down to silence.
The Swarm attacking the “empire” has not been eradicated, and the next command to head to battle will ring out again after a brief pause, as it always did.
The Iron Cavalry of the “empire” feels the external sensations passed to her via the deep spinal cord signals. She remembers what she felt the last time she was removed from the cockpit. The hot wind had lightly tousled her hair and the humid air soaked the tissue on the back of her neck, with droplets of sweat stuck to her skin. She does not hate that feeling. It is tenfold more lively than the simulated signals. The armor deeply synchronized its sensory organs with that of the pilot. Though this would worsen the pain of entropy loss, the Iron Cavalry has no other choice if they wish to defeat the Swarm.
“Rule 43 of the Glamoth Military Regulations. Any surviving Iron Cavalry members should voluntarily return to their regiment…”
The fighter only realizes that the external sensory signals have tricked her when she sees the decapitated silver armor — The next command to head to the battlefield will never sound again. What a cruel brief reprieve.