The distance to Green Dragon hadn’t seemed so far from the cavern’s central platform, but Emily’s legs were cramping and her breathing had grown ragged long before she reached the periphery of the dragon’s viridescent glow. At least she wasn’t cold, but her sweat-soaked shirt promised that she would be the moment she slowed to a walk.

  Why couldn’t the Mercury Riders have built a moving walkway with their stupid constructor bots? And why aren’t the dragons closer together? Nothing about this makes any damn sense! A manic giggle escaped Emily’s lips between her gasps. That was exactly right, wasn’t it? Nothing made sense, and nothing ever would again.

  Emily’s awkward jog slowed to a limp as she entered the pool of light surrounding Green Dragon, and she allowed her gaze to drift nervously upward. She clutched the walkway’s railing with one hand, the green wand in the other. This isn’t even the biggest dragon, she reminded herself, gaping up at the huge mech. That distinction was held by White Dragon, with Blue and Red Dragon a close second and third. Still, Green Dragon was at least half again as tall as Michiko’s Pink Dragon and probably twice the mass.

  Like Michiko had said, each dragon fulfilled a different battlefield role: White Dragon was a tank, Blue a lighting-fast close-combat specialist, Red a standoff damage dealer, and Pink a stealth skirmisher. Green was a bit of all of those things, meant to control the battlefield and plug the gaps where needed. Emily fought down a fresh wave of vertiginous nausea as gazed at Green Dragon’s armaments. Like I’m supposed to be able to control that thing?

  The giant mech cradled a mass-driver across its gleaming chest, a weapon that looked like an assault rifle blown up to the size of several semi-trucks; a missile battery perched on one shoulder, a stubby ion-cannon on the other, while along the mech’s back, nestled between its thrusters, was a massive blade that looked like it could cut through a container ship (or three). If the show was accurate, then Green Dragon’s hips and thighs would carry additional systems—compact turrets recessed flush into the armor that would act as point-defense systems and anti-missile screens when in battle.

  A distant metallic clang jerked Emily from her awe. Another followed, faint but unmistakable, echoing in the huge darkness, and then another, from a different direction.

  The elevators. Emily squinted at the blue form of the nearest dragon. The darkness and the shimmering blue light that surrounded the distant mech made it impossible to make out Lachlan’s elevator, but she could imagine it, along with the others: three separate platforms rising through shafts of colored light, each carrying one of her friends toward their respective cockpits.

  Emily tore her eyes from Blue Dragon and limped to her own elevator. She pulled open the metal grating, snapped it shut behind her, and punched the red 上 button. Her elevator gave a lurch, and began its ascent.

  The ride felt like it took forever; at least, long enough for her to grow cold and begin to madly shiver. She turned the Green Dragon’s wand in her hands, delicately feeling the recessed buttons along its sides as the elevator rattled upward. She wondered where Shinji’s access point had been, all those years ago. His house? But Michiko had said that Shinji’s dad had torn the place apart trying to find it, before he was committed to an asylum. She swallowed, her throat dry and sticky. When this is all over, I’ll take his elevator and find out. If I make it back.

  The elevator shuddered to a halt, and Emily flung open the steel grating. She forced herself to stare straight ahead as she slowly approached Green Dagon’s head; her legs felt close to buckling as it was, and she was afraid that confronting just how high she was might be the final straw to collapsing in an existential crisis.

  Finally, she stood before the sheer green metal of the Green Dragon’s pilot hatch. If it wasn’t for the walkway terminating at this point, the hatch would have been difficult to make out: there was only a faint indent in the metal, and 操龍席ハッチ in small, red stencil lettering to one side.

  She took a deep breath. Here goes nothing. Heartbeat galloping against her sternum, she placed her palm against the cold green metal of the dragon.

  The show had never really shown this part. If Emily had to guess, she would have imagined a door sliding open, revealing the cockpit. She would have stepped inside, plugged in the green wand, and powered up the mech. A simple, straightforward process.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  That was not what happened.

  Emily barely had time to scream as she was pulled inside the mech by dozens of metallic arms. Mech tentacles? Really? a part of her blindly thought, but then she was spinning through cossetted darkness, unable to breathe, let alone think. It felt like she was two years old again, helplessly struggling and bawling as her mom tried to dress her mid-tantrum, except now she was fighting against the unfathomable, internal mechanisms of a giant robot.

  She twisted in mid-air, one metal arm gripped around her waist while a dozen others pulled off her shirt and then her pants and socks, her kicking feet useless against the intractable strength of the mech tentacle-arms. For a moment she was unfathomably, ridiculously, naked, suspended midair—then she felt a heavy, almost rubber-like fabric latch itself against her skin, and a visored helmet was shoved onto her head. Then, as if the metallic arms were only too happy to be rid of her squirming body, she was flung into Green Dragon’s cockpit.

  A nervous whimper escaped Emily’s lips as she tried to reorient herself. She held up one arm, then another, reassuring herself that she was, in fact, still in possession of her limbs. Somehow, impossibly, she had retained the green wand, even though her once bare hands were now covered in green gloves. Her whole body, in fact, was encased in a form-fitting green suit, exactly the same as the one Shinji had once worn.

  The cockpit was claustrophobically small. In fact, it didn’t feel so much like she was sitting in a chair as riding a motorcycle, her body hunched over in the small space, feet in stirrup-like structures. Above her and to either side were hundreds of multi-colored buttons and toggle-switches labeled in Japanese, while in front of her were two joystick-looking devices. Between them was a small opening, the size and shape of her wand.

  None of this looks like the show, she frantically thought, pinpricks of sweat breaking out along her back. Sure, occasionally there had been a close-up of a certain button being pushed or switch being thrown, but mostly the show had focused on the young pilots’ faces as they yelled pithy taunts and one-liners while engaged in space combat.

  Swallowing, Emily inched the green wand toward its waiting keyhole. It entered with a satisfying click.

  The cockpit swarmed to life, and a deep hum vibrated through her body. Directly in front of her, five heads-up-displays appeared: one large one, and four underneath, showing—

  “Emily!” Michele yelled, her mouth splitting into a huge grin of relief.

  “You guys!” Email shouted back, gasping with relief at the sight of her friends’ faces. They were all there, Michelle in red, Lachlan in blue, Ansel in white, Michiko in pink, and… Miss Yama? Emily realized, gaping at the cat, whose face was peering out intently next to Michiko’s own.

  “Glad to see you all made it,” Michiko said, giving her cat a kiss before gently setting the animal to her side, off-screen. “The dragons have not rejected you. That is good. How does everyone feel?”

  “You mean, besides being assaulted by robot tentacles?” Michelle replied, brows furrowing behind her red visor.

  “I haven’t felt that violated since high school wrestling,” Lachlan added. “And I might have thrown up again in there…”

  Ansel flexed a white-gloved hand. “Are our clothes gone for good? I was quite attached to those jeans.”

  “Sorry everyone,” Michiko said, grimacing. “It’s… been a while. It wasn’t like that every time for us.” She exhaled through pursed lips, suddenly looking nervous beneath her pink visor in a way that Emily didn’t find reassuring. “The next step is the dragon interface. Do you see the red button to the right of the dragon wand keyhole?”

  Emily glanced down. It was impossible to miss, with a single kanji beneath it: 起.

  “This will start the interface process. It only lasts a few moments, but it is unpleasant.”

  “This is the part where the dragon either accepts or rejects us?” Emily asked. She cleared her throat. “And, um, what happens if the dragon rejects us?”

  “It would be best not to dwell on that outcome,” Michiko replied, avoiding Emily’s searching gaze. “Just, push the button.”

  “Wow, that really makes me feel better,” Lachlan said, trying to smile.

  Emily and her friends exchanged glances through their heads-up-displays.

  “On the count of three, then?” Michelle suggested.

  Emily and others nodded.

  “One,” Lachlan, tentatively offered, raising his hand over his button.

  “Two,” Ansel curtly added.

  “Three!” Emily shouted, her yell joining those of her friends.

  She pushed the button.