Unit Number One: Omen

As I rounded the corner of the trail, I spotted an unsettlingly familiar figure. No one from the camp was allowed to be out this far, and I’d assumed that I was the only one stupid enough or with enough rank to at least somewhat ignore that. It was more than just this unit’s presence out here, though, that was shaking my core so viscerally - no. I regrettably knew exactly who this was by the six kill tallies under her left dominant optic - which was once a gentle shade of orange although its light had since extinguished, the invasion stripes on her wingtips, and her nose painted just a few shades darker than the rest of the grey paint job that overtook her frame. 
Even now she was a ghastly, unworldly sight in the pale glows of my IR vision, but as the cameras focused I reeled further. She was no longer one piece. No longer a creature of sleek, aerodynamic grace, for her belly plate had been horribly gashed and her radome wrent asunder and her cockpit glass shattered in a horrible, horrible mosaic of shards - she was no longer of our world, and was only weakly held together by the unnatural forces of the next. I was wholly and unquestionably terrified by the sight, but something else within me willed calm in her presence. In the moment, it shocked me just how I could force myself to conduct my own voice. 
“...Gwinevere?” 
I had no need to state the obvious of her condition, she had to be more than aware.
The jet swiveled around quicker than she should’ve ever been able to to meet my gaze. Yeah. It was her, alright. As my glacis optic surveyed the ground before me; under her. Her weight appeared to have no bearing on the grass at her tires - or alternatively, perhaps, she no longer had any weight at all. This only contributed to my mixture of wonder and horror upon the sight. I was well aware of the stories my human companions told of this area, but I never really believed any of them. The stories were just that: stories. Even if they were true, I’d have never imagined that the “rules'' would encompass us, as well.
“What are you doing out here?” She asked, some bite to her tone; it was uncharacteristic. She was so… soft spoken, before then.
“I’m..” I paused for a moment, both looking for the right words, and debating if I should even say in the first place. “I’m going out to meet a friend, if you’d call them that.”
“So you’re nightrunning.” She shifted her iris in a manner reminiscent of a cocked brow.
“Is that what they’re calling it now? I’m just helping prevent unnecessary bloodshed; I feel like I have an obligation to.”
“Obligations.” She replied flatly. “You have a lot of those; personal, moral, imposed. You think you’re ever gonna catch a break? They act like just because you have six months on them that you’re some sort of all powerful sage of - unlimited wisdom and reassurance.”
“It does seem quite like it, doesn’t it?”
“You should say something about it. I know it’s eating you alive.”
I, of course, had never told her any of these things about myself. I barely knew her, having only spoken in passing because she was once in Verite’s squadron… Maybe that was it. Verite had just told her these things; he was good at keeping things to himself, but he seemed to trust her quite a lot. I chuckled nervously nevertheless.
“Maybe I should, maybe I should. Not yet, though, I have a lot of things on my plate at the moment.”
“Yeah, and that’s exactly why. You never know when to say no; such a picture perfect little captain, you are, hm?”
I was taken aback for a moment by the gull of such a comment, but before I could find the will to reply, she was turning herself around towards the edge of the woods. I didn’t much care for her presence, as just looking at her made me think I could feel what it was like for a chill to run down one’s spine, but one last thing was clawing at my box that I simply couldn’t leave be.
“Wait!” I blurted, “Should I tell the others that - ....What I’ve seen?”
She braked, and sat in silence for a moment before shifting an optic back to look at me; ultimately calm, but I could sense lament somewhere within the finer aspects.
“I’d rather you not. A few are on their way, anyhow.”
And with that, she drove off as silently as she’d appeared. Even throughout my history of battles, I can’t recall having ever felt such fear in one moment. Who’s on their way? On their way to where? I quickly kicked my engine into gear to follow after her, but as I burst into the moonlit meadow so sorrily pockmarked with craters, she’d already gone.
“Who!? Who do you mean!?” I cried out in vain, but quickly silenced myself, remembering my circumstances.
...
I might as well finish what I came here to do.

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This is a short that I've bad written for quite some time, along with others that I'll be posting soon. I'm at a point with Unit Number One where I don't believe it will ever be a polished, finished product in a cohesively published order, so I'd rather post the content that I have now whenever available so as to not deprive readers of the full, current content of the series. This is to say, I will continue to write for Unit Number One, but it will probably never reach the fruition of a continuous, chronological novel. Instead, it will be a series of short stories from the eyes of Aristophanes Freling and his experience in the war.