I slip my feet into the fitted boots and slide my fingers into padded gloves. When I press my back against the armored shell, the rest of the suit closes around me, metal clicking and clacking into place like a second skin. Soon the suit covers me from neck to toe in several inches of protective steel. I step forward and it moves with me, machinery working to carry the massive weight of the rig. It feels deceptively light and easy to handle, but each of my steps makes a heavy clunk on the hangar floor. I turn and grab my helmet, each finger clicking as the metal joints move, and slip it over my head.

The helmet locks into place, molding to the suit’s spine, and my world narrows to a thin slit. My breath echoes in my ears, tinny and too close. The Sanita dampens my nerves to a slight shiver but doesn’t stamp out the anxiety completely. This machine has saved my life a hundred times over, but it never fails to feel like a metal death trap in these first few seconds.

Once I have a hold of myself again, I press a button on the inside of my right glove to activate my comms and am immediately greeted by Magda’s laughter. The sound warms me—but I stifle the response. I shouldn’t feel that way. Especially not shortly before a dangerous mission.

“What’s so funny?” I ask, sharpening my voice.

Magda makes an effort to control her laughing fit, though a few more chuckles still slip through.

“Sorry, sorry,” she says. “It’s just… the new girl…”

“Do we really have to bring her?” Sverre’s voice rumbles in my ear now, sounding considerably less amused. “She’ll be a hindrance.”

I turn to see Ivennie standing stiffly alongside the others, her arms held straight out. Daniil is still standing next to her, trying to shout orders that must be unintelligible now that her helmet is on.

“She’ll be fine. It’s only a retrieval mission.” Strictly speaking, I’m not sure if that’s true. But expressing any uncertainty will merely worry them more, and we need a full team in case the enemy shows up. So close to the border, we have to be prepared for that. If our outpost noticed whatever is happening in that valley, it’s just a matter of time before the Isolationists do as well.

I walk over to Ivennie, waving a hand in front of her helmet to get her attention, and gesture toward the communications button on the hand of her exosuit. After a few tries, her panicked breathing fills my helmet. “There,” I say. “You’re fine. Take a lap around the hangar, get used to the feel.”