Faster... faster...
She was slowly getting a feel for piloting the red Manta suit. It had not come back to her immediately, and Uzbecka was keenly aware that she was piloting a battlesuit; yes, she was flying at high speeds to keep pace with the green Manta and its pilot, but she had no illusions that about how she might fare in either a dogfight or a fistfight. Hopefully, circumstances would not call for a fight, but they were in unknown enemy territory, and ambush was always a concern in the Swirl.
The other pilot, Rio, was also an unknown quantity. For now, circumstances dictated that they work together, but they could turn on each other at any moment, and Uzbecka fully expected the other pilot to fly into the Swirl and disappear at any moment, which was why she was pushing herself to keep up. Flying the Manta was exhilarating, of course. The suit formed an immediate spiritual connection with its pilot, and with time and speed, that connection was deepening. It felt like a special kind of joy, racing through the fog of the Swirl, which was an essential component in that connection, with the suit filtering the psychic energy of the crackling fog, the same way the Runagate did, converting it into fuel and operational drivers through the suit's spirit weird, which Uzbecka experienced from time to time as a chiming voice that advised her from time to time to gain or lose altitude. Primarily, however, the suit spurred her on.
Faster... faster...
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