"Angelwomb... We called them." Zeis whispered. "This child's name was... I cannot see her face..." he continued rumbling, and removed the debris around the torso of the machine with a monstrous psychic power.
“This particular one is named Lancellest."
"Is it damaged?" The charadrian man showed the unnaturally concave part in the core of its front hull. "This part over here. It is inward and soft, like the seat of a cockpit. We thought the armour of its cockpit was broken, and the pilot died that way, but the intermission between the cavity and hull is very clean and smooth."
"That truly is the seat of the pilot."
"Then our assumption was right?"
"No... The cockpit is not damaged. Armour are not efficient enough to leave the protection of the pilot to, neither are they suited; for observasional purposes. Friends of the Angelwomb would run them by channeling in their psychic power to spirit them, and the womb would sustain a psychic curtain around the pilot, harmonizing this energy. The minimal amount of psychic power that is required only to move this machine, I am not sure even I have. It requires unparalelled excellence and power to instrument it. Look at that arm. This particular one has a Psychic Interceptor. It would take lifetimes to master its use even for me. I humbly honour her nameless master."
"Certainly it would not possibly work after being buried here for two hundred million years in any case." The scientist said.
"Let us elaborate on that."Zeis replied.
A sketch I had been wanting to give life to for some time. Personal work.
