MechARMada - Act 1

by Alpha_Alpha

  • Streaming + Download

    Includes unlimited streaming via the free Bandcamp app, plus high-quality download in MP3, FLAC and more.

      $4 USD  or more




MechARMada is paired with a set of fiction called Life in Orbit. Life in Orbit is the prequel and MechARMada is the follow-up. The story revolves around a fictional human diaspora into space, involving terra-formation of Mars, Ganymede, and Earth-Moon by various allied countries from Earth. MechARMada then gives glimpses of the lives of some of those who live in space, and their struggle with each division of settled space as well as the clamoring threat of the autonomous regime, the Martian MechARMada.

The 'lyrics' open up each chapter that pairs with each song, so click and read along as you listen!

Life in Orbit can be found on my wordpress link (click link on the column to the right, should link you to Alpha_Alpha Engage!), and use the menu to find 'Life in Orbit'.


released February 18, 2010



all rights reserved


Alpha_Alpha Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

Alpha_Alpha uses music and words to tell stories. These projects are prototypes for a more fluid experience in order to fully convey the worlds that Alpha_Alpha wants to introduce, which come from many aspects of his everyday life.

Alpha_Alpha loves listening to records, writing, watching anime, reading comics, cooking, and playing rpg's
... more

contact / help

Contact Alpha_Alpha

Streaming and
Download help

Track Name: A Bug-ridden Contraption

A man paces atop a catwalk with an intense snarl worn on his face. The footsteps resound infinitely within this old industrial building, but the space pirate Renji enjoys the feeling this particular safehouse emanates from the very walls themselves. Voices begin to call from the ladder behind him, which thoroughly upsets any brief moment of tranquility Renji can get.

"Sir! Prisoners... r-r-ready ta be interuh-ruh-rogated, Si-si-sir!" stammers the young whelp sent as a messenger from the restraining rooms. With a huff, the space pirate king and his loyal follower are off to meet their 'guests'.

"Lead on then...n' what am I expectin when I get there? Ya get basic intel outta them?"

" Wel Si-si-sir, The captives have no reh-relative information regarding location of self, let alone the other, as weh-weh-well as concept of time passed...S-s-so ...bu-but they were a Ma-Martian ship like we thought!"

Renji huffs while he walks ahead of the new recruit, this young pup coming into position from yet another destroyed village off Europa's settlements; like many of the others. A loogie flies towards a drain outside of the interrogation control room, preceding the entrance of the pirate clan leader and scourge of the sol system himself. The door slams shut and locks.</em>


Seperated by 10 inches of soundproofed wall material, neither Ingrid nor Quentin, helpless caravan guards unfortunate to be on the wrong ship at the wrong time, can hear the delay as a loudspeaker rings out in both rooms. The voice of Renji barks at both of them.

"State your Name!"

The woman replies first, boldly at that considering she's bound and blindfolded within the holding cell. "Ingrid Janssen, you son of a ---"

"Quentin Reynolds. " mutters the man, despair ridden and withdrawn from this whole experience.

Laughter is the only followup, a psychological attack that is bound to be effective. The booming sound itself bounces through the holding cells and into the ears of each prisoner.

"What happened to you, you scum, filth on the bottom of our shoes, what happened now some three days ago, to figure that you're here with us, eh?"

"There's little to say. We were attacked by fraggin' pirates abourd the cargo ship, Gauntlet. Shouldn't you know this stuff?? Strange enough I was the only female on the entire crew, but it didn't bother me. THIS bothers me, thats for sure..."

Quentin remains silent, so Renji forcefully continues.

" Tell me why you even do business out here in the great void of space. I suggest you cooperate or you might not get out of here."

"You're one messed up inquisitor, but whatever... You wanna know about me? Fine, whatever. My mother was the first one to get me into Mechs, and hell space itself. She had to take up a job repairing and cleaning the units royal soldiers operated on Mars, in the military station not too far from my home. I followed her to work alot of times on the weekend, and soon enough I was helping out at the tender age of 9, starting as summer help then picking up part time through high school. Pretty soon I started going on departure flights as an on site technical repair unit."

The rest is muttered under her breath, Ingrid biting her lip to try and stay strong, despite current disadvantages. Alternatively, it takes Quentin a while of remaining silent, and realizing nothing is happening unless he follows order. Starting softly, he speaks, gaining enthusiasm as his mind is flooded with memories that let him see from beneath the blindfold.

"I...I watched alot of ships, fantasized about flying since I was a little kid, hell, if you're near the way station all your youth... how can one NOT look at the sky. I started as an apprentice trader and learned about how to organize and defend caravan trips from planet to planet as an apprentice steward at first on the...what was that ship.....hrmm....

The pirate interrupts. "And how about your crew, and the one you tried to escape with...?"

They both respond immediately, both full of passion in the face of such a sore subject. "We were together for only a short while, and if it weren't for that blasted , glitch-infested, bug ridden contraption...."

Clicking off the intercom with one switch, the chambers fill with a knockout gas and other gang members are summoned to the common room for a quick little talk on what to do next.

"They bore me....I better see who wants to buy 'em, quick. I'll take any fool who'll process this damned aqcuisition out of my hands."

Renji stares at the large viewscreen of the sea of stars above Jupiter, preparing for todays briefing.
Track Name: Dear Edward
Ingrid’s thoughts wander while she’s knocked unconscious. Being a victim of kidnapping, aside from inhalation of sleep gas, is more than enough to unlock some stranger, near forgotten memories in any of us.

One of my favorite things about space from growing up? It would have to be when I first got my own wireless link to the Information Network on Mars and learned the things my mom fixed, the very Mechs of combat and developmental function, etc, are part of a long lore of Giant Robotics as a tool by mankind, even from when man lived on earth. I did a lot of research and learned about the culture of robotics from age old nations like Japan, France, America, Great Britain, even Canada; surprisingly we followed the steps laid out in fiction far beyond Verne’s Narwahl with these creations. This led me to lots of resources on space as well. That's how I was led to my favorite show, an old animated series from the late 20th century.

Cowboy Bebop changed my life. Once I found out Edward was a girl, the desire to become a master of machinery, electronics, ANYTHING smart like Edward was near unquenchable. Still just a little girl, I acted out adventures written about the two of us being our own group of female bounty hunters, using our technical skills and wits to solve problems all over the galaxy and beyond. She was my idol, and she made me laugh all the while….even though I knew she wasn’t even real.

I still remember the poem I wrote about her, as if I were on Mars and she were a real person who I used to play with. Children have the most powerful of imaginations, it can keep us safe…What an odd thought….

Dear Edward…

What’s it like, floating past the sky?
I bet the food isn’t nearly as good,
Before you left, I was alright,
Yet how I’ve missed, the time that would

Bring us closer, still and closer until
Edward, can you sense my thoughts?
I’ve even begun beaming transmissions at the sun
Hopefully to find your response

It’s lonely here, without your laugh
Buzz of machines,
hacking datastreams
Empty room occupied only by drafts

Of a wind, bitter and quiet.
How intense your red hair was!
Oh Edward, do visit soon because
Without you my whole life is silent!

Track Name: Five/Four
“What have you discovered regarding the subject, Meia?”

A freckled girl with thick glasses and short-cropped, red hair, looks up from a digital clip-screen and replies nasally.

“Reporting. Captain Norville. The subjects memory signature has revealed the following background based on collectively ordered memories, sir. Subject , twenty-three years old, is named Quentin Reynolds. Born on Earth-moon, medical records verify and show healthy birth-screen as well as repeated youth-screens until relocation of family to Moon-Martian way-station outpost at age of nine.”

Meia’s pause is paired by a nervous glance in Norvilles direction, who simply nods for her continuation.

“R…right, as I was saying. His father Shawn Reynolds was in charge of transit security while his mother, Clara-Denise Reynolds was a medical officer assigned to the station. Apparently both were under the employment of Earth-Moon and agreed to travel to this position in order to monitor and assist travelers throughout Moon-Martian space.”

A communicator begins to buzz in Meia’s pocket, whose face turns bright red. Flustered words cannot interrupt her big moment, not now! Heels click together, and volume is increased as more air is expelled from the lungs.

“Several stow away attempts while still an adolescent. Unfortunate for the subject, his father found him every time, total 17 attempts from the age of 13 to 15. At age 15, Father enrolls him on board a local trade-ship as a janitor and assistant, collecting pay in place of the hard-working lad for four years. After this time, the subject apparently wrecked a significant piece of equipment….data indicating it being a completely fried auto-navigation system due to improper tampering. Discharged, the subject applied for his caravaneer’s license at age 19. After time of one year, he successfully joins M.F.C.G, the Martian Federated Caravaneers Guild. Aged 20.”

Captain Norville is nodding to himself, though completely bored with this statement of routine display. He knew after this formal event, he’d never see the subject again as the Jackals in R&D will be gnawing at every bone in order to perfect their little project. Eyes meet between he and Meia once again, the younger woman noticing her superior officers wavering attention. Norville coughs and nods along at the same pace as before.

“After three years he participated in several voyages between all colonies, specifically Mars and Earth-Moon. Renji’s gang got him off the ship Gauntlet, and he has no recollection of events after the attack. “

“Is that all then, Meia?”

She nods, bowing once and dismissing herself from the briefing room as other ranking officers rise for her exit. They are seated once again, and Norville bangs a small gavel.

“Dealings with the Space Pirate have yet to be in our favor against mother Mars’ regime, but we’ve little choice. The weapon raided off of that very ship mentioned, Gauntlet, needs a pilot to be bound to it mentally and physically. Renji told us that this man had been designated already by ships record to become the future pilot. R and D will have to perform this operation within one months time, when we launch a full scale assault against the MechARMada mother-ship. You all have duties for preparation as well, so carry them out, send messages to your loved ones and families, and be prepared to follow our prototype design into battle at that date. Dismissed!”


Meia hides in the corner of a far hallway on the CORP support ship where she just gave her presentation, frantically sending a text message via standard issue mobile communicator.

It’s over, Frank, we’re going to war. Goodbye

She slumps down lost in thought.

Track Name: Get out of Here!
Her senses started to return….

It was the sound of a tasered child, a shrieking girl falling to the ground, forcing Ingrid to fall with. Arms and feet, heavy with the pull of iron, rattling chains yanked as the fragile body fell. Ingrid’s sight began to groggily return, and when it finally snapped into focus, she could ascertain what in the hell was going on. There must have been 30 other prisoners chained together in this facility hallway!

In contrast to the line up of other women headed towards who knows what deeply vile destination, Ingrid’s clothes were barely tattered. Rags, covered in mud and some specks of dried blood, adorned even the youngest of females. How long have they been marching together, or even without Ingrid among their ranks? Where exactly were they? How long had it been since she was on the Gauntlet?

And what about Quentin?

Ingrid started to laugh quietly to herself as a portly, grizzly faced guard continues to prod the twitching child to attention. Some of the other prisoners started to shout at him to stop, but this provokes only a more diverse range of contact from the other two guards wielding riot staves. As other shrieks began to echo down the hallway where they stopped, Ingrids laughter increases in volume,overtaking the air as her eyes and skin start to glow a strikingly bright white, appearing as more of a second skin than a complete replacement of self. It seemed as if she were shining.

Her shackles snapped clean off. Her fingers began to curl. Wherever here was, she wasn’t planning on staying.

Other prisoners backed away in terror as the first guard, knocked brusquely aside when approaching the white-hot heroine, becomes motionless where he lands. It was the second guard who saw his own blood first, however, when Ingrid’s fist smashed his nose flat, turning the cross eyed guard into a fetal position in seconds. All who remained was the one tasing the young girl, looking up with a glare at this new threat. Ingrid continued to glow, her teeth clenched together in a frightful grin. The guard spits on his young victim and put up his fists to fight, taking the error in blinking.

Now she was right in front of him, her striking palm sticking through his gut and square out of his lower back, twitching. To free herself, Ingrid kicks the sad lump off her forearm, wiping the blood using his fat face and clothes. All the women continue to stand in terror, finally noticing that with the chains broken, they are able to run away! The child is scooped up by a tearfully thankful mother quickly and Ingrid is left alone to plan her own escape.


“No, Frank! we can’t! Oh…!”

In the hangar, a female mech pilot was pulled closer, her lips brought to a man in a suit’s own two forcefully. Frank laughed after committing to the kiss.

“C’mon lulu! I’m on the rebound, I just got dumped by the last girl I thought I could rely on! Well, good riddance anyways…”

“You can’t mean that, you loved Meia! You always talked about how you grew up together, she was the only one…”

“..who i kept in contact with after joining, yea yea, well, she’s with CORP anyway. Now whenever we meet out there, at least there won’t be anything to hold us back against our dreams….”

LuLu stayed in Franks arms, trembling. She looked up at Ultra-Violette, her personal Mech as it seemed to be staring back at her in Renji’s Pirate Den located on Ganymede. This was the forefront of the individualist movement against the Nu Martians and their blasted ideals, against the CORP and their concept of how people should live. Renji and his group were individuals who shared that single commonality against the masses, for as they held their unique nature and pursuits above the systematic lives of the rival factions, they were united. Thanks to the weakness in the warlords of the other developing nations on Jupiter-Moons, the overall colonies were ripe for the picking as the more organized groups were expanding their respected spheres of influence. Renji and his flock decided action was necessary, and no one has ever hesitated to join. People have come together from even as far as Earth-Moon for Renji’s option, something he never took for granted. If you stayed or left, that was up to the individual.

Now, LuLu was faced with a feeling typically associated as fear, but was taken to differently by the veteran pilot. Her face drained of all color, save her lips which were still made up to be bright red. She looked at the Ultra Violette, nodding after a discerning gulp and then turned to change her focus into Frank’s eyes.

“There is a time on the field of battle when all who take that step out there are meant to understand how close to death they really come. I’ve fought in thirty battles, thirty or more souls bound to me right now and every moment that I continue to live and each time i am brought closer and closer to that moment through understanding how close the last battle comes with each victory.”

“What’re…you gettin at Lulu?”

Lulu grabs his hand and holds it to her heart, leaning forward and kissing him again just as Ingrid came bursting through the grate above, falling full force onto the unfortunate pair. Her aura starts to seep back to non-existence, Ingrid left panting violently as she gathers the bits of her new surroundings, taking time to wipe her blood soaked boots on someones jacket left hanging nearby. She looks up at the mech stationed there.

“You there! Are you ready to get out of here!!??”

The mech did not respond at first, but after a few seconds, out pops the chest cavity for admittance inside. Ingrid steps onto the quicklift installed nearby and prepares to board.

The Ultra-Violette and its new pilot blast out of the hangar, past the atmosphere and back into the void of space, leaving Ganymede and the terrible memories there behind.

Track Name: Ingrid Janssen's Kidnapped Lover
A Radical Blurb against Mars from Renji's Pirate UniWeb Server, Part 1

It's hard to tell when the idea for a New Martian Initiative first formed. Sure, the history files will state that after the Settlements Resource War, Didier Moris, son of famed Dr. Etienne Moris, was the first to propose formation of the new monolith of governance in this burgoening world; The Great Auto-Construct was the focus of the plan. A Basis of the mechanical military of autonomous mechs, thousands strong and ready for command. One mightily majestic armada. Ready to represent this, 'New' Mars.

This information, as the documents may state at dome alpha as Martian Law, is falsified. There was never a Didier Moris, not on Mars, or anywhere at That. Etienne Moris did move to Mars, but he was the last of his clan. That is the lesser known reality. So what of the defiant symbol versus the galactic frontier that was the Auto-Construct?

The first colonists who discovered such a hard to miss 'intelligent factory' can only give sparse recurrences of a time without it embedded in the red planets iron-oxide soil. Heresay and investigation within the domes will yield nothing of the truth. Only by crusining around the surface outside of civilization, will you see one man's great work. He was one of the few bold thinkers who emigrated to the red planet; An artist who was known as Chookoku bequeathed a scattering of murals depicting the story of a beautiful meteor shower along large cliff faces, all facing and without presence in depiction of the mighty mech fortress.The meteors carved bright pink lines through the non-purified and then weak atmosphere, and as one follows Chookoku's work, all heavenly objects seem to appear lower and lower until the mighty shadow of autonomy is before your eyes instead. Not surprisingly, you can't find existence of Chookoku on Mars, but I knew him well.

He was my world.

However, nowadays, anyone would tell you the 'well known' origin and dismiss any correlation with the shower of heavenly bodies and the construct itself. After all, it makes more sense for the common people to rally behind the 'son' of a man so crucial to Mars' expansion as Dr. Moris apparently was.


Drifting in space, the Ultra Violette and pilot seem to be sobbing!

Electronic noise mixed with human tears permeate the cockpit out towards the void of space amidst floating debris from a destroyed convoy vessel. This being the third in a string of assaults against Renji's interplanetary supply line, actions completely fruitless in the eyes of Ingrid. The tears continue as she considers taking a better option.

"Where are you, Quentin?" she mutters softly, holding her hand out and pressing the palm flat against the monitors cramped together before her eyes. With each destroyed ship, the Ultra Violette pieces together what pre-existing information it can, all signs pointing out towards unknown sectors that seem like garbled bits of data and barely correlate.

What could the space pirate have done with him? Images of the slave line only turn her sobs into outright bawls, knowing Quentins life would be much tougher than even her own experience. Could be involved in internment mining projects, or even cognitive rewriting as a shell-soldier, or worse! This seemed to snap Ingrid's sense back into focus, the faculties of Ultra Violette syncing with the pilot and returning an ok_ready status. The mech lets out a jet of steam, the moisture changing composition to hail quickly. Here in the frigid grasp of the silent void, everything is at a standstill...

And more importantly, what was she?

Ingrid had seen this side of herself, but it was so long ago. It hadn't been since growing up near Olympus Mons that she last felt that intense warmth throughout her body, the sense of time and space as a webbed material surrounding her. The moment will always feel brief, but when the world loses its lustre, the events during this consciousness pile up behind her. An hour would only feel like five minutes. She never bothered to talk about it, and as she grew older she learned to lock up the ability into her subconscious. Paired with the others in chains, not a clue where anything she desperately tried to make hers in her life had lept off too. Asking why she had been left behind like a faded bauble, when this feeling came back. She knew what must come next.

No matter how difficult the search, or the price paid by her lover, Ingrid Janssen will stop at nothing to get him back.