The ISA Air Mobile Calvary (descendant of the United States of America Army's 1st Cavalry Division) had spent most of its century and a half on Vekta ferrying semi-important military brass around the planet. Their days were spent in near-infinite boredom and their nights were spent flying personal aircraft or - more frequently - drinking and discussing what they wish they could have been doing instead. They spent years gaining advanced flying skills only for them never to be used. The division itself had been reduced and eventually sidelined by man's great leap into interstellar space. Earth's naval forces decided that travelling the vast, dark expanse had more in common with seafaring than flying and ousted the major air forces for the bulk of the projected military spending in this venture. During the First Extrasolar War, elements of the UCA Navy had their own air assault divisions and the Air Cavalry had their flying skills put to the test with supply runs between ships in the fleet. Warfare had changed and there seemed to be no more need for a highly mobile air assault force. And from there the ISA Air Mobile Cavalry remained on Vekta.
Men would join up after reading the rich and exciting history of the division to find nothing of the sort remained. New recruits were often told by the 'old salts' that if they wanted excitement and adventure then they would have to 'sort that out on their own time'. Many did and spent their time off perfecting their flying skills with privately owned ships or commercial jobs on the side. Whether they came up with it or not, they called themselves 'The Shuttle Club' and continued their slow slide out of the history books and into obscurity. This was cemented by their involvement in the Helghast invasion of Vekta when they were charged with removing high ranking military officials from the capital to safety. Once this evacuation was complete they were informed that there was no need for them in the fight and to hold their position. This was the final straw for many who decided to see out their service and leave once the Helghast were forced once more from Vektan soil.
Those who went through with this promise and left for more lucrative positions as commercial pilots came to consider it the biggest mistake of their lives. As the ISA Air Mobile Cavalry was about to be given a chance to relive its golden age, to rebuilt itself from the ground up (as it had done in the run-up to the Vietnam War in the middle of the 20th century). Rumours flew around of a counter invasion and of a high-profile ISA Marine general having himself a falling out with a Navy admiral - he demanded a more suitable insertion method for his men onto Helghan and had been denied. For once all the rumours turned out to be fact.
The captain walked the line of ships, shouted something that I couldn't hear from inside and received a succession of thumbs up from the crew chiefs sat on the backs of the intruders. My own chief, Sergeant Jones, was sprawled out at the front edge of the intruder's deck and I could see his boots on either side of the cockpit. I turned an envelope over in my hands and folded it away into a pocket. It was from Shelly back on Vekta and I already knew what it said without reading it. Captain Allan's index finger traced the outline of a horizontal disc - an archaic gesture from the days our unit took ancient helicopters into battle - and Jones slapped his hand twice on the bulletproof glass above my head. I gave him the finger in return and threw on the ignition, the welcome hum of the main thruster vibrated up through the chassis to my ass and feet. Checked the dials and levels, all in the green so started up the two, side-mounted manoeuvring thrusters. Pushed out the throttle until the engines were carrying the weight of the intruder, Jones and myself. Then it was just a case of waiting my turn before lifting us up, out of the parking space and into the Helghan sky. For the third time that day I eased my intruder into its allotted slot of the seven ship formation - second from the right hand tip of the arrow.
I looked down over Pyrhuss, an urban sprawl of shanty towns and iron sheet roofs speckled with burning buildings and the funnels of upward smoke they produced. The sky glowed pink from the sun's low refraction through the harsh atmosphere and made for a far nicer day than yesterday. The tide had turned for us with the petrusite grid destroyed the Higs apparently in disarray. We were then ferrying marines into the more affluent downtown areas that had simply been too dangerous to fly in before. We had taken no enemy fire in our two earlier missions, not so much as one crazy grunt on a rooftop begging us with his rifle to shred him up with our gun placements (Jones would have been more than happy to help him out). I had a smile on my face as we reached the marine forward operating base in the Salamun Market and moved into a holding hover above the buildings - forever waiting our turn.
I looked downtown, to my right, and the sun glared in my eyes. Manoeuvring the intruder I was able to put a taller structure between the sun and myself. The boots had disappeared from my peripheral vision and I heard Jones tread carefully around the deck. There was a flash, the light of a new sun, that blinded me, filled the cockpit and the surrounding sky. I was gone before I even had time to lose control of the ship, incinerated by the heat of this new sun. Pyrhuss disappeared with me, a city destroyed in less than an instant. My last thoughts were of Shelly in the arms of another man.
I awoke with a startled jerk and reached for my watch on the night stand out of some reflex - I had only been asleep for three hours. My mouth tasted dead inside and I sat up to find that my head had been filled with razor blades. The slightest movement brought a painful throb and once I became accustomed to it I swung my legs out of the bed. I stayed there for a minute of two and nursed the beginnings of my hangover with my head in my hands. The bed sheets slipped away from around me as she rolled one way then the other and created a cotton cocoon for herself. I peered over my shoulder and could make out a flurry of brunette hair at the top, the curls so perfectly placed that she could have styled it herself just before I woke up.
There was rain at the window, a steady crackle at the glass. Getting to my feet was a mistake and the sudden rush of blood made my brain feel like it was trying to break out of my skull. Each step shook up the razorblades and it was seven flat-footed thumps to the en suite bathroom. "Lights," talking forced me to again taste the muck that had accumulated, "One quarter brightness and five second shift." The bathroom slowly hummed into life and after five seconds I found that one quarter brightness was still enough to overload my eyes, adding a new new pain to the sensory cocktail. Two more heavy steps and I was able to lean myself against the edge of the chrome-plated sink. The mirror was not flattering. The two days' growth and dark circles under my eyes I had expected, the plaster along my jaw and bruising on the opposite cheek I had not. My hair was a mess and there were small scabs on the knuckles of my right hand. I gave my face a quick splash and turned unsteadily back to my room.
"Lights off," I belched the second word and I felt the beginnings of bile come up my throat. I managed to crack one shoulder off the door frame on the way back through and let out a muffled 'fuck sake'. Over to the window to find my lighter on the carpeted floor and the pack of smokes perched precariously on the sill - a bad habit brought about by waiting around for generals with too much time on their hands. A hazy memory of staggering into the room and placing them there returned to me. I picked up the lighter using the window for balance and watched briefly the dancing silhouettes of rain on the plastic blinds.
"Blinds open," an unlit cigarette bounced in my lips and the blinds that obscured the glass along one length of the room flipped silently through the ninety degrees. It was still a few hours until dawn and at night Vekta City looked like a star-filled sky at ground level. Street lights beamed down far below my twentieth floor apartment and the odd light remained on in other buildings of varying heights. Some ships went by, hovering gently on the sodden night air and the beams of their headlights caused me short-lived, excruciating pain. All of this I saw through a raindrop filter, which cloned and distorted all spots of light before they passed through the glass. The only clear image was a semi-reflection of my bruised and weary face, made clear by the flame from my antique Zippo lighter for a fleeting moment. The room, sensing the smoke, opened a vent above the window and began quietly removing the fumes outside. I heard a ruffling of bed sheets behind me.
Without turning I asked, "How long have you been awake?"
"Since you made that ruckus coming back out the bathroom," she whispered, her siren tones seemed to draw me back to bed, "No kisses for you after that cigarette."
"Trust me, you wouldn't have wanted one before it either. Did I wake you, coming in?" I turned to see her knelt at the end of the bed. Sheets wrapped up around her that hid everything I had seen intimately before, her modesty did nothing but put my imagination into motion. A worried expression shot over her soft features as she saw the state of my hand and face. She beckoned me over with an outstretched arm, I left the cigarette hanging over the edge of the window sill and sheepishly dawdled over to her.
"You've been fighting again," she was not gentle in checking my hand, forced the fingers apart and flexed them to test for breaks, "At least there's no glass this time. And your face?"
"Baby, I'm fine," the tone you would give your nagging mother. Memories of the night came back to me, I had been out celebrating with some guys from the company when a Navy asshole mouthed off about the Air Cav never seeing combat. I opened my mouth to tell her this but she cut me off.
"I don't care how or why," she scolded me and my attempts to change her mood with soft petting of her slender shoulders only made things worse, "Don't even think about it. And get some sleep, you're seeing my father tomorrow. She lay back down and wrapped herself up with all of the sheets, facing outward and away from my half of the bed. I let my body go limp, floundered onto the mattress and purposely bounced her out of the comfortable position. I couldn't see but knew this had made her smile. We would go to bed angry, having said horrible things to each other, but I would always wake to find her arm around me again. That night would be no exception.
More of a prologue than a full chapter. The main character will be killed by the nuke during the course of Killzone2, I dunno setting myself a target of when to end it will probably make writing it a lot less of a chore - having the end in sight and all the rest of it. The plan is to cover the introduction of the 'Intruder' into the ISA and its use in the invasion of Helghan. Most of this I will be making up from scratch because GG seem to have given almost no information on its inception or use. I think I can remember only one glimpse of a pilot and that was so he could be stabbed in Killzone3. Anyway, I have a lot of ideas of where to go with this and I am trying something a little outside of my comfort zone by including a romantic angle with a girlfriend and his relationship with his father-in-law.
Second 'chapter' coming soon.