"Friend and Foe"
Exhausted from the battle, Alan slid against a battle-scarred wall to catch his breath. The Militia had been constantly pushing I.M.C. forces back one battle at a time and showed no signs of stopping, especially after Demeter. The man, panting for air, looked up to find his squadmate, Chris, look at him with a troubled expression that could be read even under his helmet. The two had been the last two of their squad up until this point and without replacement pilots available they were on their own. "Why do we keep fighting like this?" He asked, looking at the imaginary blood covering his hands.
"What," Alan panted, "Do you mean?" This kind of talk is what put pilots and grunts alike under watch as deserters have become more common after they were trapped on the frontier. Right now, he didn't like where this was going.
"I mean, seeing all the destruction we've caused. Makes you think, why are we fighting on this side? Meanwhile the Militia fights for their homes, a place we can't go back to anymore." He said, looking out to the distance where a battle was still raging on.
"Oh no." Alan responded, astonished at this kind of opportunistic attitude. "Don't do this, not like Vincent and Iori." He begged, shaking his head in hopes of trying to get through to him but it didn't seem to budge the other man's choice. "After all we've went through?" This seemed to hit a nerve in Chris.
"I held Rose in my arms while she bled to death on Victor, Roy died on Demeter, and the others?" He yelled, clenching his fists beside him. "I bet they had the right decision to leave this damn company. I thought you would at least understand that."
"Don't make me do this Chris," The tired pilot said in a defeated tone. "We've known each other for how long?"
"Long enough it seems." He said in disgust. Alan took his old Hammond P2011, the handgun that had served alongside him since training. He aimed it directly at the friend-turned-traitor. "You won't do it. I know you won't."
"You know me," Alan said light-heartedly trying to dissuade him, "'Anything to kill a Militia.'"
"But not a friend." The traitor retorted, "The battles already lost for the I.M.C. and I've requested an evac ship to pick you up but this is it. I hope we never have to meet on the battlefield, so uh, bye." He stated, throwing down his gear that had trackers in them. Before Alan could even utter another word, his former friend jumped down from the small building they were in and sprinted off into the distance, cloak making him almost vanish.
With his pistol still in the air, the lone pilot pulled the trigger at nothing hearing only a click of an empty chamber over and over again. He dropped his arm with an audible thud as it hit the stone ground beneath him. That was it, he was now the last one left of his once welcoming team from training. He remembers the days when he was always given a hard time- in a friendly way- for being the 'new guy' and now he was all that remained of them. How Riggs constantly sparred and taught hand to hand with him, Rose's kind words during troubled times that even extended to the grunts when they returned all alone, Roy's laidback attitude that often got him in trouble but alleviated much tension that ran on the ships, even Iori, who mainly kept to herself, would frequently tease those who had taken a fancy for her. 'It keeps them going.' She claimed but Alan, Roy, and a number of grunts believed she just did it for fun. They even made a few bets on who was going to be 'next on the menu'. The pilot smirked at the memory before remembering where he was. Alone on a world being overrun by the Militia.
It didn't take long before an I.M.C. dropship arrived at his location, a squad of grunts not wasting any time in picking Alan up and carrying him to the dropship even if the Pilot wasn't injured. He'd soon realize why as a pair of Titans had rushed to the scene to finish off the fleeing combatants. It was fortunate the armor and shielding technology of the I.M.C. was top of the line as the barrage of missiles and bullets would have ripped apart any other small vessel with ease. "We're taking off, hold on tight!" Yelled the Goblin's pilot as the dropship knocked its passengers to the floor with a tight turn. Seconds later they had made a jump into orbit and with a relieved sigh, the pilot began his course to the fleet.
"Good thing we were already enroute sir, that transmitter of yours was certainly a life saver." One of the grunts commented.
"Yeah," Alan lied, knowing it wasn't his that had been turned on, "It was." His former friend, always there to pick him up when things got too hot during battle, did so one last time to ensure his survival.
~ (-) ~
"So, he's gone too?" Vanessa said, taking a sip from her cup of coffee. It had been a few weeks since Alan had been left by himself. The Pilot hung his head low, "Hey at least you're alive and well, if Chris wasn't a friend then he would have let the Militia find and kill you so that counts for something right?"
"I suppose..." Alan said feeling a little better thanks to her talks and encouragements after every mission. Be it training or an actual battle she always was there when he returned. Roy would have loved to make a crack at him, calling the two 'A pair of reluctant birds' before laughing it off with a pat to the younger Pilot's back; especially when seeing the two of them alone together which only further added to the now painful memory.
Vanessa's fair skin and her white crew uniform was pure from the dirt, wear, and tear that Alan's armor had gone through. Sliding on the rough ground and being grazed in combination with constant deployment left more scars on it than it did its wearer, though he was grateful for it. Noticing this once more Alan asked remembering the words Chris said to him, "So why do you keep fighting for the I.M.C.? You're a talented officer-"
"Lieutenant," She interrupted, "I'm a Lieutenant. I don't do much else except manage my section and follow orders." There was a moment of silence, save Vanessa taking another sip of her drink with a slight smirk and the few personnel that wandered about the mess hall.
"As I was saying: what is it that keeps you here?"
"Well for one the pay is still good and two, you are still on this little boat of ours." The black-haired woman said confidently knowing the man would move on from the dangerous line of talk. Since becoming the last of his squad, Alan didn't have much to do as the fleet had been far from any habitable planet save manufacturing centers to pick up Specters and equipment. He would have tried to join other Pilots in their little competitions a deck above them but found solace in quiet places better suited for him. "Come on, I'm already done with my shift and it looks like you need something to take your mind off things." The woman claimed, getting up and finishing the last of her drink.
"Sim pod?"
"Sim pod." She echoed.
After arriving at the nearly abandoned room, Alan took a seat in a vacant pod. The pod registered his certification and after a few buttons and switches being pressed and flipped the door closed off the light of the outside world and left the Pilot in darkness. Seconds later green lights came to life and scanned his person before immersing him into a small arena surrounded by rather high walls and a number of small buildings in the center. There wasn't much time to admire the scenery again as the robotic announcer spoke again.
"Initiating program: Wave Defense. Combatants must defeat five waves of enemy forces to achieve victory. Training begins in ten." It said, counting down as Alan prepared himself.
"Just before you go on a murdering spree or whatever," Said Vanessa's voice through the Pilot's earpiece, "I want to wish you good luck."
"Aye, aye Lieutenant, I won't let you down."
"Training begin, wave one. Six enemy squads remaining."
Half a dozen Crow dropships jumped right above the arena, their troops rappelling down to the sandy surface with their sole objective being cannon fodder. Alan, with his pistol in hand, sprinted toward the unfortunate four that were in front of him. With four shots, two of the grunts collapsed into the sand, disintegrating into digital bits. Another was swept to the ground by the Pilot's leg who stopped the last grunt from shooting him by using his arm to push the R-101's barrel away from him. With a clean shot to the head, Alan had stolen the rifle and finished off the downed grunt with a burst of ammo. It was only four grunts on the first wave, Alan still had a long way to go.
"Five enemy squads remaining." Said the pod's A.I. The Pilot reloaded the weapons and checked his map, running off into the direction of the nearest enemies.
~ (-) ~
"Zero enemy squads and Titans remaining. Well done. Preparing for wave five, four Titans incoming. Enemy Titan's shields are online." The last wave was always tricky for Pilots, he and other veterans had completed it a number of times but even then, a lucky shot would ruin their run. Alan took shelter in a building as the four pods dropped down from the sky like meteors. He could hear the mechanical joints and limbs move about, patrolling the area for any sign of him. He called his own Titan, hearing it on its way as the training titans open fire on the falling pod to no effect. He expected to hear his mech crash into the ground- hopefully destroying an enemy- but no noise came, he couldn't even move his body.
"Warning, emergency shut down initiated by senior officer. Ejecting pilot from simulation." Said the A.I. Feeling a little jittery from both the adrenaline and sudden ejection from the pod, Alan saw the doors open to the same room bathed in a flashing red light. Grunts and other crew were running to their stations while Vanessa reached in to help him out.
"Vanessa, what's going on?" He asked, rubbing his head to alleviate the light headache.
"We've entered Kraken's orbit, Naga's under siege by the Militia." She waved down a passing pair of grunts, "You two, get him to the hangar." She looked at a still slightly pained Alan, "Sorry, I have to get to my station. Remember that promise!" She yelled before running off like the others. He reached out for her but didn't even get to say a word before she was gone.
"Come on sir, she'll be here!" One of the grunts holding him up said.
Sprinting across the ship wasn't the greatest thing the group had done but they had made it just before the first dropship had departed. Pilots and grunts filled the drop pods and ships in a frenzy to find a way down on the moon's surface. If a trained commander or even soldier from the core worlds were to see them right now they would almost certainly be shocked at the chaos and disorganization. The sudden scramble to aid the I.M.C. garrison below didn't make much room for precious time to be used planning but once the armed forces rallied and linked together they were quite effective even on their own. Majority of the battles before Demeter when the Militia were on their last breath was a testament to that.
"Pilot, over here!" Waved a grunt catching Alan's attention. Without many other choices- seeing as by now most of the dropships had already left and the pods were disappearing one by one- he ran over to him and joined them in the drop pod. With all the seats filled the pod's door sealed shut and prepared for drop.
"Are you serious?" Shouted another grunt over the noise of comm chatter and the ship's weapon fire, "You actually got a Pilot to join us grunts by waving him down?" The two other grunts couldn't help but snicker and laugh at their comrade's disbelief.
"Don't worry about him sir, he's got little hope left!" The man that waved him down joked, "We still got that bet going!"
"You'll go broke after this mission!"
"Not after you pay me!" Slowly the pod's window showed the vacuum of space and the massive gas giant that watched over the battle and its moons.
"I'll join in." Alan said.
"No way, you'll clean us out 'till next year!" Said the second grunt.
"Then only a tenth of my kills will count!" The Pilot cheered.
"Then you're on!" The three grunts said in unison.
'It keeps them going.' He heard Iori's voice say.
"Oh, I hate this part!" He barely heard one of them say as pod kicked them out of the ship and sending them into a freefall.
"Separation confirmed." Said the feminine voice it was known for, a gentle sound when one may die only seconds after landing if unlucky enough. The pod shook violently as it gave view of the battle in orbit, the gas giant of Kraken watching over its little moons and the even smaller humans that fought for them. At the edge of the bottom of the window, the desert moon fast approached them. "Standby, approaching shock layer." The already cramped interior began to warm up a little as the heat from reentry did its best to incinerate them, thankfully the protective shielding prevented such horrific deaths. "Impact in three, two, one, mark." The impact into the ground stunned the four of them four a moment before the pod hissed open to hot, dry air and lots of sand and rock. Why anyone would want to live in such a place was unknown to Alan but that didn't matter, he had a job to do: Kill the Militia.
A.N.: Welcome to this new frontier of potential! There isn't much around yet but it will grow as these things tend to do. Why do I write for a relatively small series? Because it's fun. That and I just enjoy the universe that much.
As always, enjoy!
~Firetoast312