AN: And back to your regularly scheduled reading.

Disclaimer: Attack on Titan and Titanfall belong to their respective owners, Hajime Isayama and Respawn Entertainment. Otherwise an AoT and Titanfall DLC would be a real thing. For free. Right from the beginning.

Moving on.


Chapter 2: Arrival

"Ugh, this is MacAllan. Roll call and sitrep!"

As the shaken crew of the Red-Eye called off their names and the status of their assigned station one by one, they soon became aware of a blue and green planet that stood before the ship's reinforced, command window. As the data terminals came back online one-by-one, a few of the crew members would scurry to and fro to confirm the sight before them. But many, like the Captain, had stood where they were, still too stunned at the presence in front of them.

Blinking once and then twice, MacAllan spoke slowly.

"Sarah. Where the hell are we?"

Sarah had just finished looking at holographic screens that were displayed in front of her very eyes, each one practically telling her the same thing.

"Third planet from the sun. Orbited by a single moon. Twenty-four hour rotation. That's…that's Earth, Sol System" she said, her mind still not comprehending the fact that humanity's home planet was that much within reach.

And who could blame her? Before the advent of interstellar space travel, Earth was an overcrowded planet on the ground and in space. Massive megacities would make whole continents look like they were covered in spider-webs of metal and light. Several satellites, some that would range from military to civilian grade purposes, to others that were either functional or just salvaged husks of their original purpose, had practically swarmed Earth's orbit in an array of solar panels and steel. But every human being, no matter their origin from the Core Systems or the Frontier, had at least seen the original state of the planet, during the time when man's farthest reach in space was the moon. Blue, green, and with a touch of brown and white, Earth's previous state was still an iconic sight in humanity's memory.

Being from the Frontier, however, this brought up another problem for the crew of the Red-Eye. The Core System planets, like Earth, were the home bases to the mega-corporation, Hammond Engineering. Years of successful government contracts, planetary exploration, and explosive business growth led Hammond Engineering to own one of the largest private military corporations in humanity's history, bolstered with enough technology and weaponry to rival the militaries of Earth's nations. Namely, the said PMC was the Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation, current opposition of the Militia, and dedicated to its mission of extracting the profitable and vast resources of the Frontier…by any means necessary.

In other words, by being this close to Earth, the motley Militia crew was very far deep in enemy territory. Or so they thought.

A minute had passed when MacAllan realized the larger details about the planet. For one, this Earth's orbit was a clean state. No orbital defense stations, no repair docks, not even a single communications satellite was to be seen. Secondly, was the singular, eerie ambiance of the Red-Eye's systems. Usually if a ship was this far in Earth's orbit, it would have been bombarded by security inquiries by the planet's defense forces, usually questions that would involve the crews' identities, cargo, purpose, etc. There would also be the sheer amount of activity that would go to-and-fro from the planet. Military transports, civilian cruisers, and cargo freighters, life in Earth's space was never empty, let alone quiet. However, not a single static was heard over the speakers nor did another ship begin to appear in sight. Finally, there was the third and glaring detail of this planet appearance.

This Earth was clean.

As the surface rotated its gentle slowness under the crews' view, they were treated to the sight of a whole continent covered in a verdant green. A glimpse of a polar ice cap peeked in from under the white swirling clouds and the blue of the oceans that dominated the planet.

This was Earth alright, but it was an untouched, unsoiled, and seemingly, unoccupied Earth, a far cry from the interconnected and industrialized home world of mankind. Already, from one end of the Red-Eye to the other, soldiers, engineers, pilots and even a few refugees began to look out the nearest view port, curiosity overriding their apprehension. Soon, questions were whispered and some theories were raised but almost none dared to let their voice be heard, as if their volume would've destroyed the quiet peace.

MacAllan, always ever the man of action, was the first to move.

"Sarah, get Bish, the engineers, and any surveillance techies that you can find and bring them up here. I want to know what's going on."


"Oi, kid. No time to sleep, captain just put us on alert."

I woke with a clumsy start, pulling my head away from my braced arm that acted as my impromptu pillow. I regretted the sudden movement, for I began to feel the slight tightness in the side of my neck, thanks to me sleeping in such an uncomfortable position. Already feeling the pins-and-needles of the low circulation in my arm, I jumped off the crate that I had fallen asleep on, planning to stretch out my muscles to relieve myself of any annoying cricks.

Fully awake, I finally took notice of the man standing before me. He was wearing a green flight-suit not unlike mine, with a tan reconnaissance harness over it. A ghillie-covered helmet sat on top of his head, but the Cyclops goggles were raised and his balaclava lowered, revealing his salt-and-pepper bearded face. In his hands, he clutched an empty Kraber AP rifle, with tally marks scratched unto the stock and a nice layer of camouflage paint over the receiver.

By judging from the rough accent in his voice, I had already known the identity of the man before I saw him. It was Roger Bolton, fellow pilot and, currently, my mentor in all things that involved knowing how to kill anything way beyond spitting distance. Apparently my range scores involving any rifle that had a barrel longer than my arm had caught some attention and I was shuffled around pilot teams until they found one in need of spotter and a replacement sniper if needed. Roger, however, saw it as a sign that his time to retire was getting close, and as his last gift to the Militia, decided to leave "a git with a fifth of the skill and half of the brainpan" the first time he saw me. In response to that, I chose to point out that most guys close to retiring from war-fighting usually ended up dead before their last paycheck. He only grunted in agreement, but not before he punched me square in the (helmet's) face.

But over the years, I couldn't blame the codger from acting the way he was. As an immigrant from Australia, a veteran of the Titan Wars, several mercenary outfits, and a couple of off-world expeditions that would involve the hunting of alien mega-fauna that would eat poor colonists on a daily basis, Roger Bolton was a man that was half-tired and half-satisfied with how his life was going. At the end of the day, he was the kind the person that just wanted to get the job done and the paycheck, no matter how small or large.

Speaking of jobs…

"Pilots Bolton and Nguyen, please report to the bridge" came over the PA system.

"That's our queue. Let's get going lad."

"Right behind ya, old man."


By the time we got to the bridge, the Captain and mission specialists, Cheng "Bish" Lorck and Sarah were waiting for us. While these three were consider infamous, almost legendary, throughout the Militia brigades, us pilots had the responsibility of interacting with them on a daily basis. Besides MacAllan's obvious position as our new commander and his reputation as an IMC officer from the Titan Wars, Bish and Sarah were always the ones that gave us the finer details when it came to battlefield intel, whether it was past, current, or even upcoming. Considering the difficulty of such a role when it comes to micromanaging the statuses and commanding several Pilots scurrying around in loose formation on a chaotic warzone, they had more than deserved our respect a long time ago.

As we entered the bridge, Roger and I only noticed that we were the only Pilots on the bridge with several crewmen running to and fro, making repairs, exchanging info, and occasionally updating one of the commanders that were standing around the large holo-table that served as the main briefing and command tool. My eyes had spotted several screens showing different maps of a planet's terrain, ranging from local topography to thermal scans. What took the center of attention however, was the holographic representation of…

Earth.

Huh.

Guess the scuttlebutt I heard on the way was actually making sense this time.

"Pilots, glad to know you guys are still here" started MacAllan. He had just looked up from a recent text update on the table, but chose to stay postured over the table to help give him a better view at the incoming data.

"I don't know what the crew has been saying down there, but to put aside all possible doubts you two might have at the moment, that is indeed, Earth" he said as he pointed at the hologram, "Everything about this planet's features check out. Atmosphere, gravity, and all of the land masses fit it to a T. And no, it is not the Earth we know. Note the finer details of the fact that the surface is practically untouched and that we haven't made received any contact of any sort, it's safe to say that we are alone up here as of this moment."

Bish decided to step up to the table.

"Now we're still working on how the fuck we got here, but the thing is, we still don't know. After that randomized and risky jump," he said while giving MacAllan a pointed look, "we theorized it might have been our engines, but as far as we know, current engine designs are not capable enough to fling their passengers from the Frontier all the way back to Earth. I personally like to think we have traveled back in time and chances are scuttlebutt will probably think that we went into alternate dimensions…"

"But I for one," Sarah interrupted before he could elaborate, "personally don't care what the rumors are, but the main thing is that we are still floating in the dark here. Literally."

Bringing up a view screen of the Red-Eye's engines, we noted how the whole diagram was almost covered in error and damage reports.

"Our hasty escape from the IMC faculty put a lot strain on the engines. As of now we are running on minimal power, only enough to stay in orbit, and all our engineers are dedicated to its repair. Problem is that while we have plenty of fuel, I can thank you guys for that, we are still running low on raw materials for replacing the damaged parts. And the obvious question on why the Red-Eye decided to show up here of all places."

"And that's where you Pilots come in," MacAllan took over, "We got two things that we need, answers and supplies, both of which you guys can hopefully find when you get down there."

I raised my eyebrows and asked, "Just the two of us, sir?"

Although I had yet to remove my helmet (a common habit among us Titan pilots), MacAllan looked right into my eyes as if my glowing visor was non-existent. He lightly shook his head and his voice had a grimmer tone.

"We lost a lot of people back on that raid. Some of them were fellow Pilots too. At the very moment, you two are the only and best recon units we got on hand. Everyone else is either dead or sitting in the med-bay. And the Red-Eye's long range sensors and comms are out of commission. We only managed to get some local ground scans and thermal, but they ended up raising more questions than solving them. We need eyes on the ground and if we're going to do that, might as well be the ones that can do it quickly and quietly. Since you and Bolton are the fireteam's spotter and sniper, respectively, this mission will be right up your alley."

MacAllan leaned over the table and began enlarging one of the mini-maps.

"And, we got good news and bad news for your pilots. Good news is that we have a place for you two to start looking and, hopefully, folks to be asking" he said as he manipulated the map until the hologram brought up a bird's eye view of three very large, circular walls, each one covered by four 'bulges' in each direction. Inside each 'bulge' I noticed were clusters of tiny, but grouped rooftops, indicating the presence of civilization. The terrain elsewhere varied from forested areas to open fields with wide rivers and lakes. I also took a mental note that the bulges encircling the towns grew bigger as they got closer to center. A caste system perhaps? I only shook my head before I began to start spouting theories as a result due to my History Civilization classes from old college classes from days long past.

MacAllan continued on with the briefing.

"Thermal shows a lot of activity, not as much as the cities back home, but we suspect enough that there are people down in these areas. Still, try to minimize contact and blend in if possible. We don't want the locals to hogtie you pilots up and start burning you at the stake for being space warlocks or some such. If you guys do make nice though, remember to behave and bargain. If they want something that we can spare, don't give it for free. Try to get food, raw resources, information, whatever, we may have enough supplies to stay up here for a good bit, but the Red-Eye cannot afford to run on charity. We're stretched thin as it is. In other words, you two are going to be our ambassadors and traders if the need arises. You two may be soldiers, but both of you should be smart enough to pull something out of your hamster holes to placate them until we get down there ourselves."

"Sir, what would you want us to do if we run into the local authorities or even their military?" I asked.

"Same thing as the locals. Minimal contact but if they're anything like the IMC, shoot back and start hauling ass. If they ask nicely, only tell them the things we can afford to let them know. We're a few cards short and we're playing pretty close to the heart already as it is."

"So what's the bad news?" Roger spoke up for the first time during the briefing.

The captain nodded over at Sarah, and she proceeded to bring up a thermal scan of the zoomed-in map. The scan was predominantly grey, but splotches and dots of red and orange littered throughout. Sarah flicked the hologram to the center of the table where the image enlarged even more alongside the original image.

"The bad news is, according to these thermals, there's going to be a lot of unknown contact between the LZ and the target location" Sarah said as she began to point out the bigger blobs of heat that surrounded the rings. Most curiously, said blobs were also inside the area of outermost ring.

"We can't tell much from the scans, but we do know that whatever they are, they are big, mobile, and kicking off a lot of heat. These things are nowhere to be seen in the towns or the areas between the walls with the exception of the outermost ring. For all we know they may be just mutant cows that were just left out to pasture or the long-lost cousins of Godzilla. We don't know, but we will soon enough when you Pilots get down there. Still, I would keep my distance if I were you."

Sarah began to minimize all but one of the data screens, each one had already been reviewed for the briefing. She manipulated the map even further, showing a heavily forested area within the outermost ring-wall.

"This here will be where we'll being dropping off you pilots. There should be a lot of trees to provide cover, and if the thermals are right, minimal presence of the unknown heat signatures. You two are going in fast and low by dropship. Bring a full kit and everything you would need to find out about everything. No Titan support for the first couple hours or so, like MacAllan said, no need in scaring the locals or playing your aces too soon. Not to mention the Red-Eye won't be in the same position we are now. Engines are in repair, but it'll take a while to at least get back in sync over you guys during the mission."

"So we'll be cut off right from the beginning" Roger stated.

"Yeah, but we're not a fan of leaving our own guys hanging. If the data projections are right, we'll be able to get you a support window in a couple of hours after the mission begins. After that, though, we'll be only able to check in every few weeks, so your care packages will be a bit heavier than you guys are used to. In fact, I'll run some communication protocols on the way down. But for now, Bish you got the table. See you boys in the hangar."

And with that, Sarah left the bridge while MacAllan walked towards a group of engineers that had just arrived. Bish stepped forward and for the first time, we noticed the black duffle bag he had in hand. Dispersing the holograms, he almost but threw the bag unto the table, unzipping and relieving it of items. Some of the items, I recognized were stealth generators, but one looked like a skeletal headset with a small visor attached. The other item, was big as one's palm, and I recognized it as helmet module of some sort, spotting out the mount that would allow a user to clamp it to their headgear.

Bish went over the stealth generators first.

"Since we're going off the possibility that there are humans down there, I took some cloaking devices and tuned them up so they'll be near-invisible to the human eye. No need to modify the implants in your skin as long as you guys are still wearing your gear. You'll stick out like sore thumbs on Titan and drone optics but hopefully, that shouldn't be a problem here."

He then handed us each of the cylindrical devices, each one still pulsing a soft blue, indicating that they were on standby. Out of curiosity, Roger harnessed the generator, and after a minute, activated the device. Roger flickered out of sight until finally it looked like he had disappeared off the deck. The generator deactivated, and Roger reappeared on the other side of the table, nodding in approval of the modification.

Bish then proceeded to pick up the headset and handed the device to me.

"That there you holding is like an aural implant, but removable. Usually implants are easy to get, but unfortunately we don't have the time to get you to the med-bay for surgery, so I jury rigged one of MacAllan's old hearing aids and tweaked it up a bit…"

"It's not a hearing aid, Cheng!" protested the Captain from across the bridge, somehow miraculously hearing Bish from across the active room. Some of the crew and I chuckled and snickered but resumed back to work.

"Heheh. Anyway, the frame is small enough to wear securely under your helmet, and you can use it as a stand-in for your HUD and comms if your bucket gets wrecked. Unlike the standard implant though, the active radar pulses will last longer and recharge times won't take as long."

"This here is a personal alarm system. Your helmet will warble to you when anyone not marked as friendly gets a little close. Vektor rigged it to keep the rats out of the kitchen. Maybe you can put it to better use" Bish said as he picked up the battery sized module and handed it to Roger. He only nodded and grunted thanks before he mounted the device on the side of his helmet.

"Well that's all I got for you folks. Head down to armory and kit up. Mission begins in an hour."


I hefted the two-toned pistol, checking the sights, the safety, and the silencer. After everything checked out, I racked the slide to confirm that the weapon was indeed, loaded. The Smart Pistol Mk5 was a fine piece of kit, excellent in close-quarters and covert operations, thanks to its ability to lock onto enemy targets and firing guided, armor piercing rounds at close range. While it wasn't anything like my Wingman revolver, it was a nice gun to have in a pinch. Roger, of course, naturally detested it, often complaining that it took away the whole point of learning how to aim in the first place, but naturally as always, I ignored him in this case.

Only grabbing a pair of spare magazines, I tucked the pistol in a holster that was mounted to my combat harness. Basic rule of principle stated that it was best to place a sidearm in an area where it would be the fastest to draw, but the holster that sat at my thigh was already occupied with Terra. Terra was a customized B3 Wingman (or in this case, Wingwoman) revolver I owned before I had signed up with the Militia. Originally, it was a relic from the Titan Wars, lying rusting away at a local pawnshop, but after I had spared some time, money, and work into it, the weapon was a pleasure to shoot. Fitted with blacked-out, stippled hand-grips, a match trigger, and an 8-round cylinder, she had more than earned her name. Old, reliable, and hard to put down, the pistol was kinda like Earth. Ironic that this was probably the first time I would be using her on her namesake.

After scooping up a silenced R-101 Carbine rifle and slinging a compacted Sidewinder micro-missile launcher on the way out of the armory, I gave myself one final pat-down to check that my gear and weapons were squared away. Few bulkheads later, I was in the hangar, walking towards the Crow dropship that would be our ride down. Roger was already there first, sitting on the loading ramp, with his now-fully loaded Kraber Armor Piecing rifle in hand. He was currently tweaking the scope, rotating the dial then aiming the rifle at specific point on the ground, then back to fiddling the scope once more. As I got closer, he acknowledged my presence but not before he noticed the Smart Pistol that was sitting in my chest holster. He only shook his head in disappointment, long accepting that I was a lost cause, before he got up and finished the calibrating of his weapon.

We made our way into the dropship, noting how more empty the troop bay was. We were so use to riding on these things crammed full of fellow Pilots and troopers that it was so near haunting that the only occupants were me, the dropship pilot, Roger and Sarah. I could only empty my mind of any grief towards the losses we had sustained, for I had no time for such thoughts on a mission. There would be a time for mourning later.

The ship began to rise in the hangar bay as I yanked the lever that would seal the loading ramp from the dangers of space. I made my way besides Roger and instinctively grabbed one of the support handles that were bolted to the Crow's ceiling. It was there that Sarah began to review designated code words and phrases for our radio evac, emergency, need for reinforcements, etc. There was not much to go over, for by the time we were done, the dropship had already begun its jump sequence. One warping flash later, the darkness of space was replaced with the light blue of the Earth's sky.

None of us could resist looking out the window of the dropship, quickly taking in the seemingly untouched land that looked like it would go on for miles were it not for the walls that were off in the distance. Not to the mention the sight of nothing but pines that had suddenly covered the view of the window.

Huh. Were we landing on a large hill?

My eyes had all but sprang out of there sockets when I realized that we were still in the air and the reason why I saw the trees so quickly was because they were so fucking huge. Large enough that they would give architects that made skyscrapers on a daily basis pause. The branches on every tree were nearly as wide as the trunk, probably with enough strength to hold up several Ogre Titans without making as much as a creak.

We had flown on for minutes searching for a clearing, but with no luck. So instead, we had to settle for the long(er) way down. As the dropship began to set into hover mode, Sarah made way to the back of the dropship, pulling down the lever and opening the loading bay.

"Well, this is as close to the ground as we can for you boys," she yelled over the dropship's engines, "Remember, find and retrieve whatever intel and supplies we can get. We're all counting on you! Good luck! Go, go, go!"

Roger and I only exchanged a quick glance before we jumped out of the troop bay with a running start. The drop was only about two-hundred and some feet, a little bit more than us Pilots were used to, but that was what the jumpkit was for.

Flaring automatically to slow our descent, the thrusters that were mounted on the small of our backs were the descendants of the EVA gear used by mankind's early astronauts. While they were not jetpacks per say, they were still pretty damn close, allowing a user to clear buildings, scale walls, and traverse the most heavily urbanized areas with ease. Besides giving us access to a vertical dimension in combat, they were almost necessary in Titan warfare, whether it was taking on a hostile mech or boarding a friendly one. Once, I had overheard that Pilots were like angels of death, with their Titans being their sword and shield. If that was the case, then the jumpkit was the Pilot's wings.

We descended with barely the softest of landing, for the jumpkit could only decelerate a falling user at the minimal safe speed. Even then, it was quite the drop, for I had to tuck and roll to avoid the possibility of breaking something, even with my pilot augmentations. Roger only landed with his knees bent, automatically falling into a crouching position without making so much as a grunt.

Quickly raising our weapons, we wordlessly scanned the area around us, but all was silent in the forest of giant, coniferous trees. A quick minute had passed, then two, but after he finish surveying the dark trees with his scope, Roger gave me the hand signal that we were moving out.

The mission was finally on.


Data File – Burn Cards

After the end of the Titan Wars, several kid's toys and media material was created to profit off the "heroic" and "glorifying" points of the conflict. While obviously propaganda and considered a childish game, soldiers of all sorts have been known to collect the trading cards based off the war. Among Pilots, it is common tradition to burn the cards for luck, sometimes before and after a battle. The more superstitious of pilots have been known to burn certain cards (even in a middle of a battle) in hopes of getting a specific "luck" or "perk", whether it is something as simple like scoring a rare weapon from the quartermaster or something so extreme like bouncing back from the near dead. There are also unconfirmed reports that some Pilots have actually transformed into Spectre drones upon burning a card, but considering the state of the witness at that time (For more additional info, please see Dossier: Taube, Robert "Barker"), the reports will still remain unconfirmed.


AN: Might see a bit more of these of Data Files at the end of each chapter. They're more for trivia than anything else. And, yes, the Pilots more or less just got their "burn cards", except this time they actually get to keep them. However, I always thought the introduction of burn cards to the game was a bit silly, if not odd. In accordance to the data file, burn cards (as in, the actual cards) will not play a role in this story, since I see them more of a gameplay mechanic than anything else. Though the idea of having our Titan pilots play card games on mecha is tempting...