The Brotherhood of Battle
Chapter Six – A Change of Heart
"If I'd known what he was planning, what Jake was going to do... I probably would've killed him then and there. Maybe not. But we'll never know now, will we?" - David Turner, IMC Pilot
"The rebels are falling back to the wreck of an old IMC carrier, the 'Odyssey'." Blisk announced to the Pilots in the drop-bay. "You're here to kill them before they escape, got that? This fight is what you were born for!"
Jake just ignored him, his eyes staring into the middle-distance. All the noise around him became just that – noise. He was hearing Hazard talking amongst themselves; but he wasn't listening. Even the high-pitched whine of the drop-ships engines seemed distant and akin to white noise, automatically blocked out by his inner debate.
All Jake could think about were those three colonists that were murdered in front of him, not even an hour ago. Their bodies were probably still lying there, just shy of the safety of the trees. If only Jake had been a little faster in defeating that Pilot on top of the tower, if only he'd escorted them out of the village with a little more haste – they might still be alive, and not mutilated and forgotten in a ditch, the luke-warm bodies and glassy eyes never to be used again.
He hadn't even known their names. That was the worst part.
To think that they once had a life all of their own. The old man he'd tried to save may have had a pretty long life already, but the woman and the child? All of their days were gone now, stolen by the bullets of a mercenary who lived for death and the profit that came from bringing misery to others.
"Snap out of it." Someone interrupted, cutting into Jake's thoughts.
Jake flinched visibly at the interruption, looking at whoever had snapped him away from his thoughts with a look of annoyance, though they wouldn't be able to see it through his opaque visor.
"Huh?" Jake blurted out, turning to see David standing next to him, helmet off. A concerned look was etched into his face, an unfamiliar sight that made Jake even more uneasy, if anything.
"Get your head in the game." David told him, his tone soft and his voice gentle. "I'm sorry about what happened with those villagers, but we've got a job to do."
"I'm fine." Jake lied, doing his best to ignore the stabs of shame and regret that lingered in him whenever he thought about the sudden execution.
Jake stayed quiet after that, letting his silence be filled with the hum of the engines and the chatter of the other Pilots in the dropship. He cast his gaze out the port-side window, staring at the other small ships that kept pace with theirs. As they had ascended the mountains to search for the Odyssey, the terrain had become more and more unforgiving. Sheer cliffs and mountainous peaks surrounded the dozen drop ships, flying in a tight and controlled formation. The craggy outcrops seemed to stretch towards them like malevolent fingers, desperate to catch a reckless pilot unaware.
Soon enough, the wreckage of a derelict IMC carrier became visible to the Pilots, and Jake looked as they circled the husk of the ship like vultures over a fresh carcass. It was derelict, with severe damage from an obvious crash-landing or other unfortunate circumstance.
A couple of minutes went by, the conversations died down and the whirring of the engines eclipsed any other noise. The clicking of weapons and gear was audible but dulled out by the spinning rotors and the sudden appearance of Graves and Spyglass on the shared IMC frequency.
"I am scanning the wreckage of the ship, registered as the 'Odyssey'. Reported lost to mutiny under your command, Vice-Admiral." Spyglass announced in his droning robotic voice.
"I'm well aware of the history of the ship, and I know who's responsible for its present condition. What I want to know is how it got here." Graves replied in a slightly annoyed voice.
Spyglass did not respond.
As the drop ships decelerated and began the descent towards the insertion point, Jake could make out a faded IMC paint-job on the dilapidated carrier, a name decorated on its starboard side in aged white paint.
'Odyssey'.
"It was only a matter of time..." Graves mumbled over the comms. Jake what confused about what he was referring to, and he shot David a look as the larger man slid on his helmet, his visor already polarised. "Pilots, get ready to move! Secure the site."
Moments later, the ramp at the rear end of the ship lowered, the Pilots inside the ship sprinting towards the edge of the slope. Suddenly, all the shame and anger that had been hanging over Jake like a shroud suddenly disappeared. Replaced by the inexplicable tranquillity of the knowledge that a battle was about to begin. It was a strange calm that washed over his mind, focusing Jake on one thing that he didn't expect to be dedicated to; staying with David, if only for a chance to say goodbye.
Before he deserted the IMC, forever.
VIIIIIV
The main IMC task force was fast approaching the Militia's fortifications on the Odyssey, and the few SRS Pilots that Sarah had been able to deploy before the IMC had arrived had successfully beaten back IMC scouting parties without too much trouble. A few Grunts had been taken away on stretchers for emergency evacuations, but so far, that was the worst thing to happen. Sarah knew that such fortune wouldn't last for long though, their luck wouldn't hold out for long, especially against qualified IMC Pilots.
The guerrilla tactics that the Militia used easily overwhelmed the small groups of Grunts that dared to approach the Odyssey ahead of the other attackers. But such strategies would be no match for the tidal wave of infantry and Pilots that would storm the area in less than two minutes.
All the while, Pilot Vladimir 'Vodnik' Zuyev had been co-ordinating fields of fire for the past few minutes, designating which areas troops should focus fire on once the IMC arrived in force. He had also asked that multiple barricades be set up inside the corridors of the Odyssey, and had blocked off the bridge completely so Macallan could obtain the information he needed from the ship's navigation systems. He didn't want a stray IMC Pilot finding access to the ex-IMC veteran before the fight was over – it would make for a short battle.
Sniper towers had been occupied by the marksmen they had on hand at such short notice. He was disappointed that one of his squad-members had been killed in the battle for the village. Their best shot had been killed by an IMC Pilot on top of the tower he'd been stationed on. Vodnik would mourn the loss of the sniper, but now wasn't the time for that. He had bigger things to worry about.
The other squad members under his command, Golsan and Spectre, had retreated from their duties eliminating IMC scout parties and were now by Vodnik's side - well, Spectre was. Golsan was busy setting up a carefully calculated defensive perimeter, ordering Grunts around the edge of the protective fortifications that shielded the Odyssey. Vodnik trusted the young Pilot to make the right decisions regarding the defence of the carrier, if his icy-cold approach to battle was anything to go by.
"Vlad, where's Sarah?" Desmond 'Spectre' Lockett asked him, breaking him from his tactical hypnosis.
The veteran Pilot trusted that she had been able to get to a safe location and evacuate before the oncoming IMC force had arrived.
"She'll be fine. It's us you need to focus on." Vodnik replied, thinking for a moment. "Here, take this." Vlad told him, as he handed Desmond his sidearm.
Desmond regarded the weapon for a moment, then looked at his squad leader in mild shock.
"Vodnik, I can't. This, it means so much to you." Spectre urged, pushing the weapon away from himself slightly.
Vlad looked down at the firearm. It was true, the gun meant a lot to him. It had been given to him by his wife as a present, before his life had been shattered only a few months later. In a way, it was one of the only things he had left of the woman he had loved.
Vodnik shook his head, shaking off the memory, he had to focus.
"I'm giving it to you, so you can give it back, got it?" Vladimir instructed the younger Pilot. Vodnik smiled reassuringly. "Plus, it has a pretty mean punch too – so, you know, that doesn't hurt either." Vlad chuckled, "Come on, get ready, they'll be here any minute." Vodnik instructed, his usual authoritative air returning to him.
Desmond nodded and polarised his visor, hiding his face from view. Almost reluctantly, he took the pistol from Vodnik's outstretched palm and strode away.
"Phoros, you ready?" Vladimir asked over his comm-link.
"I've done all I can. I've ordered our guys to set up criss-crossing fields of fire on the main entrances. It should send any Grunts that come in this way a clear message." Palmer 'Phoros' Golsan responded with a dry chuckle.
"Good thinking. Bish, what's the word on IMC forces?" He asked, changing the channel to contact the proficient hacker instead.
"Not long, boss. I'd advise you to position yourself where you can ambush some Pilots and make it easier on our boys down there. And hurry, they're almost here." Bish told in a commanding tone. Vodnik may have been the squad leader - and a Pilot - but he wasn't afraid to take orders from the technician or his team, they were his friends after all.
Vodnik didn't need to reply. Instead, a shot rang out somewhere far away from him, a bullet hitting the dirt near his right foot, kicking up a few pieces of soil. Knowing it was as much warning as he was going to get, Vodnik engaged his active camouflage, and sprinted over to a hidden sniper squat that was inhabited by two Grunts with long-rifles. They nodded to him with respect as the Pilot clambered to the top of the tower. Vodnik crouched down, taking position at his new vantage point, and got a good look at the opposition for the first time.
At least a hundred IMC infantry were approaching the ship. Dozens of Grunt squads were running full-tilt at the carrier, weapons raised and teeth bared.
They were being led by some Pilots, their armour making for a distinct figure amongst the riflemen that surrounded them. Vodnik already knew that these would be the vanguard of Pilots, the tip of the spear. More Pilots would be clambering along the sides of the Odyssey, looking for a way in. Further back, Vlad could make out the misshapen hunks of metal and death that were the IMC Titans. There seemed to be three in total, hanging back for now. His stomach dropped at the thought of the damage they could inflict, but they remained motionless for now.
Watching. Waiting.
But for what?
We'll cross that bridge when we come to it; Vodnik thought to himself.
"All personnel, hold fire until I say so." Vodnik commanded on the shared Militia frequency. Immediately, the fortification he was standing on fell quiet.
"Ready, aim…"
He watched, his courage unwavering, as the first surge of IMC soldiers drew nearer, the Pilots launching through the air on their jump-jets to disperse into the crowd of soldiers behind them to be used as a meat shield. The Grunts approached the Odyysey at a reckless pace; they'd be upon the Militia in seconds.
A foolish decision.
"…fire!" Vodnik commanded.
VIIIIIV
Tapley, captain of Hazard Squad, watched from the seat of his Titan as the mass of infantry continued their advance on the Odyssey. He was nervous, waiting like this. It didn't appeal to him, throwing all of the infantry in first, wasting the lives of Grunts just to make a dent in the Militia's defences. The second phase was to get the Pilots through to sew chaos behind the enemy frontlines. Once that was done, the Titans would move in to finish the Militia while they tried to recover from the disarray. It wasn't his plan, but he didn't have any choice but to go through with it.
He looked to his left, seeing the other two Titans standing with their arms crossed, without a care in the world for the battle that was unfolding before them. Blisk, in his personal Ogre Titan, equipped with what could only be described as an enormous belt-fed chain-gun strapped to its back. Apparently, it was the prototype model for a new batch of Titan's that the IMC were currently developing. Tapley had never seen it in action, but he imagined that it could easily eliminate an entire battalion with its beastly weaponry.
Next to Blisk's Titan, stood an Atlas. The Titan itself was quite unremarkable, a typical IMC paint-job adorning its chassis, but with yellow paint sprayed onto its arms. Tapley thought it made for quite a striking aesthetic. He didn't know the Pilot inside of it all that well, only a few minor details. Her name was Slone, one of Blisk's top lieutenant's in his own private mercenary organisation, the 'Apex Predators'. Apparently, she was as loose with her morality as Blisk, but she wasn't as reckless or cold towards the enemy as he was. While she certainly derived enjoyment from killing the Militia, to Tapley's knowledge, she didn't go around killing civilians, claiming them as collateral damage and target practice.
Regardless, the pair of mercenaries were watching the anarchy that was about to be unleashed in the carcass of the wreckage of the IMS Odyssey. Tapley hummed in mild disapproval as the first surge of IMC Grunts engaged the fortified Militia forces entrenched there.
VIIIIIV
Bullets flew in all directions, zipping through the air in malicious torrents like a tidal wave of death. The ammunition slammed into the bodies of dozens of Grunts on both sides of the battle as more and more soldiers fell with a resounding thud as the bullets slammed into them and they fell to the floor, dead.
Jake couldn't stop though. To stop was to die. If he could just keep moving, he'd be able to reach the Odyssey, and somewhere where he could take cover from the stream of death. Screams cried out all around him, shrapnel from grenades thumping into the soldiers and ground nearby.
So many bullets.
So many explosions.
So much death.
But he kept running, desperate to reach the relative safety of the Odyssey. Even if there were Militia in there, maybe he could avoid the worst of the fighting, and find shelter from the hail of bullets that rained down on him like an ominous rain.
The Pilot ducked behind a pile of scrap that jutted out of the ground, using it as cover. He felt bullets ricochet off the other side of the slab. Jake peeked out, letting out a volley of bullets at a group of Militia, the projectiles ripping through their limbs and felling them in moments. Their remains flopped to the ground, dead before they hit the ground, in most cases.
Jake fell back into the cover of the scrap metal, reloading his weapon, ready to dash out again at a moment's notice. A beat went by as Jake held his breath, waiting to hear any orders to press the assault. He looked to his fellow Pilot's as they all used their jump-jets and active camouflage to scale the Odyssey as fast as they could whilst remaining undetected. Ace waited with bated breath as the seconds ticked by.
Suddenly, another scream sounded out, then another. Soon, a chorus of high-pitched shouting rang out and an untamed roaring echoed down the battlefield towards him. Moments later, the IMC hordes began pouring out of cover towards the entrenched Militia. Dozens of squads ran past Jake's position towards the Odyssey, followed by a few other Pilots wielding their deadly weapons.
The first IMC squads were cut down almost instantly, but they broke through to the Militia's position within a minute. Grunts rushing into their site like a wave. Jake let off a harsh spew of lead from his weapon, downing a few of the Militia as he joined the charge. He hated to admit it, but he was shocked at how it was oddly satisfying how his enemies would perish with a small fountain of blood and gore spewing from the bullet holes.
Jake reloaded, ejecting the empty clip and slamming in another. He fired a couple of bursts before more gunfire joined his. Some IMC Grunts had taken cover next to him, a look of crazed bloodlust in their eyes. Jake should have been horrified at the show of primal desire, but found himself diving out of cover instead to join the charge again. He engaged his cloaking device and ran through a gap in the hull of the ship with the aid of his jump-kit.
The Militia returned fire, their weapons striking down the IMC as they tried to hold their ground against the rush of bodies and the surge of gunfire and explosions. The Militia Grunts took cover behind some rocks, popping out and taking pot-shots at the IMC who were doing the same.
Blisk watched it all with a level of satisfaction. Idiots dying in the name of something greater? They was no better prey to claim. He cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck joints before smiling cruelly and commanding the trio of Titans to move forward to punch through the Militia defences and kill as many units as they could find.
VIIIIV
Jake's efforts to infiltrate the derelict ship were rewarded with more fighting against Grunt squads inside the corridors and ruined hangar areas, but they caused him little trouble as he eliminated them one by one, fighting his way to the objective. His attempts to push through to another passage were cut off as another gunshot whizzed past his head, making him dive into cover and engage his opponents from around the corner of a corridor. Jake looked over to his HUD, watching carefully for any enemy flanking manoeuvres, and saw a small blip running towards him from behind.
Lincoln whipped around, only to be tackled to the ground by a Militia Pilot, his gun skittering across the floor to a dark corner of the hallway, far out of Jake's reach. He wrestled with the Pilot as his opponent tried to aim a pistol at Jake's head.
They scrapped and fought, and after a small while, Jake could feel his limbs burning from fatigue, but he did his best to fend off his attacker. Through their thrashing, the Pilot's pistol was flung away from him, and so the pair jostled with fists instead, thrashing and hitting each other on the ground, each trying and failing to get the upper hand.
But Jake's weariness quickly caught up to him, and soon the Militia Pilot's hands were wrapped around Ace's neck, stealing the air from his lungs, choking him to death. Lincoln gagged and tried to free himself from the iron grip of the stronger Pilot. Jake grasped desperately at the other Pilot's helmet, searching for something to deter the other Pilot with - better yet, something to free himself with. If only he could reach his Data-Knife, then he could free himself.
His fingers tried to pull the blade from its sheathe, but he couldn't reach, as the Militia Pilot had tackled him in a way that stopped him from being able to reach his waist correctly. Jake wanted to keep reaching anyway, but soon everything started to go black. The edges of his vision succumbing to darkness. Inky wisps swirling over his vision, blacking out the rest of the world. This was it, Jake realised, this was how it was going to end.
But Jake didn't want to die. Not yet.
But he couldn't do anything to stop the Militia Pilot now, and he felt his limbs begin to go limp, surrendering to his fate.
Then, a gunshot, booming around the room. The hands around Jake's throat went limp in an instant. The weight of the Militia Pilot falling against him, slack and lifeless.
Lincoln shoved the body of the Pilot to the side, and it flopped to the floor, wilted and unresponsive. Jake coughed and sputtered as his lungs tasted oxygen again after what had seemed like an eternity. He drew in desperate breaths as he looked up at the IMC Pilot who had saved his life.
David.
Jake recovered after a few moments and took the outstretched arm that Turner offered him, helping him stand. As Jake regained his footing, he nodded to the other Pilot in thanks.
"Cheers for that, mate." Ace thanked his mentor.
"No problem. No friend of mine is gonna go out that easy. Watch your back next time, alright?" David advised.
"Why not watch it for me? Stick together; it'll be a hell of a lot easier if we do this as a team." Jake offered.
David thought for a moment before nodding in agreement. Jake knew that David thought that Lincoln could handle himself, but Jake wanted to try and say goodbye to his mentor – and friend – before he deserted him forever. It was the least he owed him.
"Alright, Ace, stick together." David agreed. "Blisk, Tapley and Sloane have started their assault on the carrier. They're securing the entrance as we speak. If everything goes well for a few minutes, we'll have an opportunity to call down our own Titans, but until then, you and I have to make sure the Militia doesn't have anything up their sleeve." David summarised. "Got it?"
"I'll follow your lead." Jake replied, not exactly feeling excited to snuff out more Militia lives.
"That's what I like to hear. With any luck, we'll pin the last of the terrorists here, and finish this war for good." As he had been speaking, David had reclaimed Jake's CAR from down the hall. Throwing the weapon back to its owner, he nodded. "You ready?"
"As I'll ever be." Jake told him. David said nothing for a moment, and Jake suddenly wondered how he was going to abandon the one person who had been with him from the beginning of his training. The one person who believed in him.
Leaving this man was going to be one of the most difficult things Jake would ever have to do.
"Good, follow me, Ace." David instructed, taking off at a furious pace down the corridor. Exiting the shaft through the nearest window and out into the conflict around the ship.
VIIIIIV
"Sir, the defences are falling! We have to fall back!" A Grunt desperately begged over Vodnik's communication device in his helmet.
Vodnik grumbled with sour acknowledgement as he snapped the neck of another IMC soldier, gunning three more down before he engaged his cloak and retreated to cover, reloading his assault rifle.
"Chert poberi." Vlad swore as he ducked away from an explosion that was a little too close for comfort. "Bandit Squad, fall back." He ordered his men to retreat.
"What?" Golsan exclaimed in surprise. "I'm not going to just run, Vodnik."
Vladimir balled his hand into a fist, his pitch dropping to a more severe tone.
"We're not running, Phoros. It's a tactical retreat." Vlad corrected him. "That's an order, Pilot. Get out of there." He reaffirmed his authority over the younger Pilot. He didn't bother to wait for anybody else's reply, instead switching channels to communicate with Bish, Sarah and Macallan.
"Do you have what we need, old man?" Vodnik enquired as he peeked out of cover to see another squad of IMC Grunts advancing on his position. He dived out of his cover and let off a burst of ammunition in their direction, downing a few soldiers. He ran again, not waiting for the runts to retaliate.
"Just about." Macallan replied. "And don't call me 'old', I'm only a few years your senior."
"Whatever you say, Mack." Bish cut in, undoubtedly preparing evacuation shuttles as he spoke. "We're pulling out of the area. Vodnik, get as many men as you can to the extraction point. Have your squad buy them time to get out of there."
"Belay that, Vodnik." Sarah interrupted. "You and your squad need to get out of there. I can't lose any more Pilots."
"The Grunts aren't just an expendable asset you can throw away, Sarah!" Vlad replied, seeing marker on his HUD pop up for the extraction zone.
"Don't toss your morality at me, Vlad. Grunts are just soldiers that can be replaced; you know that." She retorted. "Pilots aren't assets the Militia can afford to lose. You're easily worth a hundred Grunts."
"This isn't the time for ruthless calculus, Commander." Vodnik angrily sputtered. "I left the IMC because they threw away lives like cannon-fodder. I'm getting as many men out as I can, Sarah. Discipline me all you want back on the ship!"
A moment of silence, on the other end of the line.
"We're having a talk about the chain-of-command when you get back, Captain." Sarah muttered angrily before she cut the line.
Vodnik sighed before he ordered the Militia to retreat to the evacuation point.
"I'm sending down as may shuttles as I can, Vodnik." Bish informed him. "ETA two minutes. Macallan; you'd better be on one those transports with the information you promised us, or Sarah's gonna be pissed."
"Don't worry, Bish, I plan to be." Macallan chuckled despite their difficult situation.
"Spectre, Golsan, lay explosive charges at the Odyssey's fuel tanks. Cover our escape."
"Roger that, sir." Spectre replied.
"Everyone else, fall back to the evac zone! Get ready for a hot-extraction!"
VIIIIIV
Jake dashed out of cover, bolting for a piece of metal that stuck out of the floor of the Odyssey's hangar that would act as sufficient cover, drawing the blasts of many Grunts to aim at him. Jake noticed that the Militia forces were falling back; running out of the Odyssey through a sizeable gap that could easily accommodate a Titan. He had just reached the cover when he received an alert that the Argonaut was ready to send down Spades.
Jake thanked whatever higher-being there was as he signalled for his Atlas, waiting for it to fall from the sky like a meteorite. It crashed through the ceiling of the hangar and slammed into the ground, bending and warping the metal floor beneath it. He didn't waste any time in clambering into the machine's cockpit, closing the hatch and sealing himself inside – safe from the small arms fire of the Militia Grunts.
"Welcome back, Lincoln. I kept the seat warm for you." Spades joked as Jake engaged the Vortex Shield, redirecting any caught ammunition back to wherever it had come from. Ace exhaled as he caught his breath, thankful for the Titan's wry sense of humour.
"Spades, I need you to record a message for me. Have it sent to David's private inbox in exactly four hours. Got that?"
"Of course, Pilot. Please document your message now." Spades announced. Jake blew out a long breath, wondering how he was going to say this.
After he finished recording the message; Ace looked over to David, who had followed Lincoln's example and had called down his own Titan. Turner was just climbing into his Ogre. Jake stood next to him, using his Vortex Shield to cover his mentor as he embarked the mech. Moments later, David began firing at the retreating Militia, downing at least a dozen before the ground around them seemed to shake.
"Warning, seismic activity detected. The Odyssey is falling apart; this unit recommends you get to cover." Spades warned his Pilot.
Jake didn't waste any time in directing the Atlas to rush forward towards the hole in the wall that he had spotted earlier. David followed him closely, and they erupted out the other side of the wall and into the harsh daylight. Jake stopped and turned his Titan to watch the Odyssey slowly crumble to ruin. The already decrepit ship slowly fell apart into a pile of scrap, barely distinguishable from a junkyard.
Further chaos was caused by several large explosions going off near the Odyssey's fuel supply, perhaps only a dozen metres from where the Atlas and Ogre were standing. Jake squinted his eyes a little to defend against the bright hues of orange and white. The boom reverberated around the pair of IMC Titans, and Jake could already feel a small ringing in his ears. The shockwave ripped through his Titan, and Jake struggled with the controls to keep the chassis upright. The shields took the brunt of the explosion, and Lincoln turned to see David's Ogre in the same rough condition he was in.
The silence that followed the detonations seemed to drown out the even previous deafening boom and rumbling of the explosion. Pieces of the Odyssey's hull were scattered in all directions, jutting out of the ground like malevolent shards of glass.
After a few long moments of waiting for the ringing in his ears to stop, and when the dust had finally settled, Jake looked around at his surroundings, scanning for a sign of other IMC of Militia forces. But all he saw was more devastation.
Large black scorch marks decorated the ground, and the scattered bodies of fallen IMC and Militia soldiers were dotted around the wreckage. The way they had emerged from was completely blocked off. They wouldn't be able to return easily, but that was fine with Jake, he didn't plan to go back to the IMC forces anyway. He knew it would take a little while for the IMC to reorganise and make their way through the scrap.
His eyes scanned his surroundings for any sign of life, but nothing stirred. Even the wind seemed motionless. The scattered pieces of the dead were strewn around with the rubble and the scorch marks from the detonation.
Then he saw it, two Pilots outfitted in Militia garb running away from the pair of IMC Titans. Perhaps they were the ones responsible for the detonations? Assuming the explosions hadn't been a side-effect of the Odyssey crumbling around them, they had to be retreating back to their extraction point for evacuation with the rest of their squad.
Jake knew in that moment that this would be his best chance to go with them, but David wouldn't just let him leave...
"Spades, execute protocol forty-two." Jake ordered, knowing exactly what he needed to do.
"Authorised. Transferring Operating System to removable hard-drive, stand-by." Spades announced, a small chip popping out of one of the ports in the console. Jake took the chip from the port, looking at it for a moment. This memory device held Spades' entire Operating System inside of it, copied directly from his internal system drives. Spades had basically cloned himself onto the chip. Jake slid the device into his breast pocket and zipped it up to make sure the chip was secure.
"Transferring full control of chassis to Pilot." Spades continued. "Is there anything else I can help you with, Pilot?"
Lincoln thought for a moment before nodding. "Activate the 'clean slate' program."
"This will wipe my Operating System from the IMC collective hard-drive, are you sure you wish to continue?"
"Very." Jake clarified, knowing he still had a complete copy of Spades in the chip.
"Very well, Pilot. It has been a pleasure." Spades told him before his Operating System wiped itself away.
Jake was alone now, except for David who stood next to him. The Ogre still recovering from their hasty escape from the crumbling Odyssey and subsequent explosions.
"I'm sorry, David." Jake said to himself before he raised his Titans fist and struck David's Ogre in the back of the leg, making the larger Titan collapse, just as it was getting to its feet.
"Jake, what the hell are you doing?!" Turner's voice cut in to his ear-piece as Jake raised his Atlas' fist again and tore away the plating to expose the core operation systems within David's Titan.
Jake didn't reply, only gritting his teeth as he shoved a hand inside the core, pulling out a handful of wires and other important nodes with it, rendering David's Titan immobile and paralysed. He kept clawing away, and eventually found what he was looking for; the manual disembark control. Jake input a quick command into his console to open his hatch, and he opened fire on the Ogre's innards, targeting the disembark control.
He didn't want to hurt David, and this damage to the Ogre was only superficial – parts that could easily be replaced once David had been recovered by his fellow IMC.
"Jake! Stop! What the fuck is wrong with you?!"
Jake blocked communications as he finished sabotaging David's Titan, quickly apologising and saying a prayer for his friend, hoping that Turner would find it in him to forgive Lincoln. Jake put in a few more commands into his Titan and re-sealed his hatch, taking off to follow the escaping Pilots. Jake cast a look back to Turner's Ogre, and could almost feel his angry stare as he ran after the evacuating Militia.
After a few tense moments of searching, he could make out the shape of the two Pilots about to board a dropship. He kept running for them, but the pilot of the shuttle must have seen him approaching, because the ship suddenly sped up its take-off manoeuvres as it slowly rose off the ground, only barely waiting for the two escaping Militia Pilots to board.
"Wait!" Jake shouted, knowing the Militia wouldn't be able to hear his cries.
It would be gone within seconds, and Jake would never reach it in time if he continued to run at the ship. The shuttle would be long gone by the time Jake reached it.
Only a hundred metres away - so close, yet so far.
Suddenly, Lincoln had a crazy idea. He'd heard of Pilots doing it before, but he couldn't be sure if it would work for him. Quickly inputting a few values like his weight and the distance to his target, Jake clambered out of his Titan as fast as possible, hopping into his Titan's outstretched palm, drawing in a deep breath.
Now or never.
The Atlas gripped Jake's body, drawing its arm back as far as it could go. Lincoln readied himself, and suddenly wondered if he'd just signed his own death warrant by ordering his Titan to do this. But he supposed he'd done that when he betrayed his friend only minutes ago.
The Atlas launched Jake forward, and Lincoln shot towards the departing shuttle like a rocket. Luckily for him, the hatch was still open and Jake landed rather ungracefully inside the Militia dropship. Within moments, every Pilot had a weapon aimed squarely at Jake's head, and Lincoln raised his arms in submission.
"Don't shoot! I surrender!" He spat out, removing his helmet and casting it aside so the Militia could tell he wasn't a threat. The hatch of the shuttle closed, and the ship sped away towards the atmosphere.
No one spoke for a long while, every weapon in the ship firmly trained on Jake. Eventually, one of the Militia Pilots lowered his gun and removed his own helmet, revealing piercing blue eyes and close-cropped brown hair that was showing the first signs of grey. A rough beard covered his sharp jaw, his eyes sunken and he had various scars over his face, though none of them caused him to look intimidating or ugly. When he spoke, his voice was rough, like sandpaper, and he pronounced his words with a barely concealed Russian accent.
"Who the hell are you?"
His eyes scanned Jake's face intently, as if looking for any suspicious movements or nervous twitches that would give him an excuse to kill Lincoln.
"Someone who doesn't want the IMC to win." Jake replied.
The man smiled in thinly-veiled amusement, then clicked his tongue. Another Pilot stepped forward and hit Jake's temple with the butt of his rifle, knocking him out instantly. Lincoln's last thought before the blow connected was one of guilt, partially for abandoning the IMC, but mostly for betraying David.
He was also relieved that the M-COR hadn't shot him on sight, which was nice too.
VIIIIIV
Hours later, after the Militia had escaped and the IMC had recovered David from the other side of the wreckage, Turner sat alone in a more private area of the IMS Argonaut, thinking to himself about how he hadn't seen it coming. Jake was rash and naive, but David knew he wasn't an idiot. He was left wondering why his trainee, his friend, had abandoned him – no, betrayed him. He was so concentrated on thinking about the treachery that he flinched when Hannah, his Titan OS, alerted him with a message.
An e-mail, sent to his personal inbox. It contained an audio file, from Jake. David was tempted to delete it immediately, but something stopped him. Anger flared up inside of him, but he held off his contempt and opened the attached file, letting the message play to him.
"Hello, David. By the time you're hearing this, I'll either be gone, or dead. If I did escape, then I'm sorry, but I can't stay with the IMC anymore. I didn't want to leave you, or Jackie, but I didn't see any other way." Jake's recorded voice blew out a shaky breath, like it was difficult to put into words how sorry he was. David didn't care, but he didn't pause the recording either. He wanted to hear it. He had to.
"Please understand, I never wanted to put you in this position, but I couldn't lie to myself anymore. What Blisk did to those villagers is unforgivable, and I can't just let it go. Label it whatever you want, but I call it 'murder'. And you know that I can't just stand by and condone the very action I would condemn. They'll call me a traitor, and a terrorist, or worse. Shit, you can hate me for the rest of your life, if you want, but I just wanted you to understand. Tell Roe goodbye for me, would you? And, hey, if my plan went wrong and I am dead, then I guess it doesn't matter." Jake's audio log chuckled a little, but his mirth quickly died. "Goodbye, David. I'm sorry."
The message ended.
David was left alone with his thoughts again. He replayed the message another six times before all of his suppressed again unleashed itself and he stood up, turned to the nearest wall and punched it so hard that it dented to metal slightly to the shape of his knuckles. He hand audibly cracked, and Turner had no doubt that he'd probably broken his hand, but he didn't give a shit. He punched the wall over and over again, teeth bared, nostrils flaring and angry tears running down his face. He screamed, his fury venting as he yelled at the top of his lungs.
After he had calmed down and he had reported the damage to the wall to a crew member, David went to the med-bay to get his hand treated. He told the nurse who wrapped a bandage around his hand that he'd gotten into a fist-fight with a Militia Pilot because it was easier than admitting the truth.
All he could think about was how truly disappointed he was. In himself, partly, but most of all in Jake.
VIIIIIV
Author's Notes:
Thais was a difficult chapter to write, which is why it took so long to update. I re-wrote it at least twice because I couldn't quite put Jake's desertion the way I wanted, but I'm happy with how it turned out. Sorry for the delay, I promise I'll be better next chapter!
Onto the replies!
Torheit:
Living the story! Banners of Hatred brought me here. Once I was caught up on that story I was reading through some of the other fanfictions, when I read the description to this one and wondered, "is that the same Ace?" Alas it was, and I'm loving his character even more now! You have a beautifully written story. Keep up the good work! Also, how closely are you working with Razzack in this? Having two different characters written by two different people with each character heading in their own direction and keeping everything straight with another author is pretty tough, I'd imagine. I'm curious, how do you do it?
Thanks so much! I'm glad you like the story so much. Razzack and I are actually good friends in real life, and we've had numerous hour-long chats about which direction we want the story to go in. We have the basic plot planned out (if you can call it that), but we're always coming up with new ideas to add in all the time. I'm having a great time writing my story parallel to his.
Mac Gustah:
You should know I have mad respect for what you're doing with this story. Not only is it engaging and well written, but the fact that you are working so closely with another author to create a story from both sides of the conflict shows that the both of you are incredibly dedicated. This was an awesome chapter! I can barely wait for the next one Then again, I still have a chapter of Banners of Hatred to look forward to.
Keep up the amazing work, and that goes for both of you
Cheers,
Mac Gustah
Thank you for such high praise, I almost feel like I don't deserve it. Seriously though, thank you. Your support means a lot to me. And like I said in my reply to Torheit, it doesn't really feel like work when it's fun to write. Having Razzack on this journey with me has made it a hundred times better, and I've come a long way as a writer thanks to his guidance.
Thanks for reading, everyone. See you on the Frontier.
