Four's Logbook
I've got the training. I've got the Titan. Now comes the final test- whether or not I've got the loyalty.
Despite having been rather neutral towards me since the link-session, I feel like my squad and Gates are still nervous about me, that they took one too many chances on an IMC deserter. I've overheard McFarlane discussing me with Tyra, worried that I'm just going to stab everyone in the back once I've got the opportunity.
They're wrong.
I gave Gates my word that I'd fight for the Militia, and I intend to follow through. But it goes deeper than that- she and Dimitri showed me exactly what the Interstellar Manufacturing Corporation really is; another company looking to make a profit, and they don't really care in regards to how they go about doing it. Those experiments they held, all those testing grounds- many of them were on civilians. Innocents.
Not every enemy rifleman or Pilot knows about that, I know. Many of them are probably just like me- just like how I was. But so long as they're fighting for the IMC, they're only ensuring that the cycle of tragedy and war continues.
My job is to stop that cycle. I wish there was another way, but I can't see one; either one side wins, or this conflict keeps raging on until all of us are dead.
I've got my first assignment as part of the infantry detail for an upcoming assault on the planet Tyche. The Militia has been carrying out Operation: Broadsword for the better part of two years now- wiping out IMC research facilities one by one, taking whatever data they can salvage from the sites, and weakening their grip on the frontier. This will be the first time KT and I will be in combat together- real combat, not just simulations.
I'm sure the others are wondering how I'll perform. Whether I'll do my best to revert the damage I've inadvertently caused over the years, or whether I'll crawl back to the IMC at the first opening I get.
The others hope I don't waste this chance they've given me. I don't think they realize that I'm hoping for the same thing.
"All squads report to their stations. All squads report to their stations. This is not a test."
Pilots and Riflemen scurried about the hangar of the frigate as the loudspeaker read out their orders. In the chaos, no one took notice of the lone Pilot in white armor amongst a sea of mottled green and brown.
Tobias jogged through the crowds, attempting to push through and make it to his shuttle on time. At his side, he held his helmet- cleaned for the most part, but still sporting a blackened scorch mark on the right side from the explosion of Shears' grenade on Nedar.
He'd scrubbed at it for hours, vigorously attempting to remove the dark stain contrasted against the white of the helmet. Eventually, he'd just had to accept that the burn was there to stay whether he liked it or not-
"Move aside, comin' through! Shove off already!"
He recognized that voice and hastily stepped aside as Gates waded through the crowd of soldiers and almost ran headfirst into him. Trailing behind her were three men, all clad in the signature grey and white armor of the 6-4. He recognized Dimitri next to the Captain, but the other two were a mystery to him- one was slightly shorter than Dimitri while the other easily towered over them all- he had to be over six and a half feet in his armor.
"Four!"
He turned to see that the Captain had noticed him and was walking over. The other three watched her for a moment before Dimitri flashed Tobias a quick grin in recognition, then turned to the other two and ordered, "Keep moving, you two! We've got a schedule to maintain, and we don't want to keep the IMC waiting!"
As they wandered off, Gates extended her hand to Tobias in greeting. He obliged, clasping hers warmly in his own. "Captain, it's good to see you."
"Likewise," she said, eyeing him up and down. "Haven't seen you since the link-session." She gestured behind her at the retreating backs of her comrades. "That's the rest of the 6-4. You already know Dimitri- I'll have to introduce you to Jax and Bear sometime."
"Bear certainly has a fitting name," he remarked dryly, thinking back to the man's massive stature.
Gates chuckled. "Yeah, he gets that a lot." She looked around at the blur of motion around them as other squads moved towards their objectives. "This your first assignment?"
"For the Militia at least, yes."
She gave him a small nod. "You know, it's funny- when I first met you, I thought you were just trying to save your own skin."
He shrugged nonchalantly. "It was a reasonable assessment."
She ignored him. "Yet, here you are; risking your life for a cause you don't believe in with people you've spent the last several years trying to kill."
The way she phrased it was unsettling him a bit. He shuffled his feet a bit, unsure of how to react. "What's your point?"
"Either you're one of the biggest fools on the frontier …" she trailed off, stepping closer to him all the while. Lifting one hand up, she extended a finger and placed it squarely on his chest. "… or you've got a better heart than most I've met."
The two of them stood there alone in the crowd, neither moving; she waited for him to respond, and he had no idea what to say.
Was this the same woman who'd taken him from Nedar? The one whose partner threatened to throw him out an airlock and the one who openly mocked and attempted to humiliate him for challenging her authority? Trying to reconcile the compliment she'd just given him along with her previous behavior was a task and a half.
Lifting his own hand up to hers, he gingerly removed her hand from his chest and cleared his throat. "Well, uh … statistically speaking, it's likely the former."
She laughed at that- the first genuine laugh he'd hear from her- and took a few steps backwards. "Why not both?" Turning around, she began to jog towards the rest of the 6-4 and called back, "See you on the ground, Four!"
He stood there absentmindedly for a moment, halfway raising his arm to wave goodbye and then lowering it again. Shaking his head from the toll inflicted upon his mind from trying to process the past minute, he turned back towards his objective and ran along with the others to his mission assignment.
He spotted a familiar looking group of Pilots standing amongst a few riflemen- one of which was a Simulacrum. He made his way over to them and waved to indicate his presence. Tyra noticed and pointed him out to Vale.
"Ah, here he is- our newest member," she called loudly as he approached. "Thought for a moment you'd ditched."
He shook his head and extended his hand to grasp hers in a firm shake. "Wouldn't have missed this for the world."
"That's the kind of spirit we like to see around here!" she chortled enthusiastically. Something on her left shoulder caught his eye- a patch with an insignia of skull impaled on a knife. A heart was emblazoned on the skull's forehead. Looking to Tyra and McFarlane, he noticed them wearing the same patch over their armor. Vale followed his gaze and realized what he was staring at.
"Oh, that reminds me- here," she said, tossing him something from one of her belt's pouches. Catching it, he looked to see that she'd given him one as well. It seemed like it was meant to be worn directly on his armor's pauldron.
"Thanks- but what does it mean?"
"Officially, our squad-designation is Foxtrot-Three," she explained whilst clapping a hand on his back and leading him into the drop-bay of the ship. "But other squads around here have taken to calling us 'the Heartless'. Figured we might as well roll with the nickname if we're gonna have it."
"Why 'heartless'?"
"Don't ask."
He was one-hundred percent going to ask.
Glanced around the interior of the ship, he recognized it as a Crow, the Militia's standard model of choice for inter-atmosphere infantry transport. Not as nice as the Goblin class he'd become accustomed to with the IMC, but still more than functional for their purposes.
"Keep on moving, shiny," McFarlane sneered. Tobias cocked his head to one side, unsure of what he was referring to.
"Ah, forgot about that- just a tradition," Tyra explained. "Rookies jump last, so you're closest to the Pilot."
"Why? Is it safer?" he asked in confusion.
"Not exactly- we'll be closer to the ramp which means that, assuming things go wrong, we get to jump out first." She shrugged with a smirk before pulling her helmet over her head. "Sorry, Four."
He sighed in resignation. "That sounds like my kinda luck, alright."
Moving to the back of the drop-bay, he watched as the Pilot checked comms with other squads. "Foxtrot-Three to Foxtrot-Seven; Han, old buddy, you read me?"
"Loud and clear, Kip. What's up?"
"I've finished the pre-flight inspection, I'm not picking up any discrepancies."
"Copy that. Wait for orders from hangar control."
Tobias glanced around the drop-bay at the occupants within; there were the Pilots he'd come to know as his squad-mates, and then there were the riflemen, more commonly nicknamed 'grunts' by the more elitist Pilots who saw them as no more than fodder. Having been a rifleman himself, he had more respect than disdain for the ground-limited soldiers.
"What are their names?" he muttered to Vale from behind her, motioning toward them- he wanted to know who he was fighting with. She shook her head.
"Bad question," she replied in a hushed tone. "Out here on the frontier, I've found it's best not to get to know others. Keeps you from forming too many attachments. Keeps you sane when you lose them."
"I think I'm starting to understand why you guys are called the Heartless," he grumbled. Feeling the need to hear a familiar voice, he tuned out the rabble and tapped into his neural link. It was a few seconds before he received a response.
… Pilot?
"Hey, KT," he murmured, trying to avoid being heard by the other occupants. "How are things on your end?"
[My pod's hull integrity has been verified. I am cleared for titanfall on your command.]
"You know that's not what I meant."
She hesitated with her reply. [I am apprehensive concerning our first time acting as a unit in live combat … yet eager to see the results.]
He nodded absentmindedly. "I know what you mean."
[You share these concerns?]
"I wouldn't really call them concerns," he said thoughtfully. "Sure, I'm nervous- I'd be inhuman if I wasn't. But like you told me, this whole bond between us relies on trust in the other to take care of us- and I know you've got my back." He finished with a smirk, hoping to instill more confidence in her than he actually felt.
[Protocol three: protect the Pilot.]
"That's right. I'll see you on the ground, KT."
[Affirmative.]
He felt her cut the connection, and he returned his attention to the bay door which began to swing upward from its ramp function into a closed position.
"All dropships, prepare to exit the hangar immediately following the jump!
Tobias could hear the voice of hangar control coming through the pilot's console. Like the other ships in the hangar, their door sealed shut and the Crow began to lift several meters off the ground in preparation for exiting the shields. The pilot flipped a few switches while the rest of them stood in the drop bay, listening.
"Initiating jump in five … four … three … two …"
Immediately, the stars outside the shields became blurred lines stretched back past the edge of the hangar doors. Feeling a jerk in the ship's movement, he looked around to see most of the group holding grips in the roof of the dropship- all except for Vale, who it seemed took her immortality a bit too much for granted. Considering how fond he was of his own body, he opted to hold onto the handles above. Only a few more seconds, and they'd exit warp-space-
Another jolt signaled the cessation of momentum, and the voice came back on the comms. "All dropships, you are cleared for takeoff! Go, go, go!"
The pilot pushed a lever forward, and the ship rocketed out of the hangar before making a wide arc and setting its sights on Tyche. It seemed as though the opening attack had been coordinated perfectly-
"-everywhere! I repeat, we've got IMC bogeys everywhere! No, look out! Contact-"
An explosion was heard over the comms before it swapped to radio static. As their view of Tyche widened and the nearer conflict became more apparent, Tobias was shocked to see fighters zipping through the void around the frigate and explosions occasionally blossoming against its shields.
"What the hell? How did they respond this fast?" Vale yelled to the pilot. They scrambled around, trying to maneuver the craft.
"It looks like they were waiting for us! Our op-center's communications must have been compromised- dammit!" Indeed, it looked like even more IMC ships were rising from the atmosphere of the blue planet below.
As Tobias looked out the viewports of the dropship, he couldn't help but notice the inversion of the situation. Those IMC ships had once been allies; yet here he was, flying in a tin-can of a Militia ship while his former comrades took potshots at them.
The Crow took a hard right to avoid a missile, and he was glad to be holding onto something. He could hear the pilot talking over the comms up front, "This is Foxtrot-Three! We've got multiple hostiles engaging us, I can't get them off our-"
A loud boom came from the right side of the ship, on the wing. "Foxtrot-Three is hit! Mayday, mayday, Foxtrot-Three is hit! We're going down!"
The dropship began to plummet further into the atmosphere below, unable to maintain its altitude any longer. He couldn't believe it- his first real assignment for the Militia, and he was going to die on the first day.
Another object struck the dropship and sent them spinning rapidly as it continued to fall. Now Tobias could hear the whistling of the air screaming alongside the hull of the Crow from multiple breaches in its structure.
"I can't hold her! Bail, bail!" the pilot shouted back to them over the noise. They grabbed an emergency release and yanked on it, immediately allowing the drop-bay door to fly open.
"What's a life on the frontier without a bit of excitement, huh?" Tyra cackled in front of Tobias. He always appreciated a good sense of humor, but he felt rather strongly that this was absolutely not the time to be making wisecracks.
Vale, Tyra, McFarlane, and the riflemen shakily ran forward to leap out as he followed close behind. Only the three Pilots made it out before a loud wrenching noise manifested in conjunction with an abrupt downward angle of the ship's nose. One of the soldiers made it out while two fell backwards behind Tobias and the other clung desperately to a flimsy handhold.
Tobias stood at the edge of the bay, looking back on the rifleman as he struggled to pull himself back up. He felt a momentary hesitation to act, a remnant of who he used to be- but his new moral perspective as influenced by KT won out.
"Hang on!" With the ground approaching fast, he reached over and shoved the man nearest out of the ship, watching as he successfully cleared the tail of the Crow. Two more to go. Leaping down to where they struggled to climb back out, he outstretched his hand and grabbed one of their own. He groaned in exertion as he pulled them up and towards the wall where they hastily began to climb towards the exit. As he began to lift the other one up as well, he thought to himself, I can't believe this is actually going to work. My luck never goes this well.
And then the ship tore itself in two.
There was no time to react, and nothing to process other than the sound of ripping metal and one of the rifleman's screams as he was sucked out into the open air. He found himself trapped, pinned against the pilot's seat as the centripetal force of their half of the ship was too much for him to overcome.
There were two terrifying seconds for him to wonder exactly how painful dying like this would be before something hard slammed into him, and everything went black.
