"Operation Enclosing Walls"
Not a soul was told anything except for their area of operation, and no officer in the whole fleet spoke about the upcoming operation in whole. There were a number of questions, dissent and fear grew from the lack of information, and some even spoke out against being sent on a 'suicide mission' in the thickest parts of enemy territory, but they would follow orders through the muttering complaints and outspoken cries of protest. Fortunately, the veterans of the whole campaign had stayed quiet on the matter, likely already piecing together what they knew to get some idea of their superiors' thinking, but the heart of the problem came from the disgruntled recruits and new arrivals that had expected to have strategy spoon-fed to them.
'They do not need to know, only follow orders.' That's what Vanessa had told Alan. Whatever her reason to tell him, be it simple trust from their time together or some other, secretive plan that involved him, he wasn't too sure, but opted to believe in the former.
Damn the Militia and their honeysweet words of lies, they always swayed and seduced the hearts of the Frontier, they always shielded their deeds with talks of 'freedom'. He was tired of constantly thinking about it, but it always managed to sneak in through a tiny crack be it just the mention of the terrorist organization or when seeing it corrupt those who were willing to listen first hand.
Alan took a deep breath to clear his mind, think, and plan his next course of action while on his way to engineering. He needed to requisition his new equipment if it was available, train and find a way to compensate for the still mildly throbbing pain in his side, and he had to prepare himself and his comparatively cheap and weak Titan for an onslaught that could very well kill him.
Nothing new there.
The halls of the Miss Fortune were full of life with crew members preparing for the 'mystery op' given to them while announcements from junior officers dictated where the crews were supposed to be. Alan was rather surprised, but glad, to see the ship's personnel had not sat idly while he was out of action. There were fewer crewmen getting worked up and panicked at the thought of space warfare, orders and requests were repeated less often, and the paranoid engineers worked tirelessly to patch every single crack and scratch they could reach as if it would burst open and vent the whole interior; to their credit, that was not entirely impossible either.
The Pilot had received a few looks of shock from onlookers or they moved out of his way on his trek to check on his Titan. Alan attributed it to the fact that he was supposedly dead, but maybe they knew about him, either way it made the journey all the quicker as he eventually made his way into the Titan bay where he found it far more organized than when he left it. Spare parts, equipment, and tools were all neatly set aside to give generous room for the Titan housed within it and then some.
"P-Pilot- I mean, 'Sir'! We just received her last week, paints been worn down, rockets are restocked, and her internal structure has been hammered back into shape and repaired." Said an engineer joining Alan's side as he continued toward the aforementioned mech. "Is there anything else you need, sir?" The engineer asked.
"Give it another fresh coat, I want her to be presentable." Alan instructed. The place smelled of oil, grease, and a whole lot of sweat in part due to the hot, humid, stuffy air and of course the hard work and dedication of the engineers scrambling to get things fixed right away. Sparks flew as the engineers were welding and breaking apart salvaged scrap to be used elsewhere, the lights seemed like they were a dull orange, illuminating the place like it was a blacksmith's furnace, and finally, large cranes were being operated to hoist some of the large parts that were too either far too heavy or too large for simple work on the ground. The Pilot never could get used to place, nor would he want to…
"Aye, sir." The engineer then acknowledged before jogging off to do some other work.
Finally, Alan was left to see his Titan who looked down at him with its optics. "Welcome back, Pilot, I had begun to suspect you were lost." Evi said from her crouched position in what could be described as a 'storage rack'.
"You know, for an 'expendable' model, you seem rather talkative." Alan pointed out as he ordered her canopy to open up so he could pull himself inside.
"I am designed to give my designated Pilot a sense of companionship to the best of my programing. Statistics and research reports indicate a substantial increase in performance by- "
"Yeah, yeah, I get it. I figured the I.M.C. would do away with such programming after the first generation of Titans." Alan said. Speaking of outdated Titans, he has yet to meet with Evi's predecessor, Anya, but between being stuck on the surface and thrown into one live-combat or simulation scenario, there was simply no time. Anya wouldn't mind, she had survived plenty of encounters with her would-be destruction, protected him, fought with him, overcame countless overwhelming battles and now, hearing that she was being put to work as a glorified cargo loader was almost fitting, like an old veteran finally returning home from a war. Ironically, his old Titan went back to being what they were originally designed for: difficult labor, and Alan was more than welcoming of the change now that the 1st generation Titan models were a rarity. "Lock gyros for possible further maintenance and bring up everything the I.M.C. databanks have on the state of the Militia. Weapons, ships, battle history, mercenaries, even leadership if there anyone new. I want to know who our former, 'noble Vice Admiral', assigned to the surface below." Alan stated, thinking back to the Militia Pilot, Reidar, that had 'killed' him. That armor on both him and his Titan as black as coal, the dark maroon mesh and details, it was the same colors as the pirate gang leader he had killed back when they were still on the run. Surely this color scheme was nothing more than a coincidence, right? Either way, Alan needed to know who he was up against.
"Affirmative, Pilot. Pilot, my scans indicate a potentially problematic wound, in addition, I sense a rising sense of hostility. May I inquire?" She asked so innocently and politely.
"Negative." Alan was quick to deny. He'd be fine for the time being, the only thing he needed to watch out for was putting too much pressure on his still injured rib which didn't seem particularly difficult given the mission in front of him.
"As you wish, Pilot. Accessing files, now." She complied, bringing up file after file, from articles, to documented research. Home designed carriers, new rifles, even that curious 'Vanguard' Titan, the Militia wasn't just a stubborn little terrorist group anymore was it? It was a now an independent alliance dedicated to their hatred for the I.M.C. and the goal to push them out of the Frontier, but such an alliance, especially among these criminals, slavers, and worse, was fragile at best.
Sadly, Alan could not do anything significant alone, he knew that.
A headline mentioning 'Reidar' caught Alan's eye, so he pulled it to the front, "Reidar 'The Bear' Claussen claims another victory for the Frontier!'" Alan read the headline, "Evi, give me all the information about this man."
"Affirmative. Subject: Reidar Claussen. Date of birth: Unknown. Location of Birth: Unknown. History: Unknown. Last seen: Kraken System. Current Location: -"
"Bruvious IV." Alan interrupted.
"Updating." Evi said before continuing, "Status: This individual was known to be affiliated with a pirate gang that was dissolved following the operations of the Remnant fleet in the Kraken system. Currently, this individual is suspected to be either under the command or contracted by the Militia organization. Further information is unknown."
"Damn, it's never that simple is it?" Alan asked himself as he tossed aside the articles and documents about the Militia Pilot. Just then, he had an idea, Alan called over the engineer he had just talked to, "Actually," He began, "I do have an addition you could add if you have the time."
-(o)-
The alarms echoed throughout the halls, but the muffled ringing barely reached his ears from inside his Titan. He checked his equipment one last time to ensure he had what was available. He had a brand-new pulse blade to replace the one he lost, a pair of electric smokes with him, two full pistol clips were secured in the pouches on his chest, and of course there was his standard armor covering his whole torso, lower legs, shoulders, and obviously his helmet. Now that he thought about it, he hasn't really seen any new armor he heard the I.M.C. had rolled out for its new Pilots, but if was anything like these new Titans it was probably just a downgrade and simplification.
"Pilot, Commander has given the order for us to load into a drop pod, please do not try to exit this Titan." Evi said to her user, "Sealing Pilot."
It was one of the few times he had ever deployed with his Titan, never got comfortable with it but orders were orders.
"Welcome back to the land of the living, Alan." Naomi said over comms, "Just like before, I'll be keeping an eye from up here and offer tactical intel for you and the rest of your squad. Your current orders: Rendezvous with Strike Force 'Foxtrot' and hold a defensive line. Once you establish a landing zone, we will be able to deploy additional forces from 103rd and the 99th to give additional assistance."
"What's the intel looking like so far?" Alan asked, testing the woman in seeing if she was in on the full plan.
"The Militia appear to have broken through our lines and friendly forces are in desperate need for Titan support. Commander wants you and the rest of Foxtrot to stem the bleeding so additional forces can be deployed."
"Roger, over and out." Alan acknowledged before cutting the transmission. Apparently even she was in the dark about the wider picture. "Evi, play nice with the other Titans when we meet them would you?"
"I do not understand your meaning, Pilot."
"I know you don't. Prepare for Titanfall." Alan stated and chuckled to himself as he clenched the arms of his seat with all his strength and held his breath. Seconds later he heard a 'beep' and then he was slingshot down and out of the Miss Fortune and toward the burning surface below.
"Separation confirmed." Evi informed. For a few seconds, there was nothing but the rattling of the pod and Titan around him as well as the tingling feeling in Alan's gut from the freefall, "Stand by, approaching shock layer." She continued as the pod hit atmosphere. The pod around him grew hot and shook violently as the ground came closer and closer. The pod burst open and Alan could see the burning forests and scorched trees all around him, the smoke all but clouded the rest of the sky before Evi spoke again, "Impact in three, two, one, mark."
Alan and Evi crashed onto a road worn down from neglect and overuse, but below his Titans metal heels was a truck carrying crates of weapons and supplies. The Pilot's map told him he was not far from the rally point which was located at an occupied I.M.C. outpost in the east being used as a depot for Militia forces. He took in the scenery around him, the scattering and terrified Militia riflemen seeking cover, the transports and their escorts swiftly taken out by a rocket or two with the rest being crushed by his fist or foot, which left no one but infantry.
It was such a tragic sight, but nothing was sacred for the Militia. If the I.M.C. had it, if the I.M.C. owned it, if the I.M.C. supported it, the Militia wanted it to be destroyed. Seeing the please and cries of mother nature at this scale hit a string in Alan, he saw it from above, but being nearly engulfed in the fires? That was something new to him.
On the ground, a Militia Rifleman had tripped and dropped his weapon, but that was the least of his concern. He scrambled to crawl back as the silhouette of a Brute-Titan rose and towered over him. He was petrified at the mere sight of it. Through the glowing optics, through the Pilots helmet, the Rifleman could see the growing flames in the Pilot's eyes. He gave the Titan with a solid blue stripe down its center an empty look of defeat before closing his eyes, lying back in the dirt, and accepting his fate. Still, he prayed to be granted mercy from a bloody, messy, painful death. He thought maybe, if he prayed hard enough, his plea would be heard.
A.N.: -
As always, enjoy!
~Firetoast312
