"Predator and Prey"
In a flash the I.M.S. Miss Fortune finished its jump to its final destination of Typhon, its original home, but what the ship's Commander and bridge crew saw were the corpses of wrecked military vessels and fields of steel debris clouding their jump point. The Miss Fortune and her rag-tag group of rescuers feared they were far too late in their desperate attempt to defend Typhon from the destructive nature of the Militia. However, upon closer inspection of the dead, drifting hulls that the ships dodged and weaved through and around, it was apparent that these ships belonged to none other than the Militia forces themselves which turned shocked and disheartened expressions into sighs of relief, but not all was perfect.
"Ma'am, I've a completed on one of the wrecked carriers like you asked, bringing it on screen." A helmsman reported to Vanessa who stood at the forefront of the bridge with Alan with her- and of course there was his 'escort' of Spectres right behind him.
A digital schematic of the wreckage popped into view in front of both the Commander and Pilot, the former inspecting each open wound or twisted metal the carrier had shown off while the latter was lost in what to make of it. "M.C.S. Rickman, odd, none of her damage looks to be traditional combat." Vanessa noted mostly to herself with a finger and thumb on her chin as her mind ran through whatever scenario it could think of.
"'Traditional'?" Alan questioned, now more interested in inspecting his outdated helmet than the ship.
"Outside of surrounding an enemy vessel, standard doctrine would push for long range, concentrated fire, in turn leaning fewer breaches in the hulls, but generally larger in size and focused on one portion of the ship. This…" She turned to Alan with a finger tapping at the schematic in front of her, "This looks like it was caught in a 'web'. Weapon batteries destroyed by explosives- missiles most likely- and all around, the armor and internal structure is shredded, even a number of fighters and dropships are still trapped inside giving me the impression that they never got the chance to make it out."
"Isn't that a good thing?" Alan asked.
"It's strange. The bulk of our security detachment including us were deployed elsewhere. The handful of ships left to defend Typhon should not have the firepower of this scale nor do I recall our defensive capabilities being this potent." Vanessa stated, but after a few seconds of thinking to herself, Alan could see a sly grin on her lips. She must have reached some conclusion, but she wouldn't utter another word about it. "Someone, patch me through to ARES, notify them of our arrival. I want all available combat teams to be ready for deployment at a moment's notice." Vanessa ordered her crew, "Except you, Pilot, Alan, I want to wait until I know what to do with you." She finished
"Ma'am, Typhon is coming into view." Said another one of the crewmembers as the wreckage in front of them slowly drifted out of their sight. Typhon deep blues and vibrant greens still remained, but the world's beauty was surrounded by an orbital ring. Typhon's moon, Orthros, followed suit, showing that it had its heart ripped right out from its core with plenty of rock now circling the world in a newly created ring. Typhon did not have that feature when they left…
"My god…" Alan uttered in awe as he dropped his helmet and took in the view, "Did the Militia do this?" he asked, turning to Vanessa who didn't seem to flinch at the sight
"You go and resupply yourself Alan, let me make preparations. We'll need to make every last hour count." Vanessa said to him, "Take him." She ordered the Spectres who grabbed the Pilot and pulled him along.
"No need to be so forceful…" The man muttered to himself as he reached down to pick up and put on his helmet. The machines that accompanied him kept close as the sirens went off, telling the crew to prepare for possible combat, but unlike them, Alan would be sitting this one out for now from the looks of things.
To his surprise, it was less than an hour later before he was called up again. He had restocked on what he could, but there wasn't much to spare to begin with, only two frag grenades and a spare magazine for his Hammond. He would have taken something else, if there was something else to begin with. So far, it had just been 'Security Use Only' R-201s.
Alan was ordered to board one of the last Goblin Dropships available with his 'squad' for back up, but that would be all he would receive. "Mind telling me my mission before I'm deployed out in the middle of nowhere?" He said to Vanessa who was going to personally oversee all ground operations over troops she had command of, though there weren't too many of them left.
"To make things short: You're headed to the Reclamation Center for recon and information gathering." Vanessa said through his helmet's comm piece.
"That place? Christ, it reeks, and that's not to mention the deadly waste that can literally kill you in seconds." Alan said as the ship's door hissed shut, "So, what's the occasion?"
"You want the short version or the long version?" Vanessa asked a curious Alan. The ship's pilot meanwhile, made some confirmation about clearance before lifting the ship off the ground and slowly making a careful turn for a safe departure.
"Long, I've got time." Alan answered back, pulling a Volt from the clutches of one of the Spectres and inspecting it before it was swiftly taken back by a robotic hand.
"Well," She said slowly, "I may have accepted a contract offered to you on your behalf." Vanessa admitted.
"You… What!?" Alan exclaimed, surprising the pilot up front who told him to keep the chatter down. The least she could have done is forwarded the message to him, but of course she'd take the reins and drag him along with whatever scheme she had planned.
"Look either you accepted it, or I'd assign you to the mission anyways, the extra payment on top of your regular salary is just an added bonus." Vanessa gave the ultimatum, though once again, that was already decided for Alan without him even knowing up until now.
"I don't think you have the authority." Alan boldly returned.
"On the contrary, I think the General would be more than pleased to hear you accept this personal mission from him. I just happened to be the 'messenger' for you, but we're getting sidetracked and I digress." Vanessa began before moving on, "You have orders from the top: Investigate the lost garrison at the Reclamation Facility, apparently a Militia Pilot passed through there and practically wiped them all out singlehandedly. Specifically, you are to find evidence of who is the Militia Pilot responsible for annihilating our forces, hunt them, and kill them. You're going to be paid per objective by the way, so no need to rush through it just yet."
"Great." Alan said sarcastically and sighed. He wasn't any kind of special assassin nor executioner, yet once again he was going to be the one to fulfil this kind of mission. Wouldn't be the first time he had to do this, probably wouldn't be the last either.
"One more thing, you might be meeting with another Pilot, a mercenary contracted with the I.M.C., when you get there. Do play kindly, I know you don't particularly like those kinds of Pilots, but I'm not asking for your preference." The woman commanded as Alan let out another sigh. Now he just really missed the old days when the joke about him being on a leash and subservient to her was just that, but now it was all but literal. Wonderful.
"This one going to backstab us too?" Alan asked as he rolled his eyes under his helmet. He already knew the answer, but thinking back to a certain other two Pilots who willing broke their contract set a new low for his opinion on mercenaries.
"Hmm, no. These are Apex Predators; they'll follow it through to the end and I'm certain you're well acquainted already." Vanessa claimed while Alan scoffed. By now the Goblin had already jumped into the Typhon's atmosphere and zoomed over the battle worn facility. "The last know presence of your target was in the water treatment facility, Section K-28, direct access has been loss, so you'll be dropping in, have fun."
"Aye, Commander, over and out." Alan acknowledged as the doors pushed open and waited for the passengers to make their exit.
"This is as far as I can take you Pilot, my bird's a little big to lower and further!" The dropship pilot shouted over the rushing wind, "Good hunting!" He said as Alan pulled a cable out and threw it out the dropship's side.
Alan used a clip to secure himself, wrapped the cable around his arm one time, and, against his instincts telling him not to jump, the Pilot stepped off the safety of the ship and rappelled down into the middle of the three open air holes into the facility. Naturally, the Spectres didn't need such equipment and simply jumped down to land on their robust legs that easily broke their fall before they stood back up and readied themselves. Alan unhooked himself from the cable and tugged on it twice before it shot right back up and out of the facility.
The first thing Alan was met with was the smell of the sludge running under him, which to no surprise made his helmet send of a warning to its user about the material being quite deadly and 'a little' radioactive, and behind him was a pit straight into the liquid. Opposite of the pit, was a rather poorly maintained fence made up of four long and large cables with the ends having given out already. It appeared to be some kind of walkway with its own roof opening, though that term didn't seem to fit as it looked large enough to allow for vehicles and even Titans to traverse with relative ease.
Afterwards, he was immediately met by a familiar sight on the frontier: The remains of a battle that took place who knows how long ago. The bodies of I.M.C. security forces numbered in the dozens with bullet ridden remains of some new type of Spectres lying about with bullet casings and blood littering the concrete floor which itself showed signs of wear and tear. Taking the opportunity, Alan picked up an R-201 from a fallen I.M.C. grunt, took a pair of shuriken looking weapons, and three extra magazines after he reloaded a fresh clip into the rifle. Alan was curious about what new things the ARES Division had developed and deployed as a closer look at the new, fallen Spectres showed many differences from the ones that followed him around. These new models were taller, had heavier armor, and curiously they had what looked to be like a kind of battery or power source on its back, exposed for any enemy to take a shot at it. Alan nonchalantly walked toward one of the sealed door's control panel and began typing away at it, but nothing came up. "Commander, I'm at one of the service tunnel's gates, but it seems to be either out of sufficient power or locked down. You going to work some magic or am I going to have to find an alternate route?" Alan contacted Vanessa again as he looked for a possible panel or port to use a data knife. It'd certainly be a nice change of pace, but he knew deep down that it wouldn't be that simple.
"The systems took a major beating," Vanessa said after a long pause, "But there does seem to be an alternate route that might be a bit dangerous. Let me bring up some blueprints." She began, "Alright, is there any way you can jump across that pit? If you can get to the other side, then it's just a straight shot to Section K-28."
Alan carefully approached the railing and took a long look down into the dark and foreboding pit. He turned to either side of the pit to see if there was something that could help him get across, but on his left was an empty observation deck where staff would normally regulate the flow of the deadly sludge and monitor its treatment- if there was anyone here- but on his right was a single small pipe just mocking him. The large pipe didn't quite reach all the way across, but it did tease him by showing that he could make the jump with the aid of his jump kit, that the fence that was supposed to be in place was guarding against such feats had snapped and been made clear, but only if he were to take the chance and jump over certain death. Alan sighed as he chose to take the chance.
"No need to worry, Alan." He reassured himself as he walked on out onto the pipe, "It's just a simple wall run, over a pit of sludge that's radioactive." He finished. Worst case scenario he did have his grapple with him, but the drop ironically looked too shallow for him to use it in time. In either case, Alan looked back to the Spectres that watched over him, "Try to keep up?" He said, shaking his head before taking in the fact that he was trying to joke around with machines.
He readied himself, waiting a full three seconds to work up the courage to make the leap of faith. When he did, he ran his hand to keep his balance and grab onto something should he fail, not that there was something to grab on to, but it was simply what he and other Pilots were taught to do. He closed the gap as quick as he could then made another jump before rolling to a halt on the concrete surface below him and seconds later, the Spectres made one long jump over pit and landed next to him, outshining the Pilot. Fortunately, no one was here to see it.
Alan picked himself up and made the trek into the open hall where he spotted a badly charred chassis of what looked to be an Ion and a Spectre close by in a similar state. On the wall in front of him was a large 'K 27' with an arrow directing him to his left where he found yet more fallen Spectres at the foot of two wide slants that would have been where the toxic sludge flowed like a river, but evidently the treatment plant went offline as all that was left on the concrete slopes and walkway were red stains. It wasn't blood, though that might have been a better alternative. He crossed the dried up 'river' and headed up the stairs of a catwalk that was home to many more remains of Spectres, but this time there were the Militia bodies scattered around. A fight had taken place some time ago, but there didn't look to be the sign of a clear victor, though it should be obvious considering why Alan was here in the first place.
Alan walked over to investigate the cold bodies and their weapons, he hadn't seen them before with their new weapons and armor. The armor designs were a bit simple, much like most of the I.M.C.'s own forces on the planet, but out on the Frontier, it made sense: function over form was the go to most of the time, their bullpup weapons seemed to take inspiration from weapons of the past with parts of it appearing as if it were made of wood and the parts being put together haphazardly. A bit useless right now, it was empty and the Pilot had his own weapon, but he'd keep it in mind when dealing with Militia infantry carrying the thing. Tossing it aside, Alan continued up more stairs and past two bulkhead doors and yet more bodies. Maybe this is where they made their final stand? He went over to investigate again, looking more closely at the uniform this time to look for any identification and then he found it: '2nd MILITIA FUSILIERS', "Commander, I found a detachment of Militia here, all deceased, any intel on what happened? Over." Alan asked through comms.
"Only that they tried to make rendezvous and were wiped out by garrison forces, that's when your target came along and returned the favor."
"How'd they get on the planet in the first place. We saw the devastation in orbit, were there any ships that survived?"
"I'll look into to the possibilities of surviving ships, as for how they made it on the planet, one of the Militia carriers: The M.C.S. MacAllan, went down and most of her crew managed to escape before impact. That's also where our target Pilot in question seemed to originate from. Anyways, others might have had the same fate, but so far, we don't know any more details."
"Right, well careful up there then, I'm sure you'd be embarrassed to be ambushed around our own planet."
Vanessa chuckled, "Will do, Alan, over and out."
Alan walked up another set of stairs and was glad to find himself facing another sign: 'K 28'. But the deadly flow of sludge this time was still in operation. It was trickling, emptying the last of the material it had, but it was enough to make traversing it on foot a hazard. Not being deterred, Alan used his grapple to pull himself to the wall opposite of him and started another run with the aid of his jump kit. From that wall, he leaped to the other, and back again, slowly approaching bright daylight when he came across a narrow 'arena' as shown by the countless wrecks of Titans from smaller Stryders with I.M.C. Brutes torn apart to other Atlas Titans. The latter of which looked to be more aligned with the Militia, but one fat, Ogre stuck out. The box itself had a huge open blast door on the opposite end with pillars close to the center to hold up the roof and structure. Thermite struggled to stay lit, but now they only had a soft glow to them, chunks of rock and pebbles shot off from the surrounding structure were scattered just as much as the metal parts and Titans were, but Alan wasn't here to admire the view.
Since the remains of the Ogre, a Scorch, stood out the most, being the largest wreck of them all, Alan climbed aboard it's wreck where a hatch was open and inside was a mess of a man. Shoddy hair, a discolored eye, and a slight smell that was probably a bit of narcotics, and apparently a small, red and white patch of a skull with horns. To Alan's surprise, the body had on it an old Hammond 2011, just like his own. Alan half smiled at the chance to both take the gun for himself and the spare ammo that was left behind, the sidearm was rarely produced anymore since the newer models came into circulation, but the Pilot's scavenging was quickly cut short when the heavy footsteps of a Titan reached his ear. With little time to spare, Alan grabbed the dead Pilot's helmet and kept it on his side, hopefully it still was intact enough to give a full report on what happened here, but that would be for later. He called for the Spectres to find cover and ambush points themselves, though of course one would always stay with him 'just in case'.
Should he use his pulse blade to give him a location on the Titan? Maybe, but if he did, then that Titan would certainly know that he was around. Coming up with a quick plan to rodeo the incoming Titan, Alan climbed one of the pillars as high as he could while remaining out of sight and waited, he instructed the other Spectres to do the same and wait for his instruction.
Eventually, an Ion Titan sporting a red chassis and orange arms came into his sight and he made the jump for it. As he hitched a ride on the Titan, the mech was quick to take notice him and reach for him, but Alan slipped away, eventually climbing to the Titan's front where the Pilot inside could get a clear look at him. Alan did his best to try and hold the R-201 rifle at his hip and with one hand in order to take out the optics. Taking another risk, Alan pushed off the Titan with his foot which allowed him to then grab his weapon with both hands and properly aim, but in a flash, the Titan was gone and Alan simply fell to the ground with a grunt and rolled and groaned in pain.
"Hold your fire, Pilot," Said a woman with a light English accent, "None of us 'ere are Militia. Identify yourself and state your business."
"You first!" Alan managed to force out through his groan.
The Ion Titan appeared back into view and towered over Alan with a menacing shadow engulfing him, its Splitter Rifle now clutched in both of its hands, "I don't think you're in a position to make demands, love." She said, lowering her Titan to get a closer look at the Pilot on the ground before giving her own demand again, "Now, name and business."
Alan reluctantly went ahead and answered, recalling the Spectres to him as he caught his breath, "Alan Stassov of the I.M.S. Miss Fortune, responding to a distress call here on Typhon. I am here to investigate and track a target." He answered.
As the Ion dropped to one knee in a, the hatched of the Titan opened up and the woman inside stepped down to the ground, "Then we're after the same thing." She claimed, "Sloan, Apex Predators. I'm sure I've heard your name thrown around once or twice." She said, resting on one leg with a hand on her hip.
"You and everyone else on this Frontier," Alan grumbled as he got up, "I don't suppose this is one of yours then is it?" Alan asked as he took the helmet from his side and tossed it to the woman who caught it and looked it over.
"Blisk, this is Slone." She said over her own comm channel, "Kane and Ash are dead. Someone's been killing your mercs and it looks like one of our radios has been nicked," She reported as she looked at the side of the helmet, "I knew you shouldn't've hired those tossers." She finished, tossing the helmet aside in disgust.
"Damn, you're cold, weren't they part of your group?" Alan asked, surprised at how little the woman cared about her comrades.
"If they couldn't handle one Pilot, then they're better off dead. Besides, their pay goes right back to the rest of us." The mercenary admitted. She eyed Alan from head to toe as he dusted himself off, "That's some old equipment, Pilot, I don't suppose you served under Blisk then, eh?"
"For a time. Sergeant left not long after Demeter." Alan answered while both climbed aboard the Ion, Slone inside her Titan, Alan climbing the its arm and riding on top.
There was a small pause, "Bloody hell," Slone swore as she slammed a fist against the inside of her Titan, "Can no one do their job?" She yelled to herself, probably because of something she just heard over comms.
"Sounds like our queue." Alan said to her, before turning to his channel too, "Commander, permission to link with an additional channel? Over."
"What's the purpose, Alan?" Vanessa inquired. The Ion picked itself up and the hatch sealed shut before it turned and began its sprint back from where it came, Alan's Spectres were close behind and even jumping on board the Titan in an effort not to fall behind.
"To hunt, our target's trail has been found."
A.N.: This should make up the previous chapter in length!
As always, enjoy!
~Firetoast312
