"Protocol 3: Protect the Pilot."
"¡Maldición! Just let me die!"
The words echoed in the foggy reaches of his memory. But the smell, the weightlessness, the feeling. It was all that was needed to bring that cursed day back. The day that started his downward spiral.
This is going to be a mistake.
He recalled that this Titan that he disliked so much, yet had no choice but to link with, had only one protocol. A rather strange one that didn't make a lot of sense, but at least it wasn't the three that he so heavily detested.
To link with the pilot, to uphold the mission, and to protect the pilot.
He mentally spat those protocols out of his mouth as if it was poison. He had already linked with the Monarch Titan, but only time will tell whether or not if not the first protocol was wiped completely. Either it would boot him from control, or he had just embarked on a slippery slope that could lead to the same situation on that asteroid over a year ago. And he wasn't too keen on a repeat.
He was brought out of his thoughts by the steadily slowing thump of the massive metal legs running through the forest. The two had been running for what felt like a couple of hours, and only now had they finally reached the outskirts of the small city. There had been no threat since their previous encounter with the mercs, so Will allowed some time for himself to get fully suited up in his pilot gear and to properly gather his bearings.
MIC's optics assessed the city layout from behind a collection of palm trees that rested on top of a large outcrop of rock and dirt. The port city itself was moderately humble, only boasting a few tall buildings. The rest of it were docks, hotels, or places to stay for a short time. Most of the people who came here were only tourists or travelers, making stops on their journeys or visiting their family, and since this was a paradise planet, the place was constantly busy.
Which made it perfect for their escape.
"Anything fishy you can see?" Will asked, the returning pilot also surveying the scene through the use of MIC's virtual windows.
"Not many asides from the ocean and a really nice looking sushi place down by Green Sea Square," the Titan responded, pointing at a glass building along the edges of a small park.
"You're...you're joking, right?"
"Those are the only two places I can perceive as fishy, Beachside."
"I meant suspicious, you dumb waste of metal," Will facepalmed. Though sushi doesn't sound too bad right about now.
The metal joints creaked as if it was an annoyed groan. "I'll add that under my shorthand language linguistics then," the Titan responded, sounding tired. "I shall reassess the parameters of my scans...searching...nothing appears to be out of the ordinary."
Will hummed a single note of relief. "Then we have a good first step. You keep scanning, I'll focus on getting us out of here."
"I suggest we find a medical center for your arm."
Will rolled his eyes and ignored the Titan's words. Instead, he urged the large metal legs down the hill. As they got closer to the first street into town, they could see that there was an old, run-down neighborhood just on the other side. A lot took up its center, and surprisingly, it was very active with people. Music rang across the lot as some were tuning vehicles, while others grilled snacks to munch on. Everybody else was simply chatting with each other or watching over the children that were playing street games.
It didn't last long, however, as the loud booms of the footsteps that Will was causing reverberated across the walls of homes and ricocheted back. Many of the people stopped what they were doing to perk their heads up, swishing around to look for the source of the noise.
"Isn't it rather strange to see something of my volume entering a populated area?"
"That doesn't matter," Will determined. "It's not like we're planning on staying. We just need to lose that gang."
"Wouldn't covering our tracks assist in this plan? Shouldn't we make ourselves scarce?"
"Again, doesn't matter. Once we get out of here it'll be a safe stretch from this planet," Will said, using the Titan's metal arms to clear out some of the thick palm trees that blocked their way. A few civilian eyes had caught attention to that from the other side of the road, and understandably enough, the sight of a battle-scarred Titan emerging from the foliage and coming close warranted caution, and they began to shift their feet backward.
Will could only imagine what they were thinking at that moment.
At least it'll give the town some gossip for the next couple of days.
"And why is that?" MIC asked after a small pause.
"¡Oh, las preguntas!" Will gasped as his thoughts were interrupted once again. He was getting very close to initiating a plan to rip out the machine's ability to speak.
"We're going to board a ship, my ship. It has stealth technology tuned to a satellite that'll allow us to leave the planet virtually undetected."
"I...see," MIC murmured. "I'll follow your lead then...pilot."
The word sent an annoying flash through Will's nerves, but he also perked at the seemingly skeptical tone in the Titan's voice. He couldn't recall if Titan A.I.'s could even make that kind of personal judgment. It made him wary.
"Don't sound so disappointed in me MIC, that's an order."
"Er...Yes, sir?"
"If we're going to find a way to retake my beach, I don't need you interrupting my focus by complaining the whole way."
"Retake? But I didn't—?"
"Ah, ah, ah!" Will stopped.
"All of this seems unreason—"
"Good God, what did I just say?!"
The silence rang as the Titan ceased their responses.
Finally, some quiet.
Will was beginning to wonder if his large outbursts were going to be the only thing to get the machine to shut up. If that was the case, he couldn't see either one of their voices lasting much longer. And he preferred that it wasn't going to be his.
A screwdriver would be mighty fine to rip out this thing's voicebox.
The legs continued to lurch forwards across the street. Now past the outskirts, the Titan was visible from every direction, not one pair of eyes was ignoring. Even a couple of kids nearby that were so engrossed in kicking a football around had ceased their game to watch the burned machine enter their side of town. It made Will uneasy. Chances were that the Captain of the gang and his bald, pain-in-the-ass associate had already made their way here and was waiting to wreak havoc on the place.
With that uneasy feeling tingling his spine, he summoned the map of the town in his mental computer, inspecting each street behind closed eyelids.
A route was laid out near instantaneously, but before he could move forward, a black and white checkered ball caught the corner of his reopened eyes. It rested along the Titan's foot, hardly big enough to even match the size of one of its 'toes.'
The children that were nearby looked on apprehensively from the ball to the large metal being.
Um...
Ever so carefully, Will motioned the Titan's foot forward to bounce the football back to the little kids. Instead, pitifully, it covered only about a quarter of the distance before it stopped.
Well, this is awkward.
One of the children's eyes lit up at the sight. They couldn't have been more than six or seven years old. Still, she had a smile plastered on her face as she ran out towards the ball, kicking it as hard as she could back to the black and magenta checkered Titan. The adults nearby looked on with bated breath, one of them even came forward, a hand reaching into one of their pockets.
And I really don't have time for this.
Softly, with a flex of his wrist, he gestured to the ball for the kid and left her to retrieve it. In his mind's eye, he could see the look of disappointment on her face as he turned his back. Also the breath of relief from the citizen who was coming to the child's aid with a hand in their pockets...Will believed that they had enough bullets for one day.
"She seemed nice," MIC said. "Why didn't you kick it back to her?"
Will groaned. "Because we're being hunted? That and I don't want to accidentally step on the poor kid. I have enough on my plate as it is."
"Should've kicked it back to her," MIC grumbled indignantly. "Wait, plate? Are you eating inside my cockpit, Beachside?"
¡Jesus Christos!
He didn't even bother to answer the Titan and kept on trudging along, wondering how he got stuck with a computer-brain child that sounded like a grown man.
The neighborhood blocks slowly phased into busy main streets. Which in turn had shifted from the low humble houses into the large hotels and skyscrapers that became outliers in the city skyline. There was a lot more cover for a Titan to hide, which was good for him, but also good for his enemies. It still scratched that itch of paranoia in the back of his spine.
The goal was to reach the city's docking airports, a place that was nothing more than a glorified parking lot for ships. But it was proving difficult as navigating a walking tank through busy crowds felt like fighting a viscous river upstream. Especially when some seemed stunned in their tracks, and others were too busy taking pictures and videos.
¿Nunca has visto un Titán antes? Move!
It was a large anxious weight off his shoulders once they finally managed to get past the crowds without any bloody sidewalk pancakes. They ducked into the backstreets somewhere near the ports, and from there, it was surprisingly smooth sailing to the entrance.
The port was hardly any different from a typical parking lot, the only main difference being a small runway that ran its length for the ships that needed it. As well as the obligatory security gate. Upon its arrival, a man in a uniform sat inside a guard shack with his feet up, reading from a tablet and drinking from a bottle in between people coming and going.
He seemed relaxed, that is, up until MIC crouched down next to the window, raising a sudden roar of machinery that caused him to jump in his seat and nearly drop both his drink and tablet. Will didn't even allow him to gather his bearings before he opened the cockpit door with a screech.
"Excuse me, sir! I'm making a departure request for spot D-12?"
"Good lordy!" Exclaimed the man, recollecting his shocked senses. He oriented himself upright and set down his drink, his eyes not once leaving the Titan. "I-I'm s-sorry, sir?" He stammered, clearly off guard. "What did you say?"
"I said I'd like to depart. The ship is in spot D-12."
"D-d-do you—I mean, to depart y-you—have your papers, sir?"
"Do you accept digital copies?"
"Um, y-yes, I t-think we do, sir," he said, still nervous as he shifted his shaky eyes down to his tablet. "I'll get it set up."
Will flipped out an antenna that was attached to the back of his helmet, linking its systems to his mental computer. He scanned for a connection behind closed eyes.
Before the man could say a word, he had sent the copy over to his tablet once the connection was open and established. The man coked his head back in surprise.
"That was quick..."
"Well, I am in a bit of a rush."
"I-I-I see! O-of course, sir! I won't keep you any l-longer!"
The man made an awkward salute and raised the barrier gates, waving him on through, the other guards stepping out of the way.
"Enjoy your day, pilot, s-sir!"
"You enjoy your day, as well!" MIC said as Will moved its legs onward, eliciting a snort of disapproval out of him as he closed the hatch.
"O-oh! To you as well Titan!"
"Call me Mick!"
"Very well, Mick!"
Will quickened the pace with an annoyed groan, passing by the walls of various ship models on either side. "We really don't have the time to chat with strangers, y'know."
"I'm just being friendly," MIC responded, a rebellious tone evident in its speakers.
This little—
"What did I say about interrupting my focus?!" Will snapped. His nostrils flared out. Another lingering silence ensued. The quiet was deafening as they trudged forward, this time it was more poisonous, more hostile than the first. The hateful tension rolled off his shoulders and suffocated the cockpit.
He wondered what the Titan had thought. He sniffed and twitched his nose.
To think I could've still been building my house and sleeping in...I just...I just need to calm down. After I come back and kill those assholes, then I can get this damned link scrubbed and go back to living life alone.
Not long after, the two greeted Will's ship that was parked neatly among the others. The design of it was similar to that of the Crow drop ships that the Militia primarily used, except his was slightly larger. The ship's size seemed to toe the line between being an average drop ship and being considered a corvette. Although it had the firepower, its size was hardly large enough to even hold a singular titan. It wasn't ideal, but it was all they had, and Will wasn't going to find himself complaining about the comfort of the ship on behalf of MIC.
He used the Monarch's massive metal arms to open the side of the ship, also using his own arms of flesh and blood to find the release lever somewhere up inside MIC's hull.
"Hop in," he said coldly, feeling a familiar rush of air flowing past his helmet as the cockpit door opened.
The Titan did as instructed and lowered itself to cramp inside.
"Beachside, what exactly is the pl—?"
BOOM.
The noise was followed by a crash, and the whole ship shook from the impact of whatever hit them. The force of it threatened to throw Will out of his seat and onto the asphalt. His ears rang painfully and he struggled to retain focus. A chorus of alarms rained down and he could barely understand the synthetic voice that spoke to him.
"What?!" He shouted.
"We have been hit by a plasma railgun," MIC said again. "This suggests that the gang has caught up."
"¡No mamés!" Will spouted. It's gotta be that Captain.
He had to think quickly. One lucky hit could ground them, and without a Titan weapon, there would be no reasonable way to defend against the Northstar.
"Get me to the cockpit!"
As if reading his mind, MIC already had its hand clasped around his torso and lifted him out from one pilot's seat to the doorway of another. Will extended his hand out to the knob but got thrown aside as the ship suffered another hit. He cursed his luck when he landed hard on his burned arm, shooting pain up to his elbow. Wasting no time, he forced himself back up onto his feet and threw the door open with both hands. His mind chattered nothing but curses as he made his way to the pilot's seat and buckled himself in.
Strangely, the ship didn't seem to have much when it came to controls, given the mostly empty console in front of him. It was smooth, with only a few buttons. He pressed two of these buttons rapidly, one that ignited the ship's engines, and another that raised the systems. Will connected to the systems through his mental computer, thinking out the codes that allowed him total access to the controls. He threw up the shields in a wild frenzy, the same almost being said for his lunch.
The shields were activated just in time, too, as another shot by the railgun hit the ship broadside. The impact was softened, but it still made Will jump in his seat.
"Get inside!" He shouted at MIC, who was already clambering through the bay door. The Monarch shifted loosely around to get a better view of their attacker.
"Uh, Beachside? We have an incoming Scorch."
Will's eyebrows furrowed in fury.
Pyrite! That sonnova—!
He jumped in his seat as a blaze of orange plasma scattered across the window, shaking him violently and causing him to curse loudly. He regained his focus and kicked the ship's controls to lift off. It lurched loudly and was painfully slow.
"We will not make it!" MIC shouted matter-of-factly. "Engagement is inevitable!"
An idea had manifested itself in Will's mind, causing his mouth to curl at the corner. Instead of getting more distance from the ground, he turned sideways, getting a front-facing view of their oncoming attackers. The Scorch barrelled towards them, while the Northstar kept their distance from across the docks.
With the ship's systems now directly connected to his mind, Will could feel every inch of metal around him. He could feel himself rotating the barrels of the guns that protruded from either side of the cockpit. He could smell the gunpowder begging to be burned within them. It was like an extension to his body.
It was somewhat similar to that of a Titan link, except with this, he had total control. He wouldn't have to worry about another Titan whispering in the back of his head.
Speaking of Titans.
Pyrite's Scorch had gotten into range and the guns have fully spun up. There was a clear lock. He fully smiled now.
"You see MIC," he called back smugly, ready to demonstrate some organic superiority. "Machines lack creativity!"
With those words, somewhere, Will's mind had ticked. So with a burning vengeance, he unleashed hundreds upon hundreds of rounds of lead into the black and gold Titan, chewing away at its paint and hull. He relished at the sight of metal shavings and sparks flying in every direction.
Eat this, hijo de puta.
The Scorch raised their arms to brace against the rainstorm of bullets and kept moving forward, and much faster. Will's smile faded and was replaced with a grimace.
Forgot how tanky these freaking things were.
Will attempted to focus harder as if it would make the guns shoot faster. But his accuracy was thrown off wildly as the Northstar took another shot at him.
"Shit!"
In the fight to realign his target, the Scorch had taken both hands and grabbed each side of the cockpit, dropping down to its knees to anchor it to the ground. Will's breath was caught in his throat when he came face-to-optics with the enemy Titan, with only a wall of glass in between them. Still didn't stop him from being pissed, though.
"Hey there pilot," Pyrite said breathlessly. "Didja miss me?"
"Wish I hadn't the first time!" Will seethed, teeth nearly chattering with the response.
"Ooh, that's funny," the mercenary mocked with a chuckle. "But the show's over. You got my file for me, right?"
"Maybe, if you would enlighten on what damned file."
"Hardly har har."
The conversation was interrupted when a thud of metal on metal suddenly sounded. A fist had entered into Will's line of sight and crashed into the Scorch's cockpit hatch, followed by the rest of MIC's chassis. Pyrite grunted and lost his grip on the ship, allowing Will to hover away freely. He dared a gasp of relief and maintained a safe distance.
"Pardon me if I don't understand what's so amusing," MIC said after the first strike. They were already winding up another blow upon the Scorch's hatch, bringing it down with as much force as they could muster.
Pyrite caught it.
"You!" He hissed from underneath MIC's fist. Metal bent and croaked as his grasp tightened, threatening to crush the Monarch's hand. "You are getting on my nerves!"
"Likewise," MIC responded with a pained groan. The Monarch attempted to yank their hand away, only to bring the enemy Titan back up onto their feet. Quickly thinking, MIC followed up with a thunderous kick to the Scorch's midsection, driving them into the ground flat-backed. The power of it made Pyrite lose his grip entirely.
Will spectated with smug satisfaction, excited to see the mercenary get what was coming to him. That was up until a blast of plasma crashed into MIC, showering the ground in orange sparks. The Monarch dropped to one knee to compensate for the power of the blast. Machinery whined. Then another clash of metal echoed throughout the landing field as Pyrite brought his Scorch's foot up and kicked Will's Titan square in the optics. Glass shards flew.
"MIC!"
Pyrite was up instantly as his opponent fell onto their back, summoning a thermal shield from within his palm. A sick chuckle came from the mercenary as the ring of fire erupted, encroaching closer on the Monarch's position, threatening to melt MIC into a metallic puddle on the ground.
Will left no room for hesitation and fired the chain guns once more upon the Scorch, taking the heat off of his Titan, literally.
"Get on!" He spat as Pyrite shifted his focus back on him.
MIC's clunky chassis rolled, narrowly missing another railgun shot that burst the asphalt underneath him. The impact, however, still had enough power to shove the Titan over and wack the ship's hull.
Will winced but kept his mouth shut. He again fought to realign his aiming reticle on the enemy, ready to spew more bullets just after they raised their thermal shield once more. Pyrite spat curses nonstop as the rounds were melted in his hand.
C'mon MIC, I don't have nearly enough ammo for this.
Some echoing thuds and an increase to the ship's mass had told Will that MIC had finally boarded.
"Lock that bay door!" Will yelled as he kept pouring it on the mercenary.
"Understood."
The ship was already lifting higher and higher, just barely out of Pyrite's reach. The mercenary continued to let loose a bloody scream intermixed with all the curses and profanities that mankind could make up as the ship got higher and higher over his head. It wasn't until MIC had finally sealed the door that Will punched up the speed, slowly leaving the docks behind them. The frame of the Scorch shrinking behind them.
Now let's get the hell away from here. Will thought angrily, which was balanced by a relieved sigh. He continued taking deep breaths in an attempt to relax his nerves. His shaking made it difficult to fly the ship straight.
I never want to see that damned prick ever again. Better yet, I want to see him dead in a ditch.
"Where are we going, exactly?" MIC asked from the bay.
Will inhaled deeply. "Somewhere we can lay low...and figure out what we're going to do next."
He knew where they were going to get out of sight. He just had to hope that his stealth satellite was still operational. He had enough chases for one day. So if he saw another Titan, it would be too soon.
"Pilot," MIC started nervously.
Will rolled his eyes. He was not in the mood.
"Um, thanks...thanks for saving me back there."
His eyebrows furrowed and he stayed quiet. He wasn't really expecting anything like that, nor for it to sound so...heartfelt?
At least a machine is the one thing in my life that knew how to be grateful.
Now that he was thinking about it, Will couldn't really remember the last time he had actually been thanked for anything. Of course, he's been on his own for a while. But even back in pilot school, and even when he was doing contracts for that gang, everything was strictly business.
He scoffed. "It was necessary," he said finally.
THUNK.
The ship had suddenly gained more mass and was slowly losing altitude.
"The hel—?"
"Think you can fly away, yeah?!" Came the loud, pirate voice of the Captain. "Well, this is a no-fly-zone!"
The orb shape of the Captain's Northstar hung over the front of the ship, looking straight into the cockpit at Will.
Not this shit again!
"Land now, and we won't hurt you!"
"Train your damned lapdog first!" Will replied, sending the ship into a slow barrel roll. He hoped he could shake him off.
The Northstar hung on easily. "Come on pilot, we can strike a deal, just you n' me!"
The mass of the ship kept shifting around as the ship completed its first roll, and Will was already getting sick. Thankfully, fresh air somehow flooded his cockpit to keep him steady.
"It's going to take a lot more than that to get rid of me! Come on, pilot, don't make me crash this thing!"
Will gulped. Blurriness clouded the edges of his vision and sound was muffled in his ears. He stopped the rolling, and the Northstar's optic crashed on the window. Will jumped in his seat with full focus once again. Thankfully, the cockpit didn't seem damaged at all from the impact, but Will could see sparks suddenly flowing freely from just above the Northstar's shoulder.
The Captain had grunted in surprise and turned to receive a blow from a Monarch's metal fist.
MIC?!
Will shifted his seat and found that the fresh air was coming from the bay door being wide open.
His Titan was literally hanging off the side of the ship.
¡Qué chingados!
"Git offov me!" The Captain said angrily, trying to fend off the blows.
MIC made another jab to detach the mercenary off the ship. The Northstar dodged, keeping both hands gripped on the front, exposing their back where their plasma railgun was stored. MIC lunged for it.
Will's breath was caught as the Monarch stumbled, only getting a handle of it at the last second. It steadied itself and yanked the railgun free from the smaller Titan's back.
"Beachside!" MIC grunted. "Keep rolling!"
Without another thought, Will obeyed and the ship began another loop. This time with him strengthening his core to avoid puking. His teeth clenched as all he could do was fly blind as the two Titans competed in hand-to-hand combat in front of his window.
"Remember! Use your right jet to rotate and hover down!" MIC's speakers blared over the rush of wind.
"What?" The Captain responded confusedly.
"Goodbye!"
The farewell was followed by MIC grabbing onto the Northstar's nonfunctioning thruster that was still spraying sparks. With a forceful tug, MIC threw the mercenary off the ship. And just as MIC suggested, the Captain used his rightmost thrusters to steady himself on his descent, rotating to keep a center of gravity.
Will slowed the ship down after the last barrel roll and glared confused daggers at his Titan as it made it's way back to the bay door. A fit of hot anger was simmering in the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite articulate it. His teeth were glued together. He didn't have the energy.
The fresh air ceased to fill the cockpit and Will sent out a signal to his stealth satellite. Thankfully it was still there. With no more distractions, he set a course for their destination and disconnected from the controls, allowing the autopilot to do the rest of the work. Slowly, the ship's altitude raised up into space.
He heaved a heavy sigh.
Today has really been the fucking worst! He thought with a raised fist, intent on punching his console. He looked at his clenched hand, it shook mildly. He stared at it numbly.
Then he lowered it. He didn't have the energy. I need a nap.
He exited the cockpit, fatigue hanging into the edges of his eyes. MIC sat cramped in the ship, brandishing the railgun. Its optics still cracked.
"Beachside."
He flung his hand off ward clumsily as he headed to his cabin. "Shut the fuck up."
MEMORY SYNC INITIATED.
Syncing Log L-1/A-6...
PILOT: Assigned.
PILOT IDENTITY: Beachside.
EVALUATION: Hot-headed and quick to anger. Fiercely reserved. Currently unfit for duty. Unlink recommended. Circumstance of hostile pursuers overrules recommendation. Further data required for future actions. Hope that pilot becomes more cohesive. Suspect history of trauma.
Obtained PR-01 Plasma Railgun. 6 shots remaining. Ammo low.
Descriptive timeline of visual feed: Visuals disrupted, inferencing...Void. Space. Sparkles. Stars. Leaving planet. Destination unknown. Pilot Beachside sleeps. Stays in the cabin. Twenty-nine hours and eight minutes pass and a new planet appear in the way of our trajectory. Destination? Five more hours pass and Pilot Beachside re-emerges from his cabin. Attempted communication. Still lacks cohesion. Pilot Beachside initiates a landing sequence on the unknown planet. Void fades, rain takes its place. Still dark. The ship lands away from civilization in the distance. Pilot Beachside prefers isolation. I disembark. Marshland Biome. It's wet. I give a cowering small unknown animal a large leaf from a tall tree. It chirps. Pilot Beachside stays quiet, builds a camp.
Human life signs detected: 2.