"Deliver me from all my needs. Those bitter words that taste so sweet. Delusional, until we fold. Buried under the weight of the world." - Battle Tapes, Weight of the World
TITANFALL: DEAD MEN WALKING
CHAPTER 6: OLD WOUNDS
THE FRONTIER
MCS REDEYE
MEDICAL BAY
FRONTIER REPUBLIC MARAUDER CORPS
CAPTAIN CALEB ORION
Captain Orion had been the last one to receive medical attention, by his own order. In his own words, there were many more wounded men in worse condition than he was. Thus, when his time came, the medical bay was mostly silent, having cleared out many patients, or others had been resting in the plethora of cots. He'd spent the spare time trying to help out wherever he could, inadvertently getting in the medical team's way. Reluctantly, he obeyed their wishes and stepped aside, left to his anxious impatience.
Presently, the pilot himself was fairly isolated, resting in a chair at the far end of the Redeye's medical bay with his gear slumped next to the wall. The man had finished his treatment yet remained, looking over the wounded while staying nearby if the medics wanted to check up on the arm again. As such, he had his sleeves rolled up, revealing the handful of stitches woven into his arm to close up the wound he received on Alexandria. However, he paid it no mind since the doctor stitched it up, instead focusing on an open notebook as well as the wrist pad he robbed the Apex Titan Pilot of.
Enthralled in the possible findings, Caleb scrolled through the files on the device, hoping he would find relevant data regarding Apex's contract, their contractor, their goal, numbers, anything. He scrolled through a few documents regarding this individual pilot's pay incentives per mission until stumbling across a document listed as contract details.
The MCOR Captain opened the document. It was painfully brief.
Contract Details
To whom it may concern,
Your services have been engaged by [REDACTED].
Listed below are your main operational concerns.
Primary Task: Facilitate the location and detainment of tier one high value target, call-sign "Echo" as detailed in briefing.
Secondary Task: Detainment and interrogation of any Militia officers, particularly pilots for information relative to primary task. (Pay incentives will increase per Militia soldier taken alive)
Tertiary Task: Ensuring the operation maintains security. No witnesses.
Caleb scoffed, finding himself with more questions than he had answers. The only confirmation he had found was that the enemy was looking for someone in particular, presumably within the Frontier Republic...Still incredibly vague...At the very least it explained why they had been taking Militia officers and pilots alive. However, he still knew nothing of who exactly hired them and what their goal was. Who were they looking for? Why?
His original assumption was the IMC funding mercenaries to reduce IMC personnel casualties during combat. It was a common practice this late in the war, especially by the IMC's ARES Division, who had hired the Apex Predators in the past. Perhaps the IMC was gunning for high ranking Republic officers and was using expendable contractors to do so? He wouldn't scratch the IMC off the list of possibilities, but he had to question that validity when he took into consideration what the Marauders on Alexandria said…
"Well, then you know, with whoever did all this still runnin' around and with the Militia nor the IMC able to stop em'...guy's gotta make a livin' somehow."
He shook his head, scolding himself for taking something a Marauder said this seriously. Yet, he couldn't shake one thought; What if it wasn't the IMC? Was there a third party involved?
For the time being, he placed the data pad down with the rest of his gear with an exhausted sigh, choosing to leave the speculation to Barker and Briggs once he briefed them and President Day about their findings on Alexandria. They elected to postpone the debrief for a couple of hours while the medics did their work. They did, however, agree with Orion and had chosen to pursue the active tracker once damage to the Redeye was assessed and repaired.
The Pilot sighed, running a hand through his hair before looking around the much quieter medical bay. His attention was focused on a handful of the soldiers wounded by the phase-shifting pilot during the end of the engagement with the mercenaries. He would be lying if he said that he wasn't scrutinizing himself. Caleb had killed plenty of enemy pilots, this shouldn't have been different, and yet the enemy made a complete fool of him and killed several of Wright's soldiers and injured more.
The Captain briefly recalled his conversation with Iroh, knowing full well he'd disappointed the man and let Wright down. For a small sense of familiarity and security, the MCOR pilot lifted his tattered sketch book into his lap, scrolling through the old pages. At his core, he was lonely, making him flip to a page he kept bookmarked with a collection of photos. The page had been crudely torn out a long time ago that he couldn't quite remember all the details, other than it was a drawing of her equipment. The very first one he did. He had sketched another, trying to replace it, but it lacked the same sentiment to him.
The man briefly shifted his attention to the pictures, sifting through them before stopping on one in particular. His thumb traced the wrinkled corners. In the frame two green clad pilots sat on the edge of a bed, the same room he refused to sleep in presently. The woman with jet black hair had her lips pressed against his cheek. They both looked terrible, covered in blood, soot and sweat. And yet, he treasured it as if it were made of the finest gold.
He and Allison took the picture mere minutes before deploying to Demeter. Not an hour had passed since his best friend took a bullet for them and not too long before Keller would sacrifice himself on Demeter alongside MacAllan. It was one of the worst days of his life, competing only with the day Allison was killed in action as well.
The following months were living hell. He'd considered a solution to his depression in the form of his sidearm, or the bottom of several bottles, emulating Barker's tendencies. He was only saved by a call from Bish, informing him of a voice signal received by the Militia. The garbled voice sounded familiar, pushing the man and his titan into action yet again, postponing his solution for several years.
He kept trying to deny it, praying she was out there, waiting for him to save her. But as the years dragged on, he lost faith, yet he continued, devoid of any other purpose on the Frontier.
The man could feel wet streaks streaming down his face already. Why he decided to look at it despite his better judgement, he'd never know.
"...Do you blame yourself?"
Caleb looked up at the chair opposite of him, seeing the apparition of Allison leaning forward, visible pity on her face. The woman donned the typical MCOR green suit that he often imagined her in. She looked relatively the same as the photo he had just been viewing.
The man sighed, trying to ignore her at first, hoping she would just leave him be. He would occasionally look up as the minutes went by, still seeing her sitting across from him.
"Well?"
Caleb sighed, learning the hard way that she wouldn't leave.
"...What kind of question is that...Of course I do."
"It wasn't your fault."
"Don't be stupid...All of it was my fault."
"What makes you say that?"
"My best friend was shot to death because I was too arrogant, too stupid to stop it from happening. Keller and MacAllan died because I couldn't turn that battle around. You died because of an order I gave, after rushing off alone, expecting to win against a man who was leagues better than I'll ever be."
"I don't think you give yourself enough credit, Caleb. I know you tried, you didn't mean for any of that to happen."
"I don't care what you think. You're not real...I know I'm crazy...You're not here. Leave. Me. Alone."
Her expression soured, changing to that of the abrupt fear and uncertainty Caleb saw on her face as she fell to her death.
"You don't mean that."
The Captain was lost for words, unable to form any retort while paralyzed by her expression alone. The apparition extended her hand, muttering his name every so often before letting out a blood curdling scream. The Pilot winced and his heart sank fast. He covered his ears and hunched over, shielding himself from the auditory horror and torment.
"Sir?"
Caleb opened his eyes and slowly uncovered his ears, listening for a moment to ensure his harassment had come to end. He looked up, seeing the chair in front of him empty. He quickly wiped his face with his sleeve and glanced over his shoulder, seeing Lieutenant Wright standing sheepishly nearby, a weapon slung over her shoulder.
"Lieutenant." Orion cleared his throat, trying to compose himself. "Figured you'd be with the survivors, what brings you down here?"
Wright didn't answer at first, too focused staring at the pilot. Orion had tried playing all of it off, but she had been there far longer than she was willing to admit, and she had seen everything. The hero she believed Captain Orion to be was revealed to be a broken, suffering man who had no place on the frontlines any longer. The feeling of pity she harbored planet-side returned, much stronger this time.
"I was just there...asked a couple questions before reporting it to Commander Briggs...Just...thought I'd come down and check up on the men...and you...Also had to return this, as promised." Wright slowly unslung the Captain's G2A4 rifle, letting it sit against the cot.
The MCOR soldier stared at the rifle briefly before turning his attention to the reserved Lieutenant.
"Thanks." A stoic response was all he could muster. "Did the survivors give you anything helpful?"
"Well, the woman, Rosa...her husband is a Militia pilot. Taken by the Apex predators. Odds are the enemy is using him for information regarding this mystery person they're after. There's a bit more we can go over later."
"Shit…" Caleb groaned, knowing full well how hard it would be hitting both her and her child. "I'll head down there after my brief with Day. Good work, Lieutenant."
She gave a nod and was about to dismiss herself and let the man be before spotting something.
"Who is that?" Wright asked, looking at the opened journal sitting on the bed next to the Captain.
Caleb glanced over at the journal, scolding himself for leaving it out. He had once refused to let anyone else learn of his crippling weakness. Those who already knew, such as Commanders Briggs and Taube, Graves and Bish, often kept quiet about it. He closed the booklet and tossed it into the pile of gear.
"Someone I used to know."
"You two must've been close...She's very prett-"
"She's dead."
Wright looked to the floor, mentally smacking herself for being inconsiderate. However, she couldn't help but wonder more about the man and the photo. He hadn't exactly been forthcoming about...well, anything.
Caleb took hold of the G2, momentarily taking in the details of the old rifle before shaking his head and placing it down.
Wright awkwardly took a seat across from the man, where he had been seeing Allison sit before him.
"...Are you okay?"
The Captain chuckled lightly, remembering his own comment about Wright's developing habit of asking if he was alright. Were he to answer truthfully, it would be an obvious response. One he wasn't willing to give.
"I'm fine, Terra. Nothing compared to what I'm used to." He answered, gesturing to the bandages on his arm.
Wright sighed. They both knew he was dodging the question, however she relented, choosing not to push him any further.
"...Well, what are you used to?"
"Worst one was this." Caleb said, gesturing to his other arm.
On his forearm was a massive scar on either side, where Colonel Kenneth Maren of the IMC's 17th Armored Foot-mobile had stabbed him. Using his own arm as a shield was a last ditch effort to avoid the blade being plunged deep into his forehead. Unbelievably painful, yet effective.
"The son of a bitch who did that left a couple marks on me. Gunshots, stabs, burns, you name them."
He tugged at the collar of his uniform, pulling it down by his shoulder where yet another stab scar had been left. Wright took mental note while comparing to her own scars. He looked more like an abstract painting than a man.
"And of course, everyone sees these two."
Orion tapped his left cheek, displaying the horizontal scar just above his stubble and then the left side of his mouth where a vertical scar traveled down his lips.
"Kind of hard to miss, I suppose...Did he make those too?" Wright wasn't entirely sure what 'he' alluded to, but, she tried connecting the two scars to the 'son of a bitch' he spoke about with such venom.
"No." He shook his head. "Cheek was a Militia pilot during the Fracture operation...When I was an IMC Marine. The other, was a Marauder Colonel...that Herrick guy you heard those scumbags mention planet-side. I have a habit of making enemies out there."
Wright looked up, seeing something akin to anger or rage in his eyes. It was the same look he had on the colony just before shooting the two Marauders in the bar.
"Is that why you hate them so much?"
"One of many reasons."
"...What happened to you?"
"Been to a lot of places, got shot at by a lot of people. Yuma system, Troy, Demeter, you name it, I've been there, probably got a scar from it."
"No, not the physical scars. Sir, how did you get here?"
The Captain grunted and leaned back into his chair, reaching for the flask in his gear as he did.
"Not nearly drunk enough to get into that, Wright."
Caleb's wrist communicator beeped, displaying a message from Briggs. She'd requested his presence the moment he was available. He let out a small sigh of relief before standing up.
"Saved by the bell." He started, lightly patting her shoulder as he passed her. "Thanks, Wright. Check up on your men then get some rest. You did good today."
Without another word, the man left, leaving a frustrated Wright behind to watch.
THE FRONTIER
MCS REDEYE
INTERSTELLAR COMMUNICATIONS ROOM
FRONTIER REPUBLIC MARAUDER CORPS
CAPTAIN CALEB ORION
Captain Orion hastily made his way for the Interstellar Communications Room, electing not to keep the Commanders waiting any longer than they already had been. While yes, they themselves had delegated that time for himself and the troops to receive medical attention, he'd long overstayed his welcome in order to look after the men and in doing so, had kept not only Briggs waiting, but the President as well. He approached the hatchway, quickly punching in his codes before it slid out of the way to allow entry. From the doorway, he could see both Commander Briggs and Barker in deep discussion, surrounded by many crew members all working diligently at their stations.
"Sorry I'm late."
The MCOR Captain stepped into the room, tossing his hip flask towards Commander Briggs, who caught it immediately.
"Don't worry about it, Kid. You needed a second." Barker was the first to answer, instantly defending his protege.
"How many did we lose?" After taking a swig of the flask and handing it to Barker, Sarah got to business fast, not out of malice, but out of importance.
"Eight dead, plenty more wounded. The other shipboard troops are probably going to have to augment Wright's platoon to keep it up to strength." Caleb answered with a defeated tone, underlying the true anger he felt.
"Speaking of, where's Wright?"
"Seeing to the wounded. I elected to come alone."
"Come on, Caleb, the President told you to play nice with her and Iroh. They're your team for now, and they could use an experienced Pilot helping them lead."
"I understand, Commander." Caleb nodded. "Just...have to get used to the idea of actually having a team again..."
Briggs approached the man, placing a hand on his shoulder. It was a non-verbal acknowledgement of her understanding exactly what he was going through by personal experience. One simply didn't command the SRS without loss or sacrifice. Both had seen their share of death.
"Right. Well, an issue for later I guess." She chuckled lightly. "Come on, President Day is gonna be waiting to hear from you."
Joined by Barker and Sarah, the Captain marched into the interstellar communications room. In the center of the room sat a display table similar to that of the one in the ship's bridge. Commander Briggs nodded to a MRVN unit that stood patiently behind a console. It beeped in compliance, displaying its bright smiley face chest plate before pressing in a few commands with haste.
Moments later, a holographic display of President Day in her office materialized on the table. She had been speaking with an adviser before taking notice of the three MCOR officers addressing her.
"Commanders, Captain, it's good to see you all safe. I've been waiting for your report. Did you reach the Colony, Captain Orion?"
"Yes Ma'am, I was there. I wish I had better news to report...The entire colony was wiped out. It was attacked by the same people who attacked Harmony. We only found two survivors. Lieutenant Wright has already spoken with them, Ma'am, but I intend to sit down with them to ask further questions."
"The entire colony?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"...Who are we dealing with, Captain? Who would do this?"
Caleb pondered for a moment before answering, considering the information he had been thinking about earlier.
"I don't know."
Barker and Briggs turned their heads, confused as to why he'd answer in such a fashion despite mentioning spotting the Apex Predators planet-side. They'd both heard the radio traffic, read Wright's reports and heard the statements of the foot soldiers who had fought there. Yet he contradicted all that information with one statement.
"Captain?" President Day tilted her head after taking notice of the sudden change of aura in the room.
"My first assumption was the Apex Predators, Ma'am. Just as we had discussed on Harmony. If anything, I was close to damn sure that it was them. I even saw the logo down there on an enemy pilot."
"So, what has you doubting yourself?"
"It was something a pirate looter said, believe it or not."
"Go on, Captain." Day leaned forward, cupping her hands together.
"The pirates had said they'd known of several other colonies and worlds being hit by these guys and that neither the Militia or the IMC were able to stop them. One of the Apex Predators' top contractors is the IMC. Why would they cut themselves off from such a wealthy backer by attacking them? The Remnant Fleet run by spyglass, maybe. But the conventional IMC? It doesn't make sense."
"Not that I don't believe you. But, I'm skeptical to take the word of pirates."
"As am I. But, I only noticed the one symbol and didn't spot Kuben Blisk or any recognizable foe on the battlefield. I'm not one-hundred percent convinced, but, it may eliminate one group from the possible roster."
"So, regarding who we're after, we're left with more questions than answers?"
"Yes, Ma'am."
"Could you at very least hazard a guess to what they're after?"
"...They're looking for someone."
"Any idea who?"
"I'm working on figuring that out. We're in pursuit of the same active tracker from Harmony. Wherever they go, we'll find them. All we know as of this moment is that they're taking Militia officers, particularly pilots alive with the intent of locating a target they've designated Echo. I don't suppose that name means anything to you, ma'am?"
The President stopped, taking a moment to think before slowly shaking her head.
"...No, I can't say it does...Suppose if they wanted people to know, they wouldn't be using call-signs."
Caleb exhaled from his nose. He was hoping he could find answers and came up short again.
"In that case, ma'am, I recommend we raise the threat condition for all Militia forces in preparation for possible assaults. I also suggest you up your personal security for your safety ma'am."
"I appreciate the concern, Captain, but I'm confident-"
"Ma'am. With all due respect, I just walked through a colony of dead civilians, pilots and soldiers that couldn't stop these guys, and we barely got out of that. I beg you, take the steps to protect yourself."
The room fell silent for a moment. Briggs had considered getting the Captain in line for speaking out of turn to the President, but stopped herself when he made the valid point regarding the enemy's capabilities. President Day stared silently at the Marauder Captain, who was expecting an earful.
"Alright. If you believe there is genuine risk, Captain, I am in no position to doubt you. You haven't let the Militia down before."
Caleb looked at the floor for a brief moment in response to her comment. He had half a mind to correct her broad and very incorrect statement, but elected to stay silent and answer with a nod.
"It seems we're going to be going through a dark period before this is over...Keep me posted with any new information you come up with. Once you're within jump distance to a resupply depot, I'll have Cooper and the Third Militia Grenadiers reinforce you, should you need it."
"Thank you, Ma'am. We'll keep in touch."
"Good luck, Captain."
The hologram soon dissipated, leaving the three officers and the MVRN alone again.
Sarah was the first to leave, stating she'd check with the ship's Captain regarding the status of the tracker and estimated time of arrival...to wherever they were headed. Caleb stayed silent, still staring at the wall in deep thought while Barker leaned against the workstation the MRVN had been using. The drunk had been waiting for Caleb to say something, or do anything for that matter. However, the Pilot stood still, scratching his head in confusion while trying to piece together the situation.
Barker chuckled lightly and unscrewed the cap of the flask that had been tossed by Caleb, and took a quick swig. He instantly recoiled as the liquid struck his taste buds.
"Jesus, what the hell is that?"
"That's your moonshine."
"...Ah...An acquired taste."
Barker chuckled again before screwing the cap back on and tossing it back to Caleb, who placed it back onto his belt. Taube sighed out of disappointment shortly after.
"You know, that was one of the habits I didn't want you to pick up from me, kid. At least not that much. Being the Militia's alcoholic is my job."
"Don't blame yourself for this, Barker. I could stop whenever I want. I need an escape sometimes."
The Captain was lying, of course, and found himself locked to the bottle much like Barker had been.
"Look, about that...I've been thinking, shockin' I know. But, once this is over...Let's get out there and see what the Frontier is really like, huh? I'll teach you how to be a real pilot, flyin' ships out there in the expanse. Trust me, it's a lot more liberating than sitting in a mech suit gettin' shot at, I'd know. I've still got friends in Angel City, we could get a group going!"
"I don't think I'd be all that good at coasting, Barker. I'm where I'm needed."
"Never know until you try, kid...I want more for you than just...fightin' the IMC and random evil mercenaries until you're dead."
"But...We've trained so long just to get me to this level...this is the one thing I'm good at. Between Mac and you, I've got so much training value put into me and you want to give it up? What's changed?"
"Look kid, there's more to life than fighting. Even out here on the Frontier. Yeah, you're good at this. But after this long I've realized...that I wish you didn't need to be so good at it. Does that make sense?"
Caleb pondered for a moment. With Barker, it was the closest thing anyone would get to a 'I care about you'. While Barker would always be the clumsy drunk and ace pilot that many Militia soldiers knew of, he would always have a small part of a soldier still in him. That soldier in him was what trained Caleb to his current level and what continued to care about him. However, to Caleb, safety was never a guarantee, no matter how much you cared or tried.
He looked up, giving a quick shrug before speaking.
"...No one ever said this was a safe job, I guess. Occupational hazards?"
"You're stubborn, kid. Damn stubborn."
"I get it from you."
Caleb joined the man, leaning against the workstation wall while the MRVN droid awkwardly stared at the two men. Barker responded in the form of a quick shoulder hug before pushing himself off the wall.
"I should get back to work before Sarah kicks my ass. But, think about it, will ya?"
"Okay." Caleb nodded. "I will. But, first we fight, then we drink."
Barker grinned.
"Ha. First we fight, then we drink. I like that."
THE FRONTIER
MCS REDEYE
TITAN HANGAR BAY
FRONTIER REPUBLIC MARAUDER CORPS
LIEUTENANT TERRA WRIGHT
Wright wandered, unable to sleep like most nights. With her hands stuffed into the pockets of her sweats, her eyes tracked the floor, aimlessly guiding her all over the ship. She'd hoped that something useful would come out of her restlessness, such as learning the ins and the outs of the ship, or maybe finding a way to calm her nerves as she scanned the steel plating. However, she still found herself lost after every turn until it took her to the Titan bay, just as anxious as ever.
Multiple machines of war were suspended from cranes over the drop bays, desperately awaiting battle and to be released from the confines of the ship. One specific Titan caught her attention. A Vanguard Class Titan that sported a Ranger Green coat of paint with gunmetal grey accents. The cockpit hatch bore a traditional black ace of spades with the text faith printed in white just above it. This machine was VC 5394, Captain Orion's titan that he had called in during the waning moments of the Battle of Alexandria. The Lieutenant stopped, observing the titan. She was intrigued, having believed that only SRS Pilots were given Vanguard Class Titans. To her knowledge, the Captain wasn't a member of the SRS.
The woman approached, placing her hand on some bullet scoring along the right leg of the machine. In reaction to the presence of a Pilot, the Vanguard's blue iris lit up and raced around the room, searching for the source until fixating on the casually dressed, amber haired pilot below.
"Hello? VC?" Wright sheepishly croaked.
The unit that housed the iris, commonly referred to as the Titan's head for ease, tilted quizzically upon Wright's greeting. With a synthetic, artificial calm voice, VC spoke.
"Hello, Lieutenant Wright. It is currently after duty hours, can I assist you?"
"Couldn't sleep so I've just been wandering around...Didn't mean to bother you, big guy."
"It is no bother, Lieutenant. If I can help, I will do so."
Wright flashed the Titan a quick smile before thinking. Talking usually did help to calm her nerves. She looked up to see the Titan patiently waiting for a response.
"Did your chassis take any damage while we were on the ground?"
"Caleb stated that you may be inclined to ask such a question along the lines of 'are you okay'. Only slight damage to report, critical systems are functional and all hard armor damage will be repaired within the coming day. VC 5394 fully operational, Lieutenant."
The Lieutenant nodded, still adjusting to the 'professionalism' that came with Titans inherently via their tone and mannerisms. However, VC in particular seemed to share at least some traits with Captain Orion. Like the Marauder Corps pilot, the titan dropped formalism when discussing him in particular. VC's focus was something to note as well...The Titan's optical unit wandered, observing everything out of interest rather than focusing solely on the Lieutenant out of programmed obedience.
"And you, Lieutenant?"
The question came as a surprise to her. She hadn't expected the war machine to express interest.
"Me? Oh. Well, I'm okay. Didn't take any hits down there. Wish I could say the same for some of my men and the Captain."
"As Caleb has told me, many of them will recover. For mental resiliency, try to focus on the fact you were victorious in dealing casualties to the enemy and pushing them off world. Taking deep breaths may also help. Accurate battlefield performance review could also be a source of positivity. For instance, Caleb told me you fought well, I'm sure your men would agree. As for Pilot Orion, he will be fine. It will take more than that to stop him."
"I'll...keep that in mind, VC. As for the Captain, it definitely seems that way...It barely seemed to phase him, he told me he'd been through a lot worse."
"We have."
"Like?"
VC's optical unit squinted, quizzically investigating the pilot. Wright could only assume the Titan was eyeing her up, cautiously choosing his response, weighing the reasons why she would ask such a question.
"I have been linked to Captain Caleb Orion for one thousand eight hundred and forty six days, of which we have participated in many battles. And even before we were linked, he fought alongside my original pilot for many months, both with and against the IMC. I have witnessed him undergo intense physical and mental pain. This enemy pilot may have bested him this time, but it will not happen again."
"You and the Captain weren't originally linked? I'd assumed you were commissioned for him."
"No. I was linked with Captain Orion those years ago as a final decision by my previous pilot, Captain Allison Sorin, formerly of the IMC."
"Who was s-"
"Why do you ask, Lieutenant?"
VC had cut her off, in a similar fashion as the Captain. It seemed she struck a nerve not only with Caleb, but also a circuit for VC.
"Well. Iroh and I are supposed to be working with this guy and everything we know about the guy kind of seems to be blown out of proportion. I want to believe these stories that he's a hero...But all I see is pain and rage."
"How would being informed of his history assist in unit combat effectiveness?"
"Trust, for starters."
VC's tone modulated a slightly peeved voice, not quite being convinced of the importance.
"The necessity to know one's past to deem them trustworthy is a uniquely human quality."
"Geez, don't tell me I'm human?!" Wright scoffed, half joking.
"I detect sarcasm."
"Sorry." She answered with a shrug before stuffing her hands back into her pockets. The Lieutenant leaned against a supply crate, eager to hear more.
"I have done the math, the probability of Caleb risking bodily harm or death to ensure the survival of friendly Militia forces, regardless of class, rank or position, is projected to be ninety percent. I can assure you that, despite not opening himself to anyone on this ship other than myself and Commander Taube, he trusts you and everyone else aboard."
"He's got a funny way of showing it."
"Do not take offence. Caleb has hardly ever been a socially intelligent person. Once battlefield trauma was applied, you could imagine it saw an even sharper decline."
Wright grunted and slid down the crate, looking up at the Titan.
"Let me ask you, Lieutenant. Would you expose your history to any new colleague if requested to?"
"If it helped them trust me. Then yeah, I would."
"Have you tried this method with the Captain?"
"He...seems distracted..."
Wright recalled briefly watching the Captain in the medical bay. He was speaking to someone. At first she had thought he'd been on the comms with someone, but his intense reactions alluded to something more personal going on.
Wright sighed, rubbing her forehead in slight frustration.
"Besides...I would if I could remember more than just a few things."
"What do you mean?"
"I took a 'really bad hit' on Typhon. Apparently." Wright shrugged with a sigh. "I can't really remember much outside of touching down, the platoon commander getting shot, stepping up and then waking up on a Militia frigate in orbit after the fold weapon destroyed the planet...I haven't told the Captain about that little detail yet..."
"A deficit in memory caused by brain damage. Likely amnesia."
"Yeah I know. The docs and Iroh had to fill in the blanks. I can't even really remember my family that well. They're back on Harmony. The doctors think it'll all come back to me eventually."
"I am sorry, Lieutenant. I imagine that is disheartening. Doctor Carver in the medical wing specializes in mental health. I recommend speaking with her should you need assistance...Though I cannot understand why you have not told Caleb while scrutinizing him for his closed nature."
"Could you imagine how a soldier like that would see me? A new pilot who can't even remember where she was born? Think he'd trust me to lead those men and women into combat? I guess I'm trying to focus on making new memories with what I've got right now. I need people I can trust to do that, and people that can trust me."
"You must give him more credit than that. As he has told me, you have displayed battlefield cunning and leadership. He would not lie about something as important as that."
"Maybe." Wright anxiously toyed with a chunk of her locks while considering her options regarding the subject.
VC stayed quiet again, squinting and looking around the room while thinking his next course of action. For once, the Titan found itself stumbled and rather unsure of what to do. He, a war machine, was being confided in by the Lieutenant while the conversation had started about her being unable to trust the Captain and raising their effectiveness via cohesion. Now, it managed to flip the other way, concerning Caleb's trust of her. If VC could sigh, he would have.
Technically, he had a duty to increase battlefield effectiveness and was convinced by the Lieutenant that he had an opportunity to assist with that. On the other hand, Caleb was more than just a Militia Pilot, a piece on the battlefield to levy numbers over the IMC. He was his friend. For Caleb's sake, VC needed Wright to trust him, and for her sake as a Militia ally, he needed Caleb to trust her.
No easy feat, the Titan mused.
Terra watched the Titan ponder before toying with her dog tags as she waited for a response.
After a few minutes of awkward silence, the Titan spoke.
"Caleb was born on Nye. Here on the Frontier. He served as an IMC Marine alongside his best friend, Philip Spear. They friends before enlisting, knowing each other for years. The two were under a man named Staff Sergeant Eric Keller, a career IMC soldier. During the Fracture operation, their entire unit, Echo 6-1, was wiped out by the Militia."
Terra looked up with a brow raised, moments ago she could swear she had failed miserably to convince the Titan.
"Separated, Caleb thought his friends were dead and was attached to an IMC Pilot squad led by an extremely dangerous man, Colonel Kenneth Maren. More importantly, he was brought to that unit by my pilot, Captain Allison Sorin."
"...How did he join the Militia?"
"Caleb deliberately let the mutineer James MacAllan and Robert 'Barker' Taube escape from IMC patrols in Angel City after becoming disillusioned with the IMC regarding their treatment of Frontier civilians and conduct of operation. The same such incident resulted in Caleb gunning down an IMC pilot to ensure his treason went undetected. He continued serve in the IMC, held back by only one thing."
"...Whoa...I knew that he worked with MacAllan...but I never knew that it was Captain Orion himself in the story of MacAllan's escape…It sounds oddly familiar."
The Lieutenant scratched her chin, trying to remember anything that could help her connect the dots, to no avail.
"It is likely that Warrant Officer Iroh filled you in with many details regarding the Frontier War during your recovery. The Battle of Angel City is marked with both fame and infamy for the Militia and IMC respectively."
"Yeah, maybe you're right...But, one thing doesn't make sense to me. If he killed an IMC pilot and let MacAllan go, why'd he stay? Why risk detection and death for an organization he hated?"
"My pilot."
Wright could hazard a guess based on what she saw earlier. But still, she asked.
"Why?"
VC looked towards the steel paneled flooring. If apprehension was ever projected by a Titan, this was it.
"In his own words, he loved her. Caleb had developed a particular rage regarding the Colonel's use of my pilot in warfare. Captain Sorin wasn't officially inducted into the IMC. She was trained off the record by Maren after her mother was killed by the old MCOR. She left her drunkard father and joined Maren to seek revenge. If I were to evaluate her psychological profile, it would no doubt come back as sociopathic in nature. She was kind, but dangerous and cruel at times."
"Suppose that comes with being a pilot."
"No, Lieutenant. Captain Sorin was my friend, but she was anything but well. It was my early hypothesis that Lance Corporal Orion was a factor in maintaining her decaying sanity. When he was ousted by Maren and nearly killed, she defected after being ordered to execute him. Were it any other person, they would be dead with zero hesitation."
VC's recital was accurate to the letter as he had either seen many of the events personally or had been informed of them in great detail by Sorin herself after the fact.
"I was loyal to my pilot, therefore I went with them. Maren used her as psychological warfare against the Militia, as well as a near unstoppable killing machine. I do not believe she had any care regarding the outcome of the war, and only cared for killing as many Militia soldiers as she could. That was until she met the Lance Corporal. For that reason alone she contained herself once joining the Militia."
"Did the Captain know about all that? She sounded like a scary woman."
"Not all of it. He knew of her past and hatred of the Militia, but not to the extent that I observed personally. Caleb saw her humanity and thought he could save her. But, at first he was terrified of her. I assume to an extent it never faded. This was to be expected as Maren often used her as a disciplinary tool to keep him and other IMC soldiers in line."
Wright found herself shocked. The man who fought on the colony did not seem like the person to see the best in people and try to fix the issue with diplomacy and compassion. He'd sooner end the problem down the barrel of a B3 Wingman or at the bottom of a flask. It was still unfathomable to her regardless. Whether it was engaging the enemy head on or trying to fix sociopaths, Orion always seemed to dive in recklessly.
"I see that he was just as crazy back then as he is now."
"Passionate is the word I would use, Lieutenant. He and Captain Sorin continued to work together closely until they developed a romantic relationship. Shortly beforehand, it was revealed that both Keller and Spear had survived, and had joined the Militia. To many, this period would be euphoric. Caleb was terrified."
"Why? He had everything he needed...He had his friends, Sorin, a cause worth fighting for."
To an extent it was something that Terra envied. Since Typhon she couldn't even remember her own family. The Captain on the other hand had it all and appreciated it in a way she detested. He had refused to simply enjoy what he had.
"He was afraid of losing it all. He had everything he needed except the skill to keep them all safe. As a mere rifleman he deemed it impossible to protect those he cared for. James MacAllan took him under his wing shortly after to begin training as a Militia pilot. Thus began a path of self destruction as he fought desperately to prepare himself for whatever the IMC could throw at him."
"...Talk about putting pressure on yourself...Just a kid thinking he could do it all himself..."
"Yes. It is something we have both already seen you do."
Wright looked up, ready to retort but stopped herself. VC had been right. She hadn't had a decent rest since her promotion and it had only worsened upon being given command of the operation. She sighed, sliding down a supply crate while the Vanguard class Titan watched.
"Though he was successful in becoming a pilot, he was unsurprisingly unable to achieve the level of skill that he deemed necessary. Philip Spear was killed in action while assaulting Air Base Sierra, taking a gunshot wound from Colonel Maren's weapon that would have killed either him or Captain Sorin.
Wright could hazard an educated guess that this Maren was the man Caleb had been referring to earlier regarding his wounds.
"Hours later, both James MacAllan and Eric Keller were killed in the blast on Demeter. Caleb claims he was unable to save them."
Wright could already see the route the conversation was taking, and felt slightly guilty for how she regarded the Captain. In the end, all he really wanted to do was protect people, even if he was crazy.
"Several months later, he and Sorin split over an argument regarding his self destruction. Less than a week later she was presumed killed in action after fighting Colonel Maren. Captain Orion was near death and could do nothing but watch as she plummeted to her death after the building they were on was decimated by an airstrike...that he had called in."
Terra thought back to the mess of a human being she saw in the medical bay and finally understood the reason why.
"...Jesus...VC, I'm so sorry, I had no idea...I wouldn't have pursued."
"Pilot Sorin was a cunning warrior and a good friend. I miss her. But, there is no reason to apologize, Lieutenant."
"...You said presumed...?"
"There was no body, and a message with her voice was received by the Militia. But no further communication was ever established regardless of the countless attempts and several years searching by myself and the Captain."
"...I don't even know what to say. I can't even imagine what that feels like."
"He once told me, the one thing worse than seeing all of my friends die, is the fact that I didn't."
"...Damn…"
"The Captain experiences an extreme case of survivors guilt on a daily basis, I ask that you exercise patience, Lieutenant. I also ask that you have a real discussion with Caleb. Make him understand your concerns and your...difficulty. He may be brash. But he is a good soldier, and a good man."
"Yeah...I'll do that. Thanks for the talk VC, I'll let you get back to...resting? Do you rest? Never mind, I'll see you around VC."
"I am hard to miss, Lieutenant. Have a good night."
Terra pat the Titan's leg before retiring to her quarters for the night.
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"How many did we lose?"
"Enough. Handful of pilots and a platoon of Infantry. Those fucking Marauder Corps Pilots tore them a new asshole out there."
"Shit...damn Militia...Well, I suppose there's a bright side...More loot for everyone else then. Tell me we got something else out of it though?"
"We grabbed about a dozen Militia officers from the colony itself. Couple pilots are with them."
"Have you started questioning them?"
"Yeah, been off and on with a couple of the troops."
"Good. Quicker we get this over with, quicker we can bug out."
"We can't keep doing this."
"What do you mean? You know the details, we get Militia troops, we question Militia troops, we kill who ever gets in our way, we get paid. It's a simple system."
"And how long until the Republic sends a strike team after us? You saw how hard those Militia bastards fought back there. They came too soon for it to be just an investigation. They know us now. We can't fight the Republic, the mainline IMC and Spyglass' Remnant Fleet all at once, it's suicide."
"We stay the course, we find that slippery son of a bitch, get paid and go home. That's the mission."
"We're gonna go home in body bags at this rate!"
"I'm not stopping. I'm never gonna stop until I see that bastard in front of me and complete the mission."
"So, what, we just keep scooping up Militia pilots until someone knows who em? You seem way too confident in scouring the entire goddamn Frontier for one person! We don't even know if he's ali-"
"He's alive."
"What makes you so sure?"
"Don't underestimate the Militia. Most of all, don't underestimate him. For all our sakes we better be prepared for a hell of a fight."
"Hope you have a plan then."
"There's more than one way to skin a cat, my friend. Change of plans. We'll draw him out."
"What do you have in mind?"
"Hold that thought, I've got to talk with the boss. Any idea where I can find-"
"Relieving some stress."
"...Understood...Poor bastards."
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A/N: Hey folks, hope you enjoyed. I know it's a pretty dialogue and exposition heavy chapter but there is a reason for that. Mainly I'm just not skilled enough a writer yet to get around this obstacle called context and weight. Personally, it felt too lazy to do a couple "cut to black" scenes to skip important information being absorbed by other main characters who weren't present during the first story. In a way I guess it also serves as a recap of the abysmal first book aha. The result was a pretty long chapter of talking. So, I do apologize if that's not really your thing and hope it doesn't put you off as we're really kicking off now.
It was also difficult to get this one out too. On the side, I've been brainstorming (for quite a long time now) about one or two original works I'd like to do, so that's been a colossal undertaking as well. That plus Strangers still being worked on because it has taken a serious back burn for a while now. Add in social life, work and general laziness. Big oof.
On a more story related note, I really hope everyone is fond of what's being done here character wise. This downed Caleb is something new I'm trying out, and probably not doing too great but I'm learning a lot. Wright at the moment has that positive naiveness that's more akin to Jack Carver from my other story. But, attitudes are susceptible to change. Barker I've always loved since the first campaign, so I'm trying to stay true to his character while also adapting this somewhat father figure motif for him and Caleb that was lost when MacAllan and Keller were killed. Iroh will get more love later, don't you worry - I've got something very special planned. VC is definitely a character who needs more time to shine so it's been a big objective to have him commonly on the forefront.
Anyways, thanks for reading guys. Really appreciate it. Already jumping on the next one, so stay tuned for that.
- The Dusty "Can't get more than one chapter out in less than a month" Scrub