Chapter 6: Instructors and Ravens

Sighing out loud the base commander clamped her eyes shut and massaged them. Her mind slowly reeled from one of the most bizarre conversations of her life. Leaning back she spun her chair and stretched her arms and legs, melting away the tension that had slowly built up.

"May I have a seat?" A gentle voice questioned.

Mid stretch her eyes shot wide open, a young man innocently looked down at her while saluting. Judging by the pressed uniform and officer's hat she surmised that he was the superior of the other two. An unzipped flight jacket laid over a pale blue shirt, both of which extended slightly past his belt. Hanging from the belt a blue waist cape loosely wrapped around the side and back of his legs, leaving only the front of his pants exposed. Flowing alongside his navy blue pants the cape ended just above his deep brown arctic boots.

It was as if someone had cut a trenchcoat in half and fashioned it into a separate, but equally, stylish top and bottom. A pressed ribbon tie lay at the part of his collar, a pin on its knot held the seal of a compass needle over a constellation.

Contrary to popular fashion trends on Earth, drapey and looser clothing were far more appealing to the eyes of Terrans. Especially for Cascadians whose extreme cold weather would have otherwise necessitated simple and uniform jackets. Terran clothing had long been centered around customization and variety. It wasn't just the vaunted Armored Cores that emphasized modularity. The numerous layers had the added benefit of battling the frigid cold and ash storms that plagued the Cascadian homeland.

"Of course." She gestured towards the seat, caught slightly off guard.

Relaxing for a moment his eyes wandered to the large bookcase behind her, various models of heavy transport planes displayed proudly.

"And you are?" She asked, unable to decipher his rank from the shoulder patch.

"Field Lieutenant Rockwell, Northern Command." He extended his arm with a warm smile.

Returning his handshake she spoke. "Kazel Wright, Air Force. I'm the base commander for ISSWA. It's pronounced iz-wa by the way, people usually throw in an extra 'a' after the last 'S'. Sorry I didn't catch your branch, what was it again?" Kazel questioned.

"Ah, my bad. Northern Command 2nd Armored Training Group. I think the branch equivalent would be the Mechanized Corps? I'm not entirely sure how the old system translates to the new one. Haven't worked with National Defense in a while, forgot everyone else uses branch ID." Rockwell sheepishly smiled.

'"In a while?" Kazel questioned, perplexed for a moment.

"Oh…" Nervously he laughed.

"I uh. I'm a Crisis of Sovereignty recruit. Aurora Strait Skirmishes convinced me to join, there used to be a large contingent of NDef tactical bomber squadrons up there."

The end of the Continental War had forced Cascadia to answer some tough questions. Namely why their military, organized around command sectors based on geography, did so poorly by war's end. Each sector had complete authority over its troops, handling everything from recruitment to combat. While highly flexible, they proved fatally short sighted in the event of a multi front war.

By tailoring a soldier's training to their specific zone's needs, Cascadian soldiers were specialized in ways that didn't transfer well to other theaters or changing goals. Command zones played a fatal game of shuffle as they transferred out their own soldiers to reinforce another. Some zones elected to sacrifice their new transfers, veterans, in an attempt to plug up their hemorrhaging frontline; using the few precious moments of bought time to train new recruits. Others elected for the opposite. By war's end the majority of the Cascadian military had been thoroughly slaughtered, the number of dead had far exceeded what few survivors remained.

Recognizing the need for change, all but one command zone had been rolled under a unified command structure. Known simply as National Defense, or NDef, this organization reigned in the power of command zones and established dedicated military branches. While not as flexible as command zones, NDef's defensive capabilities far surpassed the old system. Such a tradeoff was welcomed in the years following the end of the Continental War. A period so tumultuous that the military went as far to encourage orphans to join its ranks. An army for a rainy day.

"Took me a while to adjust as well. Couldn't have botched the transition anymore if they tried." She nodded with sympathy.

'Poor boy.' She thought as her mind mulled over the early enlistment date.

"Oh you fought?"

Nodding her head she smiled, looking out the window for a brief moment. "Mhm… I used to fly heavies. Did a lot of combat landings up north when we relinked with Northern Command. I flew rocket assisted transports." Kazel's mind played over a few memories.

Sympathetic, yet awkwardly, he returned the gaze that she had been absentmindedly staring him down with. "Training accident, I've never fired a shot in anger." He sheepishly said.

A large eyepatch covered his right eye and then some. Four elastic bands secured it in place, two of which ran across his face, sandwiching a single brown eye. Black hair parted above his one good eye, wisps of hair softened his features. While the eyepatch grabbed many people's attention, it was the scarring and discoloration that Kazel had focussed on.

Spilling from the bottom of the eyepatch a band of discolored burnt skin streaked its way across the right side of his face. A shallow angle to the defaced skin carried it down his neck, disappearing under his collar. The damaged skin was somewhat darker than his normal medium to olive skin tone. Scarred skin pinched like cracked glass while tiny speckles dotted the off toned skin sparsely. Such spotting reminded Kazel of the severely burned Armored Core pilots who slowly melted to death in the back of her transport plane during the war. At the time, Armored Core ejections were always a tossup between extreme disfigurement or outright death.

"Do those zero zero ejection seats still have issues with all the fluid cords and canisters bursting?" Kazel questioned with a slight reminiscent look. Drawing a smile on the man's face opposite her.

"Thankfully, not anymore. Just my luck they finally replaced everything after this." He chuckled and pointed to himself, a slight but not uncomfortable silence followed after.

"Look, I'm just the base commander here, I've never piloted an IS before. So I'm not really sure how to help you. I don't handle any academic planning or course work. I read the document the other two gave me. I'm fine with accommodating your requests, but it would help to know what your goals are, Lieutenant."

Unhooking the latch from his messenger bag he fished out a stuffed plastic folder, laying it on the table with a gentle drop. Diving straight into the topic at hand.

"The Infinite Stratos Corps is in the midst of an identity crisis. Everyone has their own idea on how things should be. At present they operate somewhere along the spectrum of Armored Cores and helicopters. However-" He paused, handing Kazel multiple pieces of electronic paper.

"The Infinite Stratos is having an exceptionally tough time dealing, or even working, with Armored Cores during joint exercises… Which is a bit worrying since in theory they should share the space with an Armored Core, not fall heavily short of it."

"From personal experience, theory doesn't always hold up on the battlefield." Kazel voiced.

"While that may be true in certain cases, this is…Different."

Reading the electronic paper documents Kazel mused over the findings. For the past few years Northern Command had been instructed to silently evaluate Cascadia's fledgling IS Corps. Dubbed Operation Silent Vigil, NorCom's Armored Core pilots silently took the place of other AC pilots in exercises against their IS counterparts. The results painted a grim picture for Cascadian IS pilots as not a single one had managed to bring down a NorCom piloted Armored Core.

Kazel's eyebrows furrowed in disappointment at the table listing scores of simulated casualties. In one exercise a single Armored Core had managed to sim kill three IS pilots while leaving seven other combat ineffective.

"Can't argue with the evidence." Kazel mused out loud, rubbing the bottom of her chin as she scanned some graphs.

"Though this certainly supports the fact that the IS doesn't share a space with the AC in practice. Our pilots do routinely practice anti Armored Core tactics, we have a few AC pilots on base we train with. Though, this is pretty damning… I'm a bit skeptical though. Placing our pilots against yours, Northern Command, it's hardly fair. Right?" She continued.

"I'm not too sure about that, NorCom has plenty of new pilots. I've never seen combat myself, but as instructors we train our pilots very hard. We expect them to deal with veterans, aces, Ravens, Lynx and anyone else in any arena. The IS Corps also want to hold that standard. And we know that the IS as a platform is no pushover in that arena." He pulled out some more documents from the folder, his words drew confusion and interest on the commander's face.

Leaning forward the young man pushed some documents towards Kazel. Still reading the electronic paper report she blindly reached for the new items. The moment her fingers curled around the document her eyes darted to the strange feeling material. Real paper. A rarity on Terra, it had been decades since Kazel had touched paper let alone read handwriting. Her eyes widened while her mind took a moment to readjust itself to the new medium.

"What we see today isn't fully representative of the IS' full capability. Northern Command was testing out IS units before someone even dreamt up the IS Corps. All the test pilots were former Armored Core pilots. Those women put in some serious work, and they had the results to go with it. This was all years ago with a fraction of the budget and personnel of the IS Corps."

The document's handwriting was far from perfect, all the scratches and strikethroughs were abundant enough to break Kazel's flow. Yet she wasn't frustrated, instead she found herself deeply engrossed in what would have been an otherwise boring document had it been typed out. The in line edits and scribbled notes carried with it a certain aura, as if she could see the author's thought process.

"At the time the engineers didn't exactly know what they had their hands on. But the pilots were very interested in the IS, some of them even created their own joint AC IS tactics." The man said while Kazel looked over some hand drawn formations and battle tactics.

"In all fairness, I don't think anyone did. Everything was fast and loose back then." She turned a page towards him, showing a rough hand drawn sketch of a boxy and bizarre looking IS.

"They were experimenting. A lot." He smiled.

"It was a different time back then, it had a certain charm to it. Those days they had the free reign to solve problems however they wanted. I still remember the engineers and test pilots who modified our transports, constantly tinkering around with the wings and attachable rocket motors. They built real things, tested them in real life and actually delivered them to us quickly. None of it was ever a hypothetical model dreamt up in some random computer simulation that's never going to see the light of day."

"I take it that you aren't a fan of the IS development process?"

"No. Not really. Of course my opinion isn't really worth much. But still… Things are a lot slower and methodical. I get it, but eventually it would be nice to see someone do literally anything."

"Initiative." Rockwell nodded.

"Exactly! I hate comparing or jumping down their throats, but the women here play it way safer than I ever did… And I fought in a war." Exasperated, Kazel flipped through a few more hand drawn charts. "Can't say I blame them entirely." She reluctantly granted.

The supply of young Cascadian women who could turn on an IS, let alone pilot it, were in perpetual short supply. All it took were a few high profile deaths for the IS Corps to immediately demand higher safety standards, setting the tone for Cascadian IS research and development.

"So what changed? The pilot compatibility scores here are lower than the students on base. We obviously had some very talented pilots here. Two pages ago there were anti AC tactics being theorized. Pretty interesting one's I'd assume." Kazel waved a paper lightly, the side of her head leaned against her index finger. "Where'd all the lessons go?"

Leaning back, the Armored Core pilot relaxed.

"For the same reason that the majority of Constant Pierce's tests were conducted in the dead of night during the worst blizzards of the year. Secrecy. On paper the operation was about testing the Infinite Stratos. In reality it was dissimilar combat training, how to beat the IS. Constant Pierce helped us understand how an AC would fight an IS. But more importantly, how an IS fought an AC. Naturally what we learned couldn't be declassified. At the time the IS Corps didn't even exist. If war broke out on Earth, it'd be our job to fight the IS in open combat."

"Yours?"

"Ah. Well you see… I'm an instructor…For Northern Command. I finally got my pilot's certification right when those tests ended, but I was a simulator pilot before that. Thankfully the IS Corps came around soon after and relieved us." The man said with a disarming smile.

The words on the paper suddenly felt much darker than the ink that had been used to write them, its message had changed to something else entirely. One of utter desperation, yet there were hints of defiance scattered in between the lines of black ink. It was as if Northern Command had once again prepared to dig its heels in, to hold the line no matter the cost.

"Circling back to your point about this generation of pilots. They're all fantastic pilots, and people, in their own right. But across the board there's a lack of understanding when it comes to Armored Cores." He voiced.

Kazel met his single eyed gaze, despite the age she saw an unmistakable look. A look that reminded her of the fanatical Northern Command officers during the war. Whatever training her fellow serviceman went through, it seemed that nothing had changed since the old days.

"I take it that Northern Command thinks they can make them veterans without having to put them through an actual war?" She gave a pained smile, already knowing the answer.

"There's a lot of theory floating around, someone just has to put them on the right track. I can't make them battle hardened veterans, but I can get them close."

"Lieutenant, I know you and Northern Command mean well, but a lot of the instructors here are veterans from the war. I don't know how it works with Armored Cores, but when you get too old or injured to fight they usually push you up a few ranks. The pilots on the ground may be young, but the staff aren't. How much more institutional experience is needed? I don't mean to sound rude, but what can someone who's never seen war teach us?"

Hesitating for a moment he tried to piece together a diplomatic answer to no avail. Picking up on it Kazel offered him a look to speak candidly.

"I mean this in the most respectable way possible, but being an instructor is more than just surviving a war and coming back to share what you learned. It has to be the right experience and lessons. You're right, I never fought in the war. Or any war. But I come from a place where all the lessons about Armored Cores are institutional, not theoretical. It's the best experience you can get short of joining a war. Northern Command still trains like it did before the war, we're experts at fighting the threats we know we'll face. And I'm here to teach you how to fight your enemies today, so that you can deal with tomorrow's threats on your own." Rockwell emphatically argued.

Lightly Kazel nodded her head as she mulled over the words. Thinking back to her own pre war training she compared it to what the students on her base were put through. She recalled the numerous training exercises designed to simulate heavy combat conditions, so intense that it wasn't uncommon for soldiers to leave the exercises a little shaken. While the exercises had matured the recruits of her generation, the practice had been thoroughly banned following the end of the Continental War.

"Like I said, I don't have any control over the students or their curriculum. I can't-"

"I'm here to teach your instructors, not your students." He interrupted.

For a moment Kazel sat in silence. Mulling over the words before realizing the angle that Northern Command had intended to work. Unable to control herself she cracked a smile.

"Glad to see NorCom is just as weasley as it was back in the day. Yeah, I can set aside a few instructors for you."

"I'm happy to hear that, and I'm happier to see that you don't object to my presence."

"Not like I have a choice Lieutenant, even at my rank I still have orders to take." Kazel pointed to an electronic paper document left by the two soldiers before him.

"Even so… It's nice to meet someone from Northern Command after all these years. It doesn't seem like much has changed, which I don't mind at all, you remind me of some brief friends I had during the war." She continued.

"I get that a lot, I'm a living picture apparently. On the plus side, I get a lot of drinks for free." Rockwell laughed along with Kazel.

Plugging in a plastic card into her computer Kazel tapped her fingers while waiting for a moment. The young man opposite her began to collect his precious documents, taking great care to preserve the handwritten ones. Pulling out the plastic card she strung a lanyard through it and slid it over to the man.

"You'll need this to get around most of the base. All IS equipment and facilities require a Site Secured Clearance, seems you were pre approved. I hope you're able to change things for the better Lieutenant, I really mean that. If you ever need anything, don't hesitate to reach out." Kazel said while standing up.

Before the young man could salute her she extended her hand, giving him a friendly and hearty handshake.

"There's an exercise between some and an Armored Core tomorrow, I think It'll be worth your time Lieutenant."

"That would help a lot. Thank you for making this as painless as possible, General."

"Kazel works just fine. We don't have to keep up formalities in private."

Nodding, Rockwell paused for a moment.

"Jean, my first name's Jean."

Yawning, a young woman in a black flight suit rubbed her bleary eyes as the sounds of machinery whined around her. From inside her cramped cockpit she craned her head and stared at an obscured figure on the platform above her.

Typing away at a laptop a young blonde haired man ran multiple diagnostic tests. Thick cables ran from his laptop into the blocky head of the Armored Core below him. Satisfied with the results he shut down his computer and yanked the cables from the Armored Core. From her cockpit Leah pulled the plug on three braided white cables and threw it at the man above her, flailing his arms he caught it with little grace.

"That's why you're not allowed in here." She chuckled.

Placing his hand over his heart Roland shook his head in faux offense. "So cruel."

Laughing he packed the obscenely expensive cables into an even more expensive box.

"What's the parameters for today?" Leah asked while fastening a sweatband over her head.

"Didn't you read the report I wrote yesterday?"

"You know I never read those. Besides, they're meant for some desk jockey, not me."

"Yes, yes. You've made that abundantly clear when we registered." Roland smirked. "Nothing special, just normal training with the IS students. Elimination like always."

"Boring!" Leah drew out while jamming her head into the tight fitting helmet.

"Well if you beat your best time we get a bonus. Which speaking off, when was the last time you got us one?"

"Slave driver." She laughed to herself as the helmet clicked into place, muffling her words.

Reclining, Leah stared back at her operator and flashed a thumbs up at him. For a moment the two communicated in sign language. Receiving an all clear, Leah at last reached forward and turned a knob. Holding it all the way the cockpit began to slowly move backwards, encasing her into the core of the Armored Core. A low red light illuminated the cramped cabin as the cockpit clamped shut.

From her left she pulled down a small tray with a binder full of plastic pages. Running through the checklist she flicked all manner of switches before inputting a few commands into a terminal. A large screen inside the diamond shaped core came to life, displaying multiple heads up displays at the bottom of the screen. Camera feed from the AC's head unit began to broadcast live video into her cabin screen. From above, an angled roof screen glowed as it began to stream additional information and camera angles.

"Raven 1-1 standby for local power transfer. Begin final synchronization readbacks." Roland's voice buzzed over the radio.

Running through the last few entries of the checklist the two verified that the Armored Core was both sending and receiving information correctly. While Leah was in the cabin of her AC, her operator, Roland, was far off in a secured bunker. With his own multi screen setup he was able to carry out his duties as an operator, to quickly and accurately give her mission critical information.

"Raven 1-1, callsign Gambit, ramp clear, gate clear. Clamps disengaged, cables disengaged. Cleared for locomotive departure. Thrust power authorized at pad thirteen."

"Ground, Gambit. Departure cleared, thrust power authorized at point thirteen." Leah confirmed back.

Using her left leg Leah slowly depressed a pedal. Slowly her lumbering Armored Core began to walk, shaking the ground with each step. No thrusters could be fired off inside the enclosed hangar. Ground crew kept their distance as Flip Side stomped its way to the designated launch pad. Despite the hefty thumps, Flip Side was considered one of the lighter to mid weight Armored Cores.

Its reverse jointed legs resembled that of a chicken's, while the horizontally shaped diamond core looked as though it could deflect incoming rounds by itself. Though on the smaller end of Armored Cores, it was hardly armed as such. Leah equipped her passed down war machine with a shotgun and a machine gun that fired rifle caliber rounds. Like most other Ravens she filled the back of her AC with defensive systems. A single heavy flare pod complimented a small gatling gun on the other side, the ultimate last line of defense. Custom side boosters adorned the skinny arm units of the Armored Core's shoulder.

Where Leah's AC may have not had the impressive technology of her Lynx counterparts, she more than made up for it in raw speed and maneuverability. Flicking a few switches in the older generation cockpit, multiple whines echoed as turbines slowly gained speed. The RPM counter of her generator slowly climbed before a light turned green much to her satisfaction.

"Ground, Gambit. Generator and reactor levels at neutral idle. Master arm on. Defensive countermeasures on. Primary FCS enabled and set to uncaged. Standing by for launch." Leah reported while her AC rumbled excitedly.

"Roger Gambit. Good reads on my end. Fights on!" Roland yelled.

Hearing the words Leah immediately jammed the foot pedal burned to life as she jolted forward in her harness. Old and rugged, Flip Side didn't need to be hand held.

"Gambit, new picture. Three boge-. Correction. Six bandits at your 12 o'clock. RWR is clear, no jamming or countermeasures detected."

"Type?"

"Unknown, confirm with VID." Roland responded, asking for visual identification.

Small triangles in Leah's screen changed to a green box, at the center of it a small smudge slowly grew in size. The sound of a lock whined in her ear as one of the boxes turned red. Smirking, Leah held her fire, moments later she shattered the thin line of IS units. Pressing a button on her joystick she flared every airbrake, a side thruster spun her AC a full hundred and eighty degrees.

Pulling her trigger Leah tore into the IS squad with machine gun fire, striking one of the units with deadly precision. Cursing, the victim struggled to return fire as bright flares burst from the red AC, the auto tint in her visor darkened. Unable to clearly see she soared for the gray sky, leaving the Armored Core's firing arc.

"VID?" Leah yelled into her helmet.

"Model 42s. Hummingbirds. Careful, those rockets will shred you." Roland responded calmly.

While the simunitions fired by the Infinite Stratos pilots couldn't scratch the paint off a car, Leah was firing anything but simunitions. The IS units could soak the damage for cheap, the unshielded Raven couldn't.

Pink paint burst in the air as Flip Side's gatling gun hungrily searched the sky for incoming rockets. Skating in a tight pattern Leah put herself at the center of all six IS pilots. Lining up a shot one of the Cascadian women swore as the Raven quick boosted away, leaving only a friendly IS unit in her sights. Using a series of air brakes and clever quick boosts Leah positioned herself behind the frustrated woman. Squeezing the trigger she unloaded multiple shotgun rounds into the IS unit, dumping flares twice during the maneuver. Within seconds Leah disengaged and boosted to the side while raking the white landscape with machine gun fire.

Try as they might, the IS pilots were blocked from creating new formations. Every time they tried to regroup, machine gun fire would catch the slowest one of the batch. Forcing the squad of six to scatter. Jamming the foot pedal, Leah streaked towards the flight of IS units. Raising her machine gun Leah unloaded a stream of bullets followed by a hail of shotgun rounds. The high velocity rounds found their mark, taking two IS units out of the fight once their shields hit a meager twenty five percent.

From the corner of her eye Leah saw an icon glow. Flip Side officially lacked a rearward facing radar, but the back mounted gatling gun's targeting system supplemented the need for one. Slamming both foot pedals, Leah chained multiple forward quick boosts. Her older generator and reactor may not have been able to overboost, but that didn't stop her from getting creative. Putting distance between her and the four remaining IS units she twisted her joysticks. Thrusters whirled her AC around while momentum carried her away from the IS units, giving her an opportunity to squeeze off a few machine gun bursts.

"Quick boost left now!" Roland's voice loudly came over her headset.

Instinctively she reacted, throwing the red AC to the left. Narrowly avoiding the uneven terrain. Thanking him she digested the quick information concerning the uneven terrain she was gliding over. Flip Side may have been light, but it was never designed for extended flight or perpetual hovering. It still needed to touch the ground every once in a while.

A warning suddenly rang out in Leah's cockpit. Repeating with alternating tones. Roland's voice came in over the radio system hard and fast.

"Dazzlers, evade!"

Fanning out, the flight of four IS units split into an attack formation Leah had never seen before. Two went high into the sky, while the remaining two glided over the tundra like ground. Rocket fire began to bore down from high on up. Boosting away Leah smirked with glee as the gatling gun on her back shredded both simunitions before they even had a chance to hit the ground. Any further celebration was cut short however, two high velocity rounds slammed into her machine. Paint coated the arm with the machine gun, within seconds multiple computers and staff went to work simulating the damage.

"Took a hit! Took a hit! Status!"

"Two rounds, high velocity. Reduced effectiveness on your right arm."

"How bad."

"Elbow joints are screwed. It's mainly isolated to the horizontal axis though. There's some give with the shoulder but it's not much. You'll have to treat it like a back gun." Roland quickly observed from a screen of simulated error reports.

Spinning her AC in place, Leah applied full throttle to get some distance. Despite her best efforts, rocket fire began to chase her from high above.

"These damn rockets. How the hell are they so accurate?" Leah grunted as she spun ninety degrees and boosted.

"They have to be getting targeting information somehow, they're firing too quickly to be naturally aiming from that high up… Data sharing?" Roland wondered aloud.

Launching a spectrum analyzer, Roland ran the past few minutes of intercepted radio communications through a program. A smattering of waves appeared on a readout, the radio communications resembled that of a fuzzy caterpillar. Quickly he correlated the encrypted data with some other time measurements.

"Data sharing! They're using normal radio communications. I think the one's on the deck are doing most of the talking."

"What? Shouldn't it be the other way around?" Leah questioned her operator.

"You were intercepting their radio comms everytime you passed by them. The time and signal choppiness line up." Roland proudly deduced, completely unaware at the annoyed gaze cast at him.

'That doesn't make sense… Why would the two on the ground-' Leah's thoughts were interrupted by a wail of a warning tone.

"Dazzler locking on at your 270!" Roland shrieked as the red Armored Core turned and boosted aggressively. Breaking the lock on the laser designator.

"There's less dimensions to worry about down on the deck!" Leah observed.

"You're right! They don't need to worry about elevation angles from down there. I'm keying your flares for extended burn and hang time."

Skating multiple figure eight patterns, flares trailed the red Armored Core as it danced across the ground. To the pilots above it looked like a sea of floating fire, submerging everything under it with a bright glow. A strangely beautiful sight, it was anything but that for their squad mates on the deck. The sky above them was a patchwork of gray and fiery orange yellow. At various heights, flares clung to the gray sky like lanterns, dripping columns of light obscured their vision and targeting equipment. From a glowing pillar Leah darted out, firing a few rounds before disappearing behind the fiery veil.

Peering down her scope, an IS pilot silently stalked the AC that chased her squadmate. Turning off the laser designator on her heavy rifle the woman manually tracked Leah, waiting for the perfect moment. Steady fingers rested on the trigger guard as her eyes refused to blink. From the corner of her visor she watched the gunsight lead indicator in front of Leah approach her crosshair. With exceptional reaction time the woman squeezed the trigger twice. Two loud bangs echoed through hazy columns of flares. A splash of paint smashed into Flip Side's shoulder thruster, forcing it offline. Moments later a warning blared in Leah's ear as rocket fire rained down on her.

Twisting the control sticks harder, Leah compensated for the simulated battle damage. However she refused to disengage. She was in the grove, fighting toe to toe with one of the IS pilots. Hungrily she searched for the right opening. Every few moments a fleeting flash would streak across her amber targeting boxes. Disappearing and breaking the lock just as fast as it came.

Circling tightly against Leah, the IS pilot did her best to avoid the red AC's firing arc. Bobbing up and down she aimed her heavy rifle at the much larger war machine, tagging it with a laser. Every once in a while she'd fire off a few shots, the heavy recoil pushing her back each time. Switching with her other teammate she glided wide, raising her gun she prepared to fire the moment she saw the back of the red AC. Suddenly the AC spun in place, firing off a burst and quickly turning away. Caught in a wide turn, multiple large caliber rounds struck the much smaller IS. The impacts threw her a good distance, stressing the inertial dampeners on the IS suit. Violently the woman tumbled towards the ground, her world spun like a washing machine, recovering she attempted to get her bearings. The wasted time proved fatal as she felt multiple dampened thuds against her back. A few streaks of yellow flashed across her shoulders, disappearing into the rolling snow white hills.

Her visor quickly lit up. Minimum Shield Health. Disengage.

Tracer fire licked the sky as the gatling gun on Flip Side whined unemotionally, targeting and unloading a torrent of fire at anything that dared to harm its pilot. Leah's eyes darted across her cabin as she split her focus across two different IS units, completely ignoring the third. Noticing the dwindling shotgun ammo she gritted her teeth, the plastic mouthguard saved her tongue during a high G maneuver.

Diving from above an IS pilot blazed through the fiery clouds, punching a clear hole through the haze. Strafing to the side for the briefest of moments she pre aimed at a designated spot displayed in her visor. With astonishing reaction time the woman compensated for Leah's movements, quickly she fired a shot and zoomed for the sky. Tearing through the air the warhead smashed violently into the dirt. As quick as the IS pilots were, Leah was faster.

Repeatedly the IS pilots dived in and out between the flares, firing a shot that just barely missed each time. Frustratedly, Leah tussled with the sole IS pilot on the deck who proved to be quite the handful. Keeping her distance the cunning IS pilot leaned and flew clockwise circles around Leah, forcing her to rely on the damaged arm with the machine gun. Anytime Leah tried to turn into her opponent, anti clockwise, the IS pilot would abruptly pitch and reverse course. The sudden maneuver was simply too much for the damaged arm of the red AC.

"You're running out of flares, you have only five more bursts left." Roland's voice shocked Leah out of her concentration.

Grunting Leah acknowledged as she refocused her attention to the particularly skilled pilot who had been making a mockery of her attempt to get guns on target. Numerous calculations ran through Leah's head as she analyzed the blue IS unit's movements, a fraction of a second later she settled on a plan. Pressing her foot down she sped towards the agile blue Infinite Stratos. Working her control sticks she expertly flared her air brakes, violently the Armored Core spun into the IS's flight path. Leah's body smashed into the side cushioning of her seat, her neck strained while her muscles screamed in agony. Yet her sharp eyes were glued to the screen as she waited for the perfect opportunity to strike, a moment so minute that a single blink would have caused her to miss it.

'Just a little closer you rat. Just a little-' Finding her opening Leah viciously pounced.

From her cockpit Leah observed her blue rival begin her pitch skyward. For the briefest of moments the IS pilot committed on a short, but high vertical G curve. Belling out at an apex. Leah's trigger fingers snapped back, shotgun fire blanketed the sky. With no room to maneuver, multiple rounds pummeled the pilot. Staggered, she was given no respite as a machine gun fire slammed into her. Frustratedly, the woman yelled as an all too familiar message popped up. Banking away she left her subordinates to the mercy of the sole Raven.

"Yes!" Leah excitedly exclaimed.

"Good kill! Good kill!" Roland's voice confirmed. "Don't forget about the other two."

"Yeah yeah, I'm not an idiot. I can count you know!" Leah quickly responded, smiling at the muffled laugh from the other end.

Dumping the rest of her flares, the pod ejected multiple tubes into the sky. The successive launches reverberated like a muffled auto cannon. Down for the count on teammates and with no onboard radar, the pair of IS units in the sky were forced down below the glowing sea of flares. There was hardly any room for error, and Leah had made sure to punish them for every tiny mistake they made. Skilled as they were, they paled in comparison to the pilot that Leah had just vanquished. Every rocket they fired was slapped away by the accursed gatling gun on the red mech. Defanged, they were left paralyzed on what to do. Repeatedly Leah boosted from side to side, making herself a harder target while closing in. Frantically the two IS pilots tried to line up a shot to no avail, neither could track Leah at such close distances.

One moment she was in their view, the next moment she wasn't, leaving only the cool early morning in her wake. Leah's computer assisted gun controls, however, were more than capable of keeping up with the small and nimble IS units. Using her joysticks she moved two, rather generous, superimposed targeting boxes across her screen. Twisting the control stick Leah aggressively spun to keep a much smaller green box inside the amber box. Thrusters on Flip Side burned angrily while its computers ferociously made extreme fine tune calculations every second. With blistering speed the joints on the Armored Core's arm shifted, contorted and swung out, automatically leading the target outlined by the green box. In an instant the box turned red. Lock on.

Squeezing the trigger, Leah unloaded a burst of shotgun rounds towards her target. A heavy cluster of incoming rounds swatted the smaller IS unit, sending its pilot into a twirl. Machine gun fire found its mark and chewed up what little shield points were left.

"Good kill! One remaining! You've got this, you're making good time! Really good time!" Roland yelped as he jumped from his chair.

Leaning closely at his terminal he frantically looked for anything he could do to help his partner. Yet the constraints of the exercise had blocked any further involvement from his side. All he could do was sit and agonizingly watch while Leah handled everything. With wide eyes he bit his nails while leaning in closely. Nervously he watched her shotgun's ammunition counter.

Leah's attention had never been more focused on her cockpit screen before, her fingers expertly tapped and squeezed away at the control sticks. Her eyes stung as sweat dripped from the already soaked sweatband. But none of it mattered as she slowly outmaneuvered her opponent. With a wicked grin Leah drew lead on the sole IS pilot. Out of shotgun ammo, all that remained was the machine gun mounted on the damaged arm. Unable to swing the arm horizontally, she spun her entire AC and brought the amber targeting box over her target. A tight reticle appeared, representing the limited articulation of the machine gun. Twisting the joysticks she hovered the reticle just in front of the target, the onboard gun computer sent data at lightning pace to the Armored Core's shoulder. Despite the limited articulation, the shoulder automatically moved ever so slightly, carrying Leah the rest of the way as it gave her a positive firing solution.

Short and controlled bursts flashed all over the IS unit. It took only a few seconds for minor corrections to yield immediate results. Gunfire tore into the sole remaining IS pilot, spinning around she attempted to get a final shot off. Minimum Shield Health. Disengage.

"Gambit 1 knock it off. Knock it off!" Roland said with a merry sing-song voice.

"Gambit 1 knocking off…" Releasing one of the control sticks Leah flipped a few switches with her free hand.

I told you! I told you!" Leah excitedly cheered the moment the communications channel went private.

"That gatling gun saved so much energy! Wait! The time, what was the time! That had to have been a new record. No way in hell it wasn't." Leah excitedly yelled into her helmet.

Proudly Roland leaned into his mic with a wide smile. "Thirteen minutes and four seconds. You just blew everyone else's record." He cheered her on.

Hands in pockets, the man who stood quietly behind Roland slowly made his way to the back of the room. Reaching for the inside of his jacket he caught himself, thinking better he clasped his hands. Having finished a quick conversation, Kazel made her way towards him. Taking a seat on the rolling chair next to him.

"What's that all about?" He flicked his head towards an overly enthusiastic Roland.

"Well he's an operator and she's a pilot. Isn't it obvious?" She smirked.

Rolling his eyes Rockwell shook his head in an exaggerated fashion.

"The AC pilots here track how long it takes to finish the exercises. Judging by how fast that was, I'm guessing it's some kind of big deal. Probably helps her rankings somehow. That and he's just a really sweet guy."

Rubbing the bottom of his clean shaven chin Rockwell stared at the floor for a moment.

"Must be a Raven thing, never heard of a Lynx doing that…By the way, why... Why mercs? It's not like we don't have any AC pilots left in Cascadia."

Leaning back Kazel sighed, resting both arms on the arm rest she swung her chair to face him.

"Don't take this the wrong way Lieutenant, Northern Command's great and all, but your brass are a nightmare to work with. Every request I've put in for some instructors has been denied. I can only do so much before I have to look elsewhere."

"What about the Mechanized Corps?"

Quietly Kazel gave a muted chuckle, taking a deep breath she let it out. Receiving a questioning side eye from the man next to her she leaned in and whispered.

"Come on Lieutenant, neither of us are exactly new to this. No one's going to the Mechanized Corps for experienced pilots. They're great people, really they are. But asking for their good instructors or pilots is like demanding water from a person dying of thirst."

"But why mercenaries? They're-"

"Because they're experienced, they may have shitty morals, but they have more combat experience than anyone else. Believe me I'd rather work with our own. But any pilot or operator with an iota of skill or experience is hidden behind NorCom and NDef's veil. Apparently we don't have pilots to spare. And if I'm being honest that bothers me more than having to use mercenaries…" Sighing, Kazel leaned back in her chair, sipping her coffee as she took a mental break from everything.

Biting the inside of his mouth the lieutenant crossed his legs and pulled out a metal flask from the inside of his jacket. Downing its contents he scowled at the over joyous and oblivious Raven operator.

A/N: This chapter took way to many rewrites to get out. But its finally here. And finally with it a lot of the setup has been completed on the Armored Core side of things. Things can finally get rolling.

Blackout42: I'm glad to have inspired someone, especially since you wrote a massive AC crossover. I still remember seeing your artwork on the AC/DDLC subreddits. Small world.

As always, I own neither Infinite Stratos or Armored Core. Comments, questions and concerns are always appreciated.