06/15/2209, 11:52PM, (SETAD)Standard Earth Time and Date
Doctor Fawkes leaned back in her chair, sipping the cup of coffee that resided in her left hand. Her right hand was busy tapping away on a small data tablet on her desk, as she put in the finishing touches on her most recent report to Vice-Admiral Graves.
'Ah the Vice Admiral...ever a pain in my ass' Fawkes thought to herself, as she sent the report. A relieved sigh left her, as the tablet beeped in the 'affirmative' signifying the report was sent. 'Finally, maybe now I can take the day off-'
Beep-Beep! Beep-Beep!
'Or maybe not'
A quick glance back at her tablet and digital workstation, showed that Spyglass, the Vice Admirals little pet was calling. No doubt wondering about the condition of one of its experiments that Fawkes had been issued to handle, especially so if it was calling her directly. With a quick swipe of her finger, Fawkes answered the call, setting down her cup of coffee and standing up from her chair as she did so. A blue light emitted from her workstation, broadcasting a hologram of Spyglass. The slim Spectre's head looked up, and then down, as if peering at Fawkes like he was a higher life form.
"Doctor Andrea Fawkes"
Andrea winced internally at the usage of her full name in its dead monotone voice. "Spyglass, how may I help?" Fawkes answered back, keeping her voice cordial and respectful. Silently, she slipped her hands behind her back, as she maintained a professional stance.
"Statistics show, we are in a decline of fully trained and certified pilots. Solution. The Vice Admiral has suggested that we release the 'Second Generation' pilots back into the IMC, the task has fallen to me to order that of you."
Fawkes went silent, feeling her mouth part and drop for a moment before she quickly pursed her lips. "The Vice Admiral must know that I can only spare a couple, at most, is two. Wiping the memories and experiences of a Human Being, isn't as easy as a flip of a button." The Doctor protested.
"See to it that you release those two pilots, and then the rest when they are ready. You have three days."
And akin to a Sci-Fi villain altering a deal, Spyglass cut the transmission. Andrea Fawkes, stayed unmoving for a moment, registering everything that had just happened. Her focus came back to her, her hands reached for her tablet and her coffee. She needed to get to work, or it would be her head on the chopping block. "Computer, release patients, Fifty-Four and Nine-Eight-Nine, and do it fast."
"Understood. Releasing subjects 54 and 989, please stand six feet of distance from the habitat pods."
06/16/2209, 1:43AM, (SETAD)Standard Earth Time and Date
Life flooded into the eyes of young man, his grey irises darted around, as he slowly figured out where he was. Bright lights in the sky burned his vision, as he weakly craned his head to the side to try and hide from the light. He shut his eyes trying to hide from the burning glare, and when that didn't work, he attempted to raise his arm to block it out. Oddly enough, he found that his arm only flopped upwards awkwardly. Curiously, he opened his eyes and peered down at himself, noting his clean physique. His pale body was free of any kinds of abnormalities, aberrations, marks, scars, anything. It was a perfectly toned physique, sculpted almost, and it all felt unnatural. A quick look at his arm showed it was resting against his bare chest, immobile. Carefully, the man willed the tendons inside his arm to move, finding he was able to inch his arm down his chest, and move his fingers just enough to be able to squeeze them into his palm. Despite the strong body he wore, he felt weak beneath it, like a newborn made fresh into the world.
It all felt unreal, surreal and dreamlike.
"Good afternoon" A soft voice spoke up somewhere to his right, and instinctively, the unknown man looked over to his right. "Relax, I understand you may have a lot of questions right about now but hold them for a moment while I take a preliminary test to check your vitals, okay?" the voice spoke up. He could hear a chair, or something with wheels sliding against the floor, and the blinding light was muffled thanks to a body who he assumed to be hers being perched over him. His eyes adjusted, and he was able to make out the black button up shirt she wore, the white lab coat over it, and the ID tag. He read it slowly in his mind, registering her as Doctor Fawkes. He noted the small ID picture of her fair features, and short wavy blonde hair. The smile she had in the ID picture looked fake, like being told to smile instead of smiling out of happiness.
"Subject 989, is within acceptable parameters for vitals."
A robotic voice spoke up, its voice male and warm, clearly designed to relax anyone who heard it speak. It did little to relax.
"...well, Nine-Eight-Nine-" the woman spoke up, as she leaned back in her chair, the light flooded back in, but it was far more bearable now. "-how do you feel?" the doctor asked, as she produced her data tablet and looked at him, almost expectantly. He could make out her details now, where her curved nose started and ended, her furrowed brows, and icy blue eyes that were as cold and calculating as the room he was in. He felt unsafe under her scrutinous gaze, but at least now he had a name, something to call himself.
'Nine-eight-nine...'
He let the three numbers roll in his mind, before refocusing on the doctor. The man parted his lips, but all that would leave him was a croak. His voice was hoarse, his throat dry, speaking or making any kind of noise felt like rubbing sandpaper against sandpaper. He swallowed, as the doctor seemed to tap something down. "Lets try this...Give a nod if you feel fine, or a shake if you feel any kind of discomfort."
Nine-Eight-Nine shook his head.
"Physical weakness, foggy headedness I assume?"
A nod.
"I'll prescribe you some medicine to prevent any kind of inflammation and to help you recover the use of your limbs. Anything mentally? Are you seeing anything you feel is unusual, remembering anything, or feeling anything out of the ordinary?"
A shake.
"Don't worry about your lack of memories you'll receive a tablet much like mine once you resettle with the IMC that will bring you back up to speed on who you are, your real name, and what happened to you during service."
A confused look, and a weak eyebrow raise followed.
"I don't have access to your private and public life as a third-party medical associate, that's all on the IMC side thanks to the contracts you signed, back when you started your service in the IMC." The doctor clarified, before looking down at her tablet one more time before looking back at 989. "Lastly, is there anything else bothering you?"
A shake.
"Excellent, let's begin our physical assessment, and therapy. The process should take about three days to get you back on your feet and mobile."
06/21/2209, 10:10AM, (SETAD)Standard Earth Time and Date
The IMC Sentinel was a piece of modern technology, that still remained nothing short of impressive. Armed with facilities of all types, and a hanger that would make most carriers blush, the Sentinel was the workhorse of the IMC. Armed not just with state-of-the-art Hammond industry designed weapons, but with the proud men and women that served aboard it, all determined to take out the Colonial Militia.
Vice Admiral Graves stared long and hard at the holo map before him, his tired eyes twitching from staring for so long. With the barest hint of a sigh, he wiped his forehead and allowed himself a moment to blink. The Militia had recently snagged a high-profile individual, one who could spell the end of the war, and for the IMC specifically. But Graves knew the playbook, he knew what they needed next, and what they needed was Barker, an old Titan War veteran. Idly, Graves reached up with his right hand to his ear, where a small white device was settled. He pressed down on it, activating the radio, and specifically the private channel he was on. "Spyglass, have the Grunts on the field check his apartment again, and the bars in the center district, Barker leaves a stench wherever he goes and its about time we catch it." Graves spoke up, his voice low and gravely.
"Copy that, Vice Admiral. Running another scan for a Robert Taube, Barker."
"So, we're finally getting those second-generation pilots onto the field, heh, 'bout bloody time" Blisk stated, as he leaned against the side of one of the workstations aboard the IMC Sentinel's bridge. Blisk slid his knife free from its sheath on his chest, as he began to idly rub his fingers against the serrations testing the teeths sharpness. He glanced to his right, looking over at Graves, the Vice Admiral in charge of the IMC fleet. Currently, Graves was leaning over his console staring at the digital holo map of Angel City, watching the various ships that flew in and about the bustling metropolis.
"I would prefer a batch of fresh and experienced Pilots" Graves said, "But it's going to be a good long month before they get here, meaning we have to use every resource available to us. Spyglass has reassured me that these 'Gen two' pilots are better than the usual crop we get."
Blisk grinned, as he held out the knife watching it shine in the light. "Aye, but aren't we only getting a handful? What good is four or three, especially when we are sending pilots by the dozen?" He spoke up, glancing once more at Graves.
"Don't worry, Blisk. They will do for now."
Just as Blisk was about to retort, all hell broke loose. Alarms blared, and a red light was casted over the bridge of the IMC Sentinel. Graves pushed off the holo deck, stepping up beside Blisk at the front of the deck, and naturally Blisk stepped back sheathing his knife.
"Somebody tell me what the fuck is going on?" Graves called out loudly over the alarm.
"Sir! It's the Militia, they've started a ground assault in Angel City, the PDF is engaged in battle, but they're losing!" One of the crewmates shouted above all the chaos, a younger man with short brown hair peeked over his workstation from the upper deck behind Graves. "I'm reading an overabundance of Militia RFIDs in the AO, counting...a force of three hundred!"
"A battle of Attrition then, Blisk, I want every Pilot we got down there on the ground with the grunts, start sending them out the doors!" Graves ordered, as Blisk nodded, "Right away sir!" and with that the Mercenary started jogging away. Graves looked up, at the top deck of the bridge, "I want every man, woman and Spectre in here to monitor the assault, keep a lookout for any identifications with the name, 'Robert Taube' probably going by Barker, put a bounty out on him if you have too!" Graves ordered, and the resounding 'Yes Sir' that echoed throughout the room immediately built up the confidence needed for this flash operation.
Graves raised his left forearm up, and quickly turned on the communicator on his wrist. "Spyglass, I need you to handle Tac Ops for the pilots on the ground, including Titan support."
"Very well, Vice Admiral."
Graves closed the comms channel and stared at the holomap in the center of the room, his eyes narrowing as small red blips covered the streets. Before him, a battle raged in the streets, and yet all he could think about was how horribly this had gone ever since the Militia dug Macallen out of whatever hole he had crawled in. 'The same hole you slaughtered with Spectres as a field test' he swung his thoughts back to the mission. "Today's civilians is tomorrows Militia..." Graves silently said to himself, no softer than a whisper.
06/21/2209, 10:20AM, (SETAD)Standard Earth Time and Date
989 was acclimatizing quite well to his new life.
After the three days of slowly getting sensations, and feelings back to his body, and the ability to speak again he found life had become exponentially easier. According to Doctor Fawkes, he was in the best health a human could possibly be and was augmented to be better than the best. He had noticed fast what that entailed, things moved slower around him even when they weren't supposed to, and he found his hands and fingers seemed to move on their own at times almost like muscle memory was controlling them.
In short, 989 excelled in the Pilot Certifications and Titan Certifications.
Only in a matter of a few days, had he managed to enter the top 500's in the IMC leaderboards for Combat Ratings. Which, while might seem like an accomplishment, nobody quite cared unless you were around the fifties in the board. Otherwise known as the 'Apex' range as lead officer Kuben Blisk called it. The only thing that troubled 989 was his lack of a credentials, so far, he hadn't been handed any kind of tablet or even document containing his personal information. Which was as concerning as it sounded, but according to Doctor Fawkes, it should have been handed off to him by now from Blisk.
Speaking of Blisk...
"Oi! Pilot! Out from the sim-pod, the real fight is starting on the ground right now." came the muffled shout of that particular man, as the simulation 989 had been in promptly shut down. 989 shuddered, his body jittering as he was thrust back into the real world, and soon he was back in the sim-pod. Green lights blared in his eyes, slowly scanning over his body as a rush of air hit the pod and it felt like 989 hadn't breathed in a whole day. A cough left him, as the doors opened up and Kuben was waiting outside for him. As usual the merc was dressed in his ever-stylish white body sleeveless body armor, the red and shiny white glistened in the lighting as Blisk finished putting an earpiece into his ear.
"C'mon killer, you're the first Gen Two pilot going onto the field, want to make a good impression, eh?" he said, slapping the side of 989's arm before stepping away. "Follow me, I'll show you up to your new Titan, let you get your neural link up before we drop you." Blisk said, as 989 placed both of his gloved hands on either side of the pod. Slowly, he pulled himself out of it, and stepped off onto the metal floor of the training room. Multiple sim-pods were all around, all opened, whilst red lights blared from the ceiling. 989 didn't have much time to look around, as he quickly jogged to catch up with Blisk, and soon stepped out from the training room to a short hallway.
"You'll be working as a solo unit, no squad to back you up, but your job is more important than just helping the useless naffs on the field or searching apartments and bars. I am going to have you take the fight right to the Militia, for every pilot kill, a bonus to your paygrade, for every titan kill, instant creds right into your account." Blisk said, explaining the rules. 989 however, was more concerned with the sight before him.
A tall, almost lanky titan stood before him, armed with what looked to be a chaingun on the right arm, shoulder mounted rockets, and an odd module on the left slim forearm. A paintjob of white with blue stripes going down the middle, and two cameras one on the top, and one on the front of the middle chassis. The middle chassis itself was shaped like a square, no doubt for him to enter.
"Titan belonged to another pilot before they went rogue and joined the Militia, bloody traitor." Blisk explained, having noticed 989 staring at the Titan. "A custom Stryder, built for fast maneuvering, with an advanced body shield system. Nothing quite like it, which is why all we had to do was scrub the link that was left behind and give her a couple fixes. Go on, hop in, give her a spin, killer" Blisk said, almost excitedly.
As if on command, the Titan leaned down and opened its maw, exposing a pilot's seat inside along with several panels inside to manually pilot and control the titan. Taking in a deep breath, 989 stepped up to the Titan, before jumping up. His hands reached for the bottom of the cockpit, and he quickly pulled himself up, taking one good look at the interior before turning around and sitting down. His grey eyes watched as Kuben grinned at 989, and soon the cockpit closed.
"Protocol One, Link to Pilot"
Just as 989 was getting settled in, the feminine voice of the titan broke the atmosphere and sharp shock ran through his body and mind. Images of places, things, and people washed through his mind, and an exertion left 989 as he felt his body shudder at the overload of information. But the one thing that stood out, was a man, with green eyes, brown hair, and a charismatic smile, and a woman with bright red hair and brown eyes that looked almost doe like. Both were pilots, and both were very clearly in love with each other. Like watching a clip off an old recording, 989 only saw flashes of the two together, clearly captured from the neural link from the pilot, the redhead, and the titan itself.
But within a matter of seconds, it was over, the link was complete. The pain subsided and was replaced with a clear-headed sensation that left 989 almost in a state of serene calm, the images slowly faded into memory, becoming nothing more than blurred flashes of the past.
"Link complete, Hello Pilot Corrowind"
Awkwardly, 989 waved from inside the cockpit, his gloved hand aimed at the sensors ahead of him. Softly, he uttered the briefest 'Hello' as he could, his voice low and uncertain. Was that his name? Corrowind or a codename?
"Looks like you linked just fine, Pilot. Titan! Link new pilot credentials! Then, haul yourself and the pilot to the loading bay, you two are dropping down. And make sure you show him to the jumpkits, and armory, don't want him dropping down completely naked." Blisk said, getting a laugh out of himself as he stepped away to go make sure the other pilots and titans were getting ready. Grunts were already hitting the ground, now it was time for the rest of the cavalry to make their way there.
"Affirmative, Overriding pilot's credentials with new data...Hello Pilot, 989. New mission parameters received, stay inside my chassis 989, I will guide you to the armory."
989 didn't say anything back, his mind too focused on not just the mission ahead, but his newly discovered name. Maybe he really ought to pester Blisk about his document...
...but first, he needed to get his jumpkit, and his weapons. Seems like he was dropping right into the fray.