A/N: Hello everyone. It feels like 2024 has only started, and we've lost so many great people so far. From Carl Weathers, to Akira Toriyama, Tarako Isono. Toriyama's DBZ made a big impact on me growing up. When I watched the show on Toonami, it was my very first dip into Shounen anime.
I was going to go longer with this chapter, but I decided it was going to be better in terms of pacing to cut it where it is/
Everyone went through decontamination procedures upon returning to base, given that there was exposure to Kojima Particles. Blood draws were taken from every member of the Third Squadron in preparation for a full blood count procedure. Arthur had his own blood drawn for the checks. A tense hour had passed when Maggie appeared, with a slight smile on her face as she looked at the members of Third Squadron.
"After a quick once-over, I'd say you all have a clean bill of health," she said. "Just let me know if you're feeling dizzy or faint."
Her expression turned a bit more serious when she looked at Arthur, and she said, "I'll need you to stay behind, handsome. There are a few things that I want to talk about."
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Arthur sighed, "Yeah, that figures."
"Hey, now. Don't be like that," Maggie said, a bit more playfully. "If it helps, consider this getting to know each other."
Betty looked to the rest of the Third Squadron and ordered, "Alright, girls. Report to the squad room."
The Third Squadron filed on out, leaving Arthur with Maggie (plus a still-comatose Naomi in Intensive Care).
"Well, I don't have a baseline to work off of with you. This should be interesting," Maggie said.
"Say what's on your mind, doc," Arthur muttered, impatiently.
"In a second – I'll have to have you do a brief physical. Weight, lungs, heartrate, blood pressure…all the fun stuff," Maggie said. "Let's start with the scale inside."
Maggie was nearly floored by what she saw on the scale. Arthur was just shy of six feet in height, and his physical build didn't suggest he weighed much more than 74.2 kilograms…the scale was saying a different story, though. He weighed nearly double that, and the cybernetics in his back alone could not have accounted for the extra weight.
"That's…odd," Maggie said. "I guess that means you're in for more testing."
The X-Rays scans revealed something unusual – his skeleton didn't contain bone material, at all. Or, at least, not completely. If she had to guess, the surface of Arthur's skeleton was plated with some form of boron-carbon ceramic – the type you'd see in ballistic vest plating. It would account for the extra weight, along with the complete lack of microfractures in the skeleton.
"Um…handsome?" Maggie asked.
"Yeah?"
"What, exactly, is plating your skeleton?"
"I…well, I can't really tell you," Arthur said.
"Look, Jill and I go back a long way…and she's told me of your situation," Maggie reassured him. "I take it that it's a package deal with becoming a LYNX?"
"Bingo," Arthur confirmed. "A LYNX is put under a lot of G-Force when piloting a NEXT, so our bodies go through a series of surgical augmentation and gene therapy to maximize durability in the field. Chemical vapor deposition is used to coat bone surfaces of a LYNX with boron carbide. As for nervous system enhancements, gene therapy added some more myelin sheaths to my nerve cells – I'm not really sure how it all works, but the result is that nerve signals travel faster to and from my brain through the body."
"More myelin sheathes means more nerve conduction velocity," Maggie said, unexpectedly clinical in her assessment.
"Whatever. In a NEXT, this offsets the extra time that the operating system would take feeding data into my brain to resemble something more akin to a normal human response. But it has its benefits, too," Arthur said.
"Mmmhmm…" Maggie trailed, standing up and taking a few steps away from him. Arthur immediately noted that she was reaching inside a cabinet for something cylindrical and metal.
"Think fast," Maggie said, and Arthur processed a beer can flying right towards him.
He just reacted, moving his hand up to catch the can right before it could hit him in the face.
"So, in other words, when you're on foot, your reaction speed is freakishly fast," Maggie concluded. "You're just full of surprises."
"I guess so," Arthur said, holding the can to his ear to listen for the fizz to settle. "I still didn't appreciate that."
"Fine. I'll make it a whiskey bottle, next time…"
"Grr. Let me guess: you were going to bring up my elevated follistatin levels?"
Arthur's specialization was in mercenary work, not biology. He did, however, know that myostatin was a protein that naturally occurred in mammals, and essentially introduced a cap on muscle growth. He also knew that follistatin competed with myostatin for specific receptors. The upshot is that, with elevated levels of follistatin, muscle growth was effectively unshackled.
"With levels as high as yours, you could easily pack on three times as much muscle as you already have," Maggie said. "But my main area of concern is the lower-than-average leukocyte count in your blood sample. Tell me about the effects of Kojima Contamination as you understand them."
"It's similar to standard cases of Acute Radiation Syndrome, from what I've read. A LYNX – the number 7 Original - died about two years back from Kojima Poisoning. It wasn't pretty – the high fever and seizures were the least of his worries," Arthur said. "I typically carry radioprotector tablets with me, but I've been out of stock since we were pulled over. It only makes sense that I'd end up with minor leukopenia."
"If I were you, I'd get it addressed," Maggie said. "No sense being put into bed easily – I have the equipment needed for blood transfusions and a few other things."
"Forget it. Save them for your actual base personnel," Arthur declined. At her somewhat dumbfounded expression, he added, "I'd guess that Jill told you about my mercenary status – fully expendable."
"Stubborn. Must be a male thing…" Maggie trailed. "If you're going to skip out, at least check with Jasmine. She might be able to find radioprotector for you in her inventory – it may not be as good as whatever you used, but it will be better than just vodka and prayers."
"That, I can do," Arthur said, cracking the can of beer open before downing it in one sitting. "Just keep your girls in good shape…and try to keep Naomi alive. I'll figure something out."
After Arthur left, Maggie immediately went for her hidden liquor cabinet. She didn't know what to think. The young man was stubborn – more so, maybe, than Jill. For a merc, Arthur seemed surprisingly self-sacrificing. Either that or was just that confident. Maggie didn't like the implications of either possibility.
Arthur got himself cashed out for the bounties, and Jill paid him, as promised. He didn't exactly get the lion's share of kills, but he got the majority of the bounty rewards – Galleon-Class DRAGONs paid very well. It was more than enough to buy back the rest of his equipment. Per Maggie's suggestion, he also looked into buying some radiation protection drugs.
The ones Jasmine had in stock were coming close to the end of their shelf life, but were still viable – potassium iodide, good for protecting the thyroid from radiation exposure. There were a few injectable radioprotective drugs that Arthur didn't recognize that were meant to be taken after exposure, but they were supposedly best-in-class for the purpose.
All of the parts – as well as the medicine – set Arthur back a significant amount, even after he haggled down the price of his NEXT parts. Of course, his repair and ammo costs didn't help with that – he was almost completely down to just what he already had in savings. He figured it was time to dismount one of his rifles and add the laser blade to save on costs.
He got the work order in, then packed his belongings and dropped them off in his room. Cleaning himself up in the showers, he injected himself with the post-exposure radioprotective drug and gathered what was left for disposal.
He was sitting in the mess hall on his lonesome when Betty and the rest of Third Squadron. In Betty's hand was an amber bottle of beer – cold, based on the condensation on its surface. It didn't look to be a particularly expensive brew, but he really didn't care.
"Here," Betty said, giving the bottle over to Arthur. "Consider it thanks for saving Laura."
Arthur cracked it open, pocketing the cap rather than toss it away – he may as well demonstrate manners, after all. A quick swig revealed a pleasant surprise: Irish red ale, or the local equivalent, at least. It went down far smoother than any amber ale he was used to.
"Huh. Nice," Arthur complimented. "You know how to pick them."
"Thank you," Betty said. "Mind if we sit with you?"
"Go ahead. I'm not in the middle of anything," Arthur said.
The members of the Third Troop set their trays – assorted with all manners of food – down and took seats around him. Looking at the food, Arthur didn't think they looked particularly appetizing but – given that this island was equal parts prison and military base – he supposed that beggars couldn't be choosers.
The girl closest to him was a strawberry blonde teen that couldn't have been older than seventeen. Her expression screamed "my hero", and despite only really meeting her once, Arthur concluded that this kid was Laura.
"I appreciate what you did," she said. "I was down an engine – that blast would have killed me."
"Don't mention it; I made a decent income from it."
"I will…I've been at this for about five years, and I can't remember coming that close to buying it," Laura said. "What about you? Your fingers seemed a bit stiff when you got to the infirmary."
"It was the feedback from my operating system," Arthur explained. "My craft's left arm took most of the heat, and I felt it myself. I was a bit numb for a few moments, but I've recovered."
Arthur was clad in a tank top and jeans after cleaning up, leaving the cybernetic rig on his back exposed for anyone looking to see.
"Oh, dear," Betty said.
"Just looking at that makes my skin crawl," Irma commented.
"Hah! If that's what you're feeling, then you haven't felt anything, yet," Arthur said. "Just wait until it's actually grafted to you. Damn thing itches at the worst times. Like right now."
"We get called 'coffin jockeys' a lot, but you…" Laura trailed.
"I imagine the only way to ditch your Para-Mail if things go wrong is to jump off while they're in Flight Mode," Arthur said. "There's no ejection system in Destroyer Mode – not that they would help if DRAGONs were still flying about. But no…if any craft can be called an 'Armored Coffin', it's most definitely mine."
"If a mission goes bad, what do you do?" Betty asked.
"Withdraw or see the mission through to the end. I suppose I should count my blessings – I've never failed a mission…"
The subsequent bewildered silence gave way to idle chatter between the members of the Third Troop. Laura looked absolutely exhausted after such a close call, and Arthur was a little bit uncomfortable with how close she was to him – like she could lean against him at any time. However, she was jolted awake again and the attention of the table was drawn to the approach of Vivian, Salia, and Ersha.
"Hiya!" Vivian greeted.
"Arthur! I'm glad you're alright," Ersha added. "When I heard you were out there during that last incursion, I got worried."
"I heard the radio chatter," Salia said. "Sounds like your NEXT took quite the hit."
"Nothing it couldn't take," Arthur said.
"Quiz time! Did you really take down two Galleons on your own?" Vivian questioned.
"Well, the Third Troop helped me in lining up my attack runs…"
"Who lands the kill shot is what matters," Betty said. "We kept them pinned, but you did the hard work."
"Don't sell your team short, Betty," Arthur said. "So, yeah. I suppose I did do the heavy lifting."
"Whoa. You're like a superhero," Vivian said with a whistle.
"Oh, no. Super or not, I'm no hero," Arthur said. "Just a soldier."
Salia and Vivian found a few spare seats, while Ersha continued about her own business. Arthur tuned out most of the discussion, as most of it seemed to be simple small talk, along with talking about the finer details of the incursion. At Arthur's side, Laura seemed to be blushing.
Arthur was taking a swig when he heard the bombshell from Salia.
"The Commander wants Ange deployed by the end of the week," she stated. "She's being given an accelerated training course."
Arthur choked on his ale when he heard this, and started hacking as the alcohol went down the wrong tube. The red ale spilled on the mess hall table as he tried to get air into his system.
"Say what!?" he gasped out between coughing attacks.
A few strikes to his back helped clear out his airway.
"Who the Hell accelerates Basic Training to just one week?" Arthur questioned. "Military training is eight weeks, minimum."
"Curriculum is usually ten, but Ange came in at such a late age that the Commander wants her fast-tracked," Salia clarified. "But why do you care? We all saw your fight with her – what happens to her doesn't seem to matter to you."
"It doesn't," Arthur confirmed. "What does matter to me is how it affects your team. Hasty training never ends well."
The shattered remains of the ale bottle littered the floor, and Arthur moved to clean it up before deciding to give Jill a piece of his mind.
"I'll admit, her metrics look good," Arthur said in his confrontation with Jill. Ange's metrics were above average across the board, and her initial simulation performance was surprisingly good. "But I still have to protest this decision to fast-track her unto the field."
"What? You suddenly develop a heart for her?" Jill questioned. "Your emotions didn't strike me as that fickle."
"Let me reiterate: it's the First Troop as a whole that's going to suffer if you put her on the field so soon, especially while she's still convinced that she's a human," Arthur said.
"The Inspector General shared those same concerns," Jill said. "They're noted, but my orders still stand. We all have to adapt or die in this line of work. And last I checked, I'm not paying you to worry about Ange."
"You're really going to ignore my warning, then. Fine. But if the entire squadron dies because of – whatever you're calling her now – losing her nerve, then it's on you, not me," Arthur stated, before walking out and shutting Jill's office door behind him.
"Tch," Jill scoffed before taking a long draw from her cigarette. For a mercenary, Arthur seemed to have an awfully big heart and a stubborn streak that matched Ange's own. Jill had no real leverage against him – save for Kasumi.
If she had to, she could…but he might have easily anticipated that. She could also just proceed to contact the mainland, but that would remove a potential Ace out of her hand.
No. He's not the Ace in my deck…he's the Joker…a Wild Card…
And she had to make sure to play the Joker in her favor, whatever it took.
To Arthur's fortune, the next few days were fairly quiet for him, and he was able to focus on getting White Glint's repair and rearmament underway. Mei had picked up on NEXT maintenance like a fish took to water, so repairs felt like they just flew on by. For loadout adjustment, Arthur had the 051ANNR removed and stowed away, the MARVE moved into its place, and the 02-DRAGONSLAYER attached to the left arm.
The SULTAN plasma cannon replaced the OGOTO and was mounted on the left back slot to offset the weight distribution. Even with the energy that this weapon guzzled, the ARGYROS/G generator should supply more than enough energy to allow for extended flight time. Swapping the generator was just one of many modifications Arthur made to the 03-AALIYA design to make it better at aerial fighting.
The sun had set, with the only lights in the old dock providing illumination. Most of the base, save for the command staff, had turned in for the evening. Settling the crane to rest, Arthur dismounted the machine, descending the ladder down to the catwalk. The overhead lights were rather dim, but they glinted off of something on the catwalk.
Arthur approached that part of the catwalk, his eyebrow raised. There was water on the railing and the catwalk. The waterline of the sea was nearly fifty meters down - there was no chance of water reaching this high without inclement weather or the sprinkler system activating.
Somebody had climbed into the dock from the sea. Recently.
Arthur drew his sidearm – a modernized 1911 clone chambered for .45 ACP – and checked to make sure the chamber was loaded. There was an intruder in the area, motivations unknown. Most of the footprints had dried up, meaning that tracking the intruder was going to be a problem. Still, he didn't think they had gotten into the facility itself.
Noiselessly, the veteran LYNX proceeded across the catwalk, following what tracks he was able to make out, focusing his hearing to see if he could hear the dripping of water in the area. There was no hint of rain outside the dock, yet he could make out something very faint…but no footsteps. He decided to take a gamble when he passed a stack of supply crates, hitting the button to open a door to the lower levels before hiding behind the stack of crates.
Keeping an ear trained, Arthur noticed the dripping of water getting closer, but no footsteps. Whoever the intruder is, they're good – if they were completely dry, Arthur might have missed them entirely. The intruder that came in sight was wearing an armored black suit - similar to a LYNX piloting suit – with red trim and wearing a full-head helmet.
Raising the muzzle of the 1911, Arthur gave the command: "Freeze."
The intruder stopped right in his tracks, the only armament on his person being a handgun stowed in his holster. Nine-millimeter, if Arthur had to guess.
"Hands up and turn around," Arthur said.
Complying, the figure turned around. The helmet did not offer a full-face view, with the red-tinted visor only revealing his eyes and the bridge of his nose.
"Who are you?" Arthur demanded.
"Please," the intruder entreated. "Strayed, just lower the weapon."
Arthur's eyes widened ever so slightly. He'd used several aliases since arriving in this world, plus his actual name. But he'd only ever used "Strayed" with one person.
"Wait…Tusk?" Arthur asked.
It took every ounce of willpower to avoid pulling the trigger on reflex when the figure's finger went to hit a button on the side of the helmet, raising the tinted eye shield, revealing a set of very distinct purple eyes. A few locks of brown hair dangled around eye level.
Slowly, Arthur lowered the muzzle of his pistol, as recognition settled in his mind.
"A little advice, Tusk: try to make sure you're completely dry before sneaking around. You're trailing water," Arthur said. "More to the point: what are you doing here?"
"I have something you might be interested in," Tusk said. "I still try to look for more people like me, and I came across a transmission that sounds like it's for you."
"A transmission? Who's it from?"
"Remember when you said you escaped the Misurugi Empire? I think footage of your NEXT got onto the Mana Network. It sounds like the Seekers are interested in working with you," Tusk said. "I didn't look further. I figured you would want to see it."
"Funny. I was looking for a way to contact them or the Trailblazers, myself," Arthur trailed. "Let's see it."
From a waterproof pouch, Tusk pulled out what looked like a USB flash drive. Pretty old tech, but still commonplace back in his own world. Arthur took the drive and focused on it.
"Strayed. Please don't tell Jill I was here," he said.
"You know Jill?" Arthur asked. With no answer, he asked, "Tusk?"
He didn't hear Tusk move at all, so he was surprised when the spot Tusk was standing in was empty when he looked back.
Tusk…who are you?
Arthur was completely correct in his guess that Tusk was more than just some kid living alone on an island. He already had his suspicions when Tusk shared his ammo cache back before he got to Arzenal, but this proved it.
Minutes later, he opened his NEXT's cockpit hatch and booted the OS on in a low-power state. Plugging the USB key into the system, he noticed that there was only one file on the drive. It was an audio file. He had time…
"This is for the pilot of the unknown machine that was last seen at Yokoshira Junction. This is from the Seekers. You have recently entered our interests through the word of one of our benefactors…as well as a mutual friend. We have an assignment – and with it, a proposal – for you.
"The Arden Cove lies far to the south along the Eastern Sea, outside the borders of the Velda Dynasty. It is now under occupation by a small, but militant, anti-establishment group, more militant even than the Trailblazers. We have attempted to negotiate for refuge – or at least, safe passage – with this group in the past. All have been rejected, and the last negotiator we sent has not reported back. We suspect he's been killed. With all diplomatic options exhausted, we've decided to ask for your aid; Arden Cove needs to be cleared for use as a safe haven on our way elsewhere.
"Military resistance is believed to consist primarily of infantry, gun emplacements, and a few tanks. It shouldn't hinder you greatly. It will be a demonstration to us of your effectiveness.
"We assume you'll want compensation. The World of Mana lacks any form of currency, so we cannot monetarily do so. However, we have come across some unusual equipment that looks like it would fit your machine. We are willing to part with it, as well as offer salvage terms that we believe you'll find to your favor.
"If you're interested, meet us in the vicinity of the Taurens Islands."
An anti-establishment organization had benefactors within Mana society? Shouldn't be a surprise, Arthur supposed. Some figures in Mana society were too public to propose open reform; it made sense to work under the table with organizations such as the Seekers. What interested Arthur most was the mention of "unusual equipment" – Jill had said that parts that fit NEXTs were previously found in salvage operations.
Could those parts really have gotten as far as the mainland? The implications disturbed Arthur. And speaking of the mainland, Arthur recalled reading the books that were given to him – the Taurens Islands were a collection of islands that took up roughly the same area as former US Hawaii and were located roughly eighty kilometers off the coast of the Enderant Union.
And they lay a considerable distance outside of Arzenal airspace. Getting there unnoticed was going to be a nightmare – it wasn't exactly difficult to notice a nine-and-a-half-meter tall machine leaving the island. And the Seekers wanted a NEXT to solve their problem.
Stepping out of the cockpit, Arthur looked around the old dock. There had to be something he could use to justify wandering outside of standard Arzenal airspace. That's when he looked down and saw the tug…
The Following Day – Commander's Office
"A salvage operation?" Jill inquired.
"That's right. I've got a read on NEXT parts in that area," Arthur concluded. "I noticed an old salvage tug in the old dock – I'm requesting permission to use it."
"I see…" Jill trailed, though her tone didn't suggest that she actually believed what Arthur was saying.
"Commander, I must protest!" Inspector General Bronson chimed in. "It's obviously an excuse to escape supervision."
She wasn't wrong – but Arthur also wasn't technically lying about the salvage operation.
"Those parts carry a high risk of environmental contamination, not to mention that they're property of Anatolia, Inspector General," Arthur said. "Leaving aside any faction conflicts, you wouldn't want anyone from the mainland to chance upon them and be bedridden with radiation sickness, would you?"
"I can report those risks easily," Bronson said.
"But the mainland has no capability of detecting the type of radiation the parts emit. I do," Arthur pointed out.
"He has a point," Jill said. "Still, if they're an active radiation risk, I can't have it in the dock without precautions. And you're still technically leaving the area of a penal military base that doesn't officially exist – that means I'll be keeping you on a tight leash."
"You're not honestly considering this, are you, Commander!?"
"I am. You've seen his performance against the DRAGONs on both outings. This can benefit us both," Jill said.
"But Commander…I will have to log this for reports," Bronson clarified.
"Please do," Jill said. "I'll look forward to seeing it in person."
When Bronson left the Commander's Office, a tense silence settled between Arthur and Jill for a few moments. LYNX and Commander each regarded each other, trying to see who would blink or respond first. Veterans of their respective crafts tried to get a read on the other.
"So," Jill started, breaking the silence. "Are you going to shock me with the whole truth now?"
"Hmph. Nothing gets past you, I see," Arthur said. "Okay, so there is a caveat to the salvage in question – it's my payment from a client."
"Oh?"
"Blasting my way out of the Misurugi Empire didn't go unnoticed – seems an anti-establishment group got their hands on still images of my NEXT and wants to hire me for a simple sweep job on another, more violent, anti-establishment group," Arthur said. "Money not being a thing on the mainland, they're offering generous salvage terms."
"Hmm. I see," Jill said. "But you know…I can't let you leave unmonitored."
"Yeah. That's about what I expected to hear," Arthur sighed.
"I will be having your NEXT fitted with a tracker…and it would be in both of our interests if you left no witnesses," Jill said. "Or, at least, not let them catch you moving for our air space."
"Hey, I can pull off a zero-witness cleanup," Arthur said.
"There's still one thing that's on my mind," Jill added. "How exactly do you plan to crew a salvage tug all by yourself?"
Arthur ended up spending the next few days modifying the tug to accept command inputs through the AMS (so long as his NEXT was docked, of course). The tug trailed a barge behind it, upon which his NEXT lay prone. In an effort to camouflage the NEXT in low-light conditions, Arthur stripped it of the white paint job and replaced it with a dark gray.
He elected to retire the White Glint name for his NEXT, since – in his own words – "the real pilots of White Glint would never have stooped as far low as I have. It's just Strayed now, just like when I started".
Memorizing the shift change in the dead of night, Arthur set off with the tug, barge, and NEXT all under cover of darkness. Unknown to him, he gave away a key piece of information to the one eavesdropping on his communications.
Elsewhere…
"Strayed…" Salamandinay trailed, having received the relevant information from Lizardia.
Could it truly have been the same person? Riding Enryugo to an island off the coast from where the rest of her society was, the Shrine Maiden Princess of the Children of Aura, needed to see for herself the flight recordings of a machine that washed up several months ago. Its pilot was dead in the cockpit, and had been given a proper burial.
The chief technician behind the upkeep of the machine that was left behind – Gila – gave Salamandinay a formal bow.
"I need access to the flight recorder," Salamandinay said, skipping all pleasantries.
"Right away," Gila said.
Only one flight recorder entry interested her: "Defend Line Ark".
A/N: Don't forget to leave a review.
