A/N: It's been a while, folks. I've hit a spat of Writer's Block, and a few irl problems hit me. Chief among them being that I lost my job two months ago. I've been hunting for another one since then, and the resulting slump in my mood has further impacted my ability to write. That said, I've kept you all waiting for far too long. So you get this chapter. No Ange, and a break from Arzenal for a chapter. Just Arthur and the contract.

Enjoy!

Four Hours Later – Taurens Islands

It was still the dead of night by the time Arthur arrived in the designated area, barge tracked behind the tug. The cabin lights were on in the bridge, and he killed the tug's engine after coasting the tug to a stop and lowering the anchor. There had been no sign of anyone waiting in the area – no lights, no ships…nothing.

It made sense, he supposed: the Seekers were an anti-establishment organization. While nowhere near as militant in action as the Trailblazers were, they were still in opposition to the status quo – to survive for long periods of time would require subtlety. If Arthur wanted to lure them out to meet up, he'd have to let them believe they had the upper hand over them.

That meant leaving the tug – and by extension, his NEXT – unattended. Arthur wasn't careless – he had set up a few explosives on the inner walls of the tug. They were improvised and low yield, but they could still spring a large enough leak that would ensure that hijackers couldn't get far before sinking.

Lowering a lifeboat with him on it, Arthur was lightly armored and armed, with his sidearm and a collapsible multi-purpose entrenching tool, the latter of which was sharpened enough to make for a decent improvised weapon. He carried a bag of supplies and a portable terminal with him, on which he saved the message. He also had a flashlight. His Morse Code was extremely rusty since no one really used it anymore, but he flashed the light in such a way that someone who knew it could make out "Seeker".

When he reached the shore, Arthur immediately got to work with the entrenching tool, chopping some wood to start a fire. He boiled some water and got a small shelter further inland going. The boiling water really helped with softening the hardtack that he prepared a day ago, and he started chowing down on what many considered to be an effective, but unappealing, survival food.

A chill went up his spine as he suspected that he was being watched – digging into the improvised shelter he set up for himself, he set the briefing on loop as he dug further into the small cave with his tool. His gamble was that his contact would come across and, seeing the briefing, would deduce that he was their man.

Arthur could sleep in cramped areas such as this – after such a trip and the setup, an hour's nap was due. In the bag, wrapped in a hand towel, was a light bulb. Surplus and burnt out, Arthur removed it for one specific purpose; crushing it in the wrappings, Arthur set up the shards around the terminal and in the mouth of the cave, where there was a mix of dirt and rock.

Early warning device – ancient, but efficient. He dug a small nook into the cave that would keep him from being readily seen. Dirt wasn't particularly nice to sleep on, but Arthur had been in worse.

His internal clock didn't go very far before his hearing registered an audible "crunch", and the altering of the direction of the sound direction of his terminal. Someone was monkeying around with his equipment. Noiselessly as he could in such a confined space, Arthur drew his sidearm and stood, peeking around the corner of his makeshift cover.

A single pair of people – both male – were around the terminal, neither of whom were well-armed nor well-armored. Just some low-grade ballistic vests and small caliber handguns. Taking a gamble, Arthur stowed his sidearm and walked out of his alcove with his hands up.

"Wait!" one of them said. "Don't move!"

"Don't shoot. My weapon is stowed," Arthur said, after which he saw an emblem of a lighthouse on a horizon on the front of the vests of the individuals.

"Who are you?"

"You're Seekers, based on the emblem. I'm the guy your leaders are trying to hire," Arthur said.

"What?"

"That tug belongs to me, and it carries the machine I used to blast my way out of Yokoshira Junction," Arthur said.

"Call it in," one of them said, gun still pointed at him. "Radio only. A Mana Call could get traced."

"On it," the other said, pulling a radio from his pack, stepping away to where what he was saying was inaudible.

Arthur was certain, if he so wanted, that he could easily drop both people without even taking a hit. Neither seemed particularly well-trained. But if they were indeed Seekers, doing so would defeat the purpose of taking the job to start with. His eyes automatically scanned for the most efficient way to kill them if he was pressed into doing so.

The radioman came back, his pistol's muzzle somewhat lowered, but not so far that he couldn't shoot Arthur, if needed. He closed the terminal and picked it up, not bothering to check for traps.

"New orders," he told the other one. "He comes with."

"Your lucky day," the guard holding him up said. "Hands where I can see them. And move slowly."

Elsewhere, Same Time

When your NEXT was totaled when you're hooked up, you're supposed to die slowly…aren't you? There's supposed to be a bright light before your life ends. But for whatever reason, it seemed to have been snatched away. Death's cold grip loosened and went slack as he returned to the land of the living.

The former Omer LYNX slowly opened his eyes, experiencing mild discomfort as he held his hand up, his eyes reacting to the bright overhead light. There was an IV tube in his hand.

"I see you're awake," said a tenor voice. The LYNX looked over, seeing a man in a green suit with long blonde well-kept hair that seemed to come all the way down to the waist.

"Who…?" the LYNX croaked.

"Save your energy," the man said. "You've been here for nearly a week now. I've researched your records extensively – both sets. I require your services."

"Who…?" the LYNX tried again.

"Forgive my lack of manners," he said. "I've gone by many names, but you may refer to me as 'Embryo'."

The LYNX raised an eyebrow. What kind of a name was that?

"I imagine you're rather curious about how you got here. And – perhaps – about the status of your Closed Plan?" Embryo asked.

The LYNX tried to move, but his limbs were too weak to move more than a few inches.

"Allow me to explain what happened – and about the long-term consequences of your actions…"

Taurens Islands, Later

Arthur had the reflexes, durability, and physical strength to overpower his captors if he so desired. In the interests of building some goodwill, however, he cooperated with them, walking only on their say-so. From what he was able to see, there was a hidden bunker somewhere further inland on the island that his scanners hadn't been able to pick up – a foundation of steel and concrete hidden under sand and earth.

The bunker itself was in various states of repair, telling Arthur that the place had been seeing extensive use for years. The unmistakable sound of internal combustion-based generators reached his ears, as did the sound of rushing water. Fossil fuels and hydroelectric energy were being used to supplement each other.

With minimal fuss, he walked into a small office, with one of the rifles still trained on him. The other guard placed his portable terminal on the desk – it was hard to make out in the room's dim lighting, but it seemed like a woman with light brown hair set up in a bun. She appeared to be in an army dress uniform that had seen better days.

Her features were smooth as she walked into the light, her sapphire eyes gleaming as she opened the portable terminal, checking on the message that was stored inside.

"Have you searched him?" the woman asked her subordinates.

"Yes, ma'am," one said, ejecting the magazine and clearing the chamber on Arthur's sidearm before handing it over.

Arthur had to hand it to them: they may not have been particularly well-trained, but they had the common sense to disarm and clear the weapons of their prisoner.

"Hmm?" one of the guards grunted. "He has prostheses on his back?"

"Just as I theorized," the woman said. "A machine like that couldn't reasonably be controlled by manual input."

The guards cuffed him to the chair in front of him, sitting him down on it.

"Now…let's start with who you are, and how you came across this message," the woman said as she sat down behind the desk.

"Arthur Bradshaw. No military rank – I'm a mercenary," he said. "If what the message said was true, then images of White Glint had leaked on the Mana network."

"You're referring to your machine, I take it," the woman said.

"Exactly," he said.

"Our benefactors have taken a surprising interest in your machine," the woman said. "Unfortunately, so have their enemies."

"I take it there are people in Mana society that are sympathetic to the Seekers," Arthur pointed out.

"Yes. But some are so high-profile that they cannot operate openly," the woman said. "Take me, for instance. I once oversaw a major military garrison in the Galia Empire until my sympathies were discovered – I was spared since I didn't legally do anything against society, but I was relieved of my post and rank."

"Sounds like your career hit a permanent dead-end," Arthur said. "But that's not why you're in the Seekers – you don't strike me as a vengeful type."

"You'd be surprised…"

"Where do the Seekers stand on the Norma?" Arthur asked.

"Strictly speaking, we are not a Norma sympathizer group," the woman said. "But as long as they leave us be, then we'll leave them be."

"I see…" Arthur trailed, leaving a mental note to inquire about Sayla. "Now, enough of the pleasantries and on to business, miss…?"

"Kaitlyn Harper," the woman said, opening a Mana screen, displaying it before him. "The target is a small encampment of anti-establishment militants; society considers them even more extreme than the Trailblazers, who we've dealings with in the past. No one knows why this group is so violent – some speculate that they have previously been cut off from the Light of Mana for a brief moment and have gone mad from the loss."

"You want me to clear them from Arden Cove," Arthur stated, with a nod from Kaitlyn. "That's going to be your hideout?"

"For a time," Kaitlyn said. "The longer-term base will be set up on The Span – it's a five-kilometer bridge that joins the Velda Dynasty to the now-defunct Langdon Confederacy. The Confederacy is said to have been the nation from which all humans migrated to what now make up the Six Nations. The Span rarely sees use anymore, but it remains a popular tourist site."

Looking at images of the Span, Arthur was immediately struck by how similar it looked to Line Ark – perhaps it was a parallel version of it.

"The Span is guarded, though, isn't it?" Arthur inquired.

"Lightly by a joint armored platoon of Galian and Velda personnel. But we'll worry about them when the time comes," she said.

"Now, regarding these salvage terms you were talking about…"

"Yes. The Salvage…" Kaitlyn trailed. "What we have is equipment of unknown origin. Being former military, I'm well aware of the existence of para-mail. I'm also familiar enough to know that this doesn't fit any model."

She shifted her own terminal, allowing him a look at the salvage the Seekers recovered. It was a pair of shoulder-mounted missile flare launchers: the 051ANAM, manufactured by BFF. While outdated, the flare launchers were some of the most reliable available to LYNX.

"Caught your interest?" Kaitlyn questioned.

"You could say that," Arthur said. "You said there was other salvage, too".

"Yes. Though the last messenger we sent to these militants never came back, we have sent others in the past, and they were able to scout their camp to some degree. We've seen medical equipment, another piece of equipment that looks like it would fit your machine, and screening equipment of some kind. Beyond that, it's mostly ammunition and engine parts".

"What will salvage distribution be?"

"We may have a few soldiers of our own, but we're primarily diplomats who need to move around quickly. We're offering an eighty-twenty split…in your favor. Obviously, the more you keep intact, the more you get to choose from".

"Eighty-twenty, huh? There's a catch, isn't there?" Arthur asked.

"As you've heard in the message, this is a test run of your capabilities. We only ask that the cove remains habitable," Kaitlyn said.

Which meant that Arthur was not cleared for Primal Armor use – evasion would be his top priority in avoiding damage. Still if all these militants were armed with were small arms, tanks, and gun emplacements, keeping damage-free ought to be a simple matter. There was no reason to get complacent, though.

"How soon do you want me to head out and get this done? Snappy?"

"Hm…you know your stuff," Kaitlyn said.

Several hours later, some distance from the Arden Cove

The saying is that it's darkest before dawn. It's true – the sun had yet to appear on the horizon. However, there were still lights as – five kilometers from the cove – the main boosters of Strayed shone in the darkness. And the machine was closing the distance, fast.

Having grabbed a few hours' worth of sleep, Arthur was nonetheless operating on fumes and caffeine. Even so, he decided to get the mission done as soon as possible. His Primal Armor was disabled, and visibility was lousy – even so, he could make out lighting, both natural and artificial, on the shoreline ahead.

The less he blew up, the more he got to take home. He was grateful to have traded out the grenade cannon for the plasma cannon for this purpose – less chance of collateral damage. Harper was generous enough to give Arthur radio encryption keys that were in use by the militants, so she should be able to make out the chatter that the militants are transmitting – some of the chatter, at least.

"Strayed here; I'm beginning my attack run on the anti-air batteries," Arthur transmitted back to the Seekers.

Gunning the thrusters, Arthur was about two kilometers away when local chatter began squawking – his boosters' wake was identified, but it didn't seem anyone had made out his NEXT. It wasn't until he was within a kilometer that the opposition realized that they were dealing with a raider, and flare rockets were being launched into the air, illuminating the area – this was a double-edged sword because, while his NEXT became visible in the light, its targeting systems could properly function.

"Target spotted! Fire the forty mils!" he heard over the radios.

The "forty mils" in question were an array 40-millimeters fixed cannon emplacements aiming on his position. Quick-thrusting twice to his left, the barrage from the cannon missed, and confusion over the radio filled the chatter. Readying the plasma cannon, he locked on and fired on one of the cannons just as the flare rockets were burning out. The emplacement exploded, the immediate vicinity catching fire.

There must have been quite a bit of ammunition in the area, because a number of secondary explosions rocked the area as the ammunition cooked off, spreading the fire further. Thrusting further, Arthur readied the blade. And an amethyst light filled the air as the laser blade cleaved clean through the barrels of an anti-aircraft battery, a second slash going through the main body, mere inches away from the ammunition storage chamber.

"Battery one is down; moving for the command tent," Arthur said.

Infantry rifle fire harmlessly clashed against his armor as the sand was kicked up. Ammunition from his MARVE rained down on the command tent, tracer rounds from gun emplacements and APCs grazing his NEXT. .50 caliber bullets from what looked like old M2s dug into his armor, doing minor damage. Thrusting forward, he slashed his laser blade into the APC, incinerating the gunner and driver in mere seconds.

A few more plasma shots destroyed the remaining ground cannons, and another AA battery fell before his laser blade. Panic set into all local chatter, and it looked like all the militants that remained were attempting to evacuate in APCs and a single para-mail. A plasma shot destroyed the barracks, killing whoever may have been in it, sending the man going for the para-mail flying.

A clean sweep of Arden Cove meant that no hostile leaves the area alive. Thrusting forward after the fleeing APC, Arthur brought his blade down, disintegrating armor, vaporizing the meat off the bones of the occupants. He riddled a second APC with the rifle, destroying the armor, the rounds shredding anyone who was inside.

That left one target: a Surface-to-Air Missile (SAM) battery. Being well under the minimum altitude needed to be locked onto, Arthur faced no resistance as he charged forward. His NEXT crust the battery and its radar system, preventing it from detecting and locking onto anything.

Amidst the ammunition explosions, burning wreckage, and blazing tents, Strayed stood, both it and its LYNX victorious against those that tried to stop it. The glowing flames shed lights on the dark gray hull of the NEXT, the damage on its armor insignificant.

Arthur grinned as he keyed in his radio, saying, "Reporting to Harper: Mission complete."

This was going to be a hell of a haul…

Elsewhere…

The Omer LYNX buried his face in his hands, because he had seen what ORCA's actions had wrought. He wasn't sure how this "Embryo" had access to this information, but the images he saw were horrifying. Only the most dedicated to the League were going to see space, to escape the polluted Earth.

The rest were going to be abandoned to the poisoned Earth, barely surviving for centuries until tribes, organizations and new nations rebuilt civilization. All for the process to start all over again. This wasn't what was promised to him.

It wasn't what he wanted…

"So, you see," Embryo started. "Your actions did not aid humanity any more than if you did not act."

"That is the future our actions will bring? There must be a way to avert that," the LYNX said.

"In a manner of speaking, there is. But I'll require your cooperation. I brought you back from death for this reason. I can avert your dimension's fate; I can create a new one for those that remain," Embryo said. "All I require is that all the pieces be put in place, and the obstacles in place to be removed. I require your assistance for that."

"You'll do that for those in my dimension?"

"On my honor, friend," Embryo promised, his hand offered in a handshake.

"Then it's a deal," the LYNX said, returning the handshake.

"I look forward to working with you, Maximillian Thermidor…"

The LYNX shook his head. Maximillian Thermidor no longer played a role in his life – not in this dimension.

"Please. I am Otsdarva…"

A/N: Yes, I'd been planning for a while to bring Otsdarva back. Whether he remains with Embryo or continues the trend of constantly playing all sides remains to be seen and planned.

Leave a review, and for those who stuck around: thank you!