[center][b][color=Gray]I N T E R L U D E[/color][/b][/center]

[b]Western Mountains  
Abandoned Neodymium Mines
March 31st, 3030[/b]

Jon set the helicopter down near an abandoned cabin in a small clearing. He hadn’t flown in a while, but the sense of balance across the cyclic, collective, pedals and the throttle was not a far cry from the requirements of a neural helmet. When they’d left Cassandra’s lake property, he’d taken it slow in order to stay safely under controlled airspace and thankfully the weather was agreeable enough that the visibility was acceptable for low level flight. By the time he sat the gear down on the soft grass, he was looking forward to flying it again. After a few minutes spent folding the rotors up, he staked down the machine and threw an olive drab cover over the slick AVC paint scheme. A few more equipment checks: [url=https://i.ibb.co/rp1gpVP/20e3d82323589ae29778077f15c195bf.jpg]rifle[/url], [url=https://i.ibb.co/QFvCvv8/fbc9230c981cb6f687485c31fb5aafcd.jpg]sidearm[/url], pack and belt before Cassandra handed him a map with the coordinates of several seismic sensors. She had brought along a pricey satellite GPS which was handy, but he still kept track of his compass bearing as they set off.

Wearing a hooded sweatshirt, loose fitting pants, gloves and hiking boots, Jon looked more like a woodsman than a mercenary. All of his equipment was well-worn from outdoor usage, from his clothing to his rifle. His hair curled out from beneath a very heavily weathered baseball cap that simply sported the [url=https://www.sarna.net/wiki/General_Motors]GM[/url] logo and had molded itself to the shape of his skull through years of rain, sun, sweat and now Espian salt mist. Cassandra on the other hand looked like her entire ensemble had just come out of the box and consisted of expensive outdoor brands that made her look like she had just arrived from a catalog photoshoot.  When they had first set out from the lake property, she’d examined his ensemble with her typical, critical air, but rather than being judgemental, she seemed at least [i]minutely[/i] curious about selecting something that wouldn’t result in her freezing her ass off in the woods.

The terrain wasn’t overly treacherous for a cross-country ruck and the years of pine needles, foliage, moss and dirt gave way gently underfoot in many places after days of rain. There would be at least a few miles of steady walking to hit all the sensors efficiently and Jon was a little concerned at first about Cassandra keeping up, but she surprisingly moved along and complained little about the conditions. What she did talk about though, nearly non-stop, was a range of her favorite subjects: Fashion and gossip, her ex-husbands, AVC history, her two daughters, Capellan treachery, her Magazine, and finally Ben Kahale and the other turncoat board members, their drama, and how there would have been no need for any of this lunacy if they had all [i]just listened to her[/i]. Jon walked along mostly just listening. Much of it he had heard before, several times. He’d been in her office and seen her chew out her subordinates. Being there had made him a bit of a curiosity, but the coffee was the best he had ever tasted and the food from the restaurant was phenomenal- He could have as much as he wanted of any of it. To top it off, the women that worked for Cassandra were some of the prettiest he had ever seen. [i]It wasn’t all work[/i] on Espia he’d thought to himself occasionally. All he had to do was keep trespassers off of Cassandra’s zoned properties and in that work he was completely indiscriminate. FPA, NPDRE, CCAF, ABCD- whatever acronym they decided to ride under didn’t matter to his guns. 

They walked on sometimes crossing over and sometimes staying on a few logging trails. Occasionally, Jon would motion for Cassandra to quiet down for a moment and listen like he had heard something out of place. She played along at first, seemingly wrapt in the intrigue, but after a while she began to realize sometimes her hired help was just messing with her. When she called him on it, he just snickered a little, shrugged and kept walking. What he did explain though, was that beyond the obvious story that the seismic readings told on paper: that the sensors were picking up an unusual amount of activity in the mountains, the real trail was in the the washed out tracks which would have been impossible to distinguish as the NPDRE and the Crimson Fists searched from the air and from the cockpit of a mech. The abandoned mines were a maze of possibilities, but he had a good hunch.

“[color=ed145b]How is your father doing?[/color]” Cassandra suddenly asked. The topic, for once not related to herself, immediately caught Jon’s attention. 

“[color=f26522]Still not good.[/color]” He replied. It wasn’t where his mind wanted to be, but he had made the decision to tell Cassandra about most of his reasoning for forming his “one-man” mercenary crew during their initial interview. Amazingly, she’d been surprisingly receptive in his desire to get away from fighting for a change.  

[color=ed145b][i]It makes you genuine my dear, not just another hired savage I could have pulled from the MRB registry. I need real motivated people to work for me no matter what my business may be. Half of these little debutants in my office can hardly fold a sweater without a focus group. It’s exhausting.[/i][/color] Was how she had explained it. [color=ed145b][i]Jonathan, I’m not a commander or a general, or anything like that, but I understand people and the use of force, whether it may come from the barrel of a weapon or from Hyperpulse message. The newcomers to this planet and the natives alike, underestimate me at their peril.[/i][/color]

Once he had become a known commodity on Espia outside of the influence of the former Capellan government, their would-be replacements in the NPDRE and eventually Crimson Fists themselves. The offers began to come in for him to leave his contract with Cassandra and pick a side, but he’d ignored them all. He kept his commitments. 

Another half mile to a bend in the logging trail that opened into a clearing bringing up flat grass and good shadows from the tree line. Jon stopped and looked around while Cassandra continued to talk. He exhaled a bit and without a word, slowly unslung his rifle and placed it on the ground before raising his hands.

“[color=ed145b]Jonathan, what are you doing?[/color]” Cassandra questioned sharply.

“[color=f26522]Put your hands up.[/color]”

“[color=ed145b]Excuse me, [i]what?[/i][/color]”

There was movement from the tree line, two figures stepped out of the shadows weapons ready and moving quickly, a green patch visible on the sleeve. One held a shotgun. Cassandra immediately put her hands up. As they approached, she wiggled her nose to keep her sunglasses in position. There was never an excuse to not be fashionable. 

“[color=limegreen]Smarter than you look, [i]Jonathan.[/i][/color]'' One of the soldiers said mockingly and picked up Jon’s rifle while the other kept his sights trained.

“[color=f26522]I was waiting for y’all to come out.[/color]” The Green Knight began searching him as he spoke, immediately removing his sidearm and a large knife from his belt. “[color=f26522]I got another one on my ankle[/color]” The soldier promptly rolled his pant leg up and tossed another handgun aside. 

“[color=limegreen]Not wearing any colors, we coulda just put you down. There’s a war on ya know.[/color]” This time he removed a pack of cigarettes. Jon frowned.

“[color=f26522]Not lookin’ for trouble.[/color]”

“[color=SandyBrown][i]Then what are you lookin’ for?[/i][/color]” Another voice asked. A mountain of a man emerged from cover to their right, flanked by two more Knights with shotguns. His voice matched his presentation. 

Jon watched them walk up from the corner of his eye. “[color=f26522]I think I found it.[/color]”

Sergeant Dalton snorted amusement at the reply as one of the men handed him Jon’s rifle. Another attempted to very awkwardly search Cassandra. “[color=ed145b]Dear child, try not to over-indulge yourself.[/color]” She said in a tone that came away like a knife being pulled from a silk sheath.

Dalton looked over the rifle briefly. “[color=SandyBrown]Nice piece…[/color]” He said. “[color=SandyBrown]Where you from soldier?[/color]” 

“[color=f26522]New Vandenberg.[/color]” The reply came with an obvious air of pride and a smirk.

“[color=SandyBrown]Taurus.[/color]” Dalton patted his chest with the [url=https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Hookem_hand.png]unofficial hand sign[/url] of the Taurian Defense Force.

“[color=f26522]No shit?[/color]”

“[color=ed145b]Well, isn’t this lovely? I should have brought a picnic lunch for the happy reunion.[/color]” Cassandra piped in. “[color=ed145b]Now can we get down to business gentlemen?[/color]”
 
“[color=SandyBrown]Just out on a hike with granny?[/color]” Dalton said, ignoring her. Cassandra’s jaw nearly came unhinged.

“[color=f26522]She’s not my granny, she’s my boss.[/color]” 

“[color=SandyBrown]Oh, so it’s like that huh?[/color]”

The other Knights chuckled. Jon, still with his hands in the air, grimaced and shook his head.

“[color=SandyBrown]How did you find us?[/color]” Native camaraderie was set aside, Dalton wanted answers pronto.

“[color=f26522]Followed the tracks.[/color]”

“[color=SandyBrown]Bullshit. Those tracks been washed out for days- [i]How did you find us?[/i][/color]”

A tension returned to the air at Dalton’s words. The Knights were well acquainted with the tone and a couple fingers moved over the trigger of their weapons. 

“[color=f26522]You got something heavy, I think a tank, with a damaged drive gear.[/color]” Jon replied, matching Dalton’s grim visage, soldier to soldier. “[color=f26522]It cut an unusual track. You can see where the driver was fightin’ with it. Even after the rain, it’s there.[/color]”

Dalton seemed somewhat impressed. Some of the other Knights eyeballed the trail, studying the mud and shoulders for what Jon described. “[color=SandyBrown]Fair enough.[/color]” He said. “[color=SandyBrown]But how did you even know to come here?[/color]” 

“[color=f26522]I had an AVC map in my back pocket.[/color]” Jon nodded towards the infantryman holding it. “[color=f26522]It’s layed out with the old mining complexes and a bunch of seismic sensors y’all have been runnin’ over.[/color]”

“[color=SandyBrown]And how’d you get a hold of that?[/color] Dalton arched an eyebrow.

“[color=ed145b]Because they belong to me.[/color]”