ADDITIONAL: Okay, yeah, we don't have enough people for this right now. Ya want to continue, get me more people. I DID bump the interest thread before and nothing happened.
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Me. I became suddenly busy. So much stuff going on that I didn't have time to take down the tree 'till now.
As long as you give me a point of where everyone is so I know how to get the characters rolling in a new scene. For instance, it matters a great deal whether Hisako is still under lock and key, being interrogated, and if Kxeyun is being hospitalized and whatnot, in case Terra wants to confront either one of them.
His promise was heard by more than just the girl nearby him. But then, he wasn't exactly quiet about it either. What did it matter if Diana or Britta or anyone else overheard him? He meant it. This kind of situation, where people were fed into a meat-grinder... He wouldn't let that happen. That over-the-hill charge was the limit, the very limit. The cavalry had charged those machine guns and were just killed - man, woman, and horse. What kind of war was this, where even the animals suffered? They didn't even understand it the same way people do. Why should they be made to suffer? It's ironic, because when he was just a boy and he asked that about their livestocking, his father just smiled and said "It's because they don't understand that we don't let them suffer. The animals we eat live comfortable lives until they're ready for the day, and then - by law, if not by the grace of god - the end comes quick. We owe them much, so that courtesy is one I will always extend.". Isaac had never heard an animal suffering in his life, because of that. It was just one more scar to add to the group of them this war was putting upon him.
So, as you can see, he and Lucia both tried to think of something better than the moment now, but then something shattered the moment they were having. You get three guesses, and the first two don't count. Yeah, that's right. It was Middleton, getting in the middle of everything. He demanded her at his side for...god knows what. A search for disloyal troops? Minesweeping? Writing his biography for him? Whatever he was putting her through, it wasn't right. Lucia had to go and see what new fresh hell the Captain wanted her for, but not before thanking Isaac for his help. The only thing of it was...well...
'Mister Isaac'? Good god, I've only got a couple of years on her. Am I being aged by the war that fast? I'm gonna be 83 by the time I get out of this!
Britta had a comment to chime in with, smirking all the way.
"It's the promise you made. You just got bigger and more important to her."
"Did everyone overhear that?"
Maybe. If they did, they weren't all telling. He went around the squad, making sure everyone else was relatively okay. It was a little while when Middleton came back with what Isaac had been dreading this whole time: Orders. And the gall of that man! The cavalry suceeded?! That wasn't success! That was a massacre! Middleton must've been born with his head on backwards! There was an outright scowl on Isaac's face as he continued, going on to say how 'unfortunate' that he couldn't be joining them for their hellish city battle. Mind you, if he was scared, it sounded like he had a reason to be: There was a special operative in the area, codenamed Green Fox. He also said he wanted everyone to look after Lucia, which they wouldn't mind doing, but frankly...
Stop pretending like you give a damn about people, you shit. You can right fuck off too.
And with that, the spell was broken because Middleton was leaving and Isaac saw Jean's hand in Reyna's for a moment there. That was definitely smile-worthy. He heard Luke talking about Middleton and their orders, and...well...it's a damn good thing that his mood had improved. He didn't want to lay it down heavy on the new guy about things. It wouldn't seem right.
"I didn't play 'Soldier' as a kid. I don't think we should, even now. But if we have to, we have to. You can trust Jean and I on things. We'll get through this."
And so, the march began, Isaac simultaneously starting his lookout for trouble and wondering just what sort of person the Green Fox was. Marksman implied a rifle-user. A name like Green Fox meant that he was tricky, slippery. Isaac hadn't seen fox hunts and, honestly, he wouldn't want to. He'd be the one rooting for the fox. Just the same, if they found this one around, they had to aim to kill. There was no telling what he was capable of, what he'd do, or-
Suddenly, it was again with 'Mickey', and everyone who was in earshot would probably turn their heads. Lucia was trying to grab Michael's attention in the biggest way possible. It was all very distracting, getting a chuckle out of Isaac, for he knew what she was doing. She was getting their minds off of dark matters at hand. The cavalry charge? The Green Fox? Middleton? They were no match for Lucia Farris. She was way too good. Isaac heard Britta trying to keep quiet with laughter nearby, but both he and she lost it when the silver-haired girl started accusing him of staring at her in her new uniform!
"Mickey- I mean, Michael! How could you?! Captain Grumpus will have us all in chains!"
Yup! Captain Grumpus. He went there.
So, as you can see, he and Lucia both tried to think of something better than the moment now, but then something shattered the moment they were having. You get three guesses, and the first two don't count. Yeah, that's right. It was Middleton, getting in the middle of everything. He demanded her at his side for...god knows what. A search for disloyal troops? Minesweeping? Writing his biography for him? Whatever he was putting her through, it wasn't right. Lucia had to go and see what new fresh hell the Captain wanted her for, but not before thanking Isaac for his help. The only thing of it was...well...
'Mister Isaac'? Good god, I've only got a couple of years on her. Am I being aged by the war that fast? I'm gonna be 83 by the time I get out of this!
Britta had a comment to chime in with, smirking all the way.
"It's the promise you made. You just got bigger and more important to her."
"Did everyone overhear that?"
Maybe. If they did, they weren't all telling. He went around the squad, making sure everyone else was relatively okay. It was a little while when Middleton came back with what Isaac had been dreading this whole time: Orders. And the gall of that man! The cavalry suceeded?! That wasn't success! That was a massacre! Middleton must've been born with his head on backwards! There was an outright scowl on Isaac's face as he continued, going on to say how 'unfortunate' that he couldn't be joining them for their hellish city battle. Mind you, if he was scared, it sounded like he had a reason to be: There was a special operative in the area, codenamed Green Fox. He also said he wanted everyone to look after Lucia, which they wouldn't mind doing, but frankly...
Stop pretending like you give a damn about people, you shit. You can right fuck off too.
And with that, the spell was broken because Middleton was leaving and Isaac saw Jean's hand in Reyna's for a moment there. That was definitely smile-worthy. He heard Luke talking about Middleton and their orders, and...well...it's a damn good thing that his mood had improved. He didn't want to lay it down heavy on the new guy about things. It wouldn't seem right.
"I didn't play 'Soldier' as a kid. I don't think we should, even now. But if we have to, we have to. You can trust Jean and I on things. We'll get through this."
And so, the march began, Isaac simultaneously starting his lookout for trouble and wondering just what sort of person the Green Fox was. Marksman implied a rifle-user. A name like Green Fox meant that he was tricky, slippery. Isaac hadn't seen fox hunts and, honestly, he wouldn't want to. He'd be the one rooting for the fox. Just the same, if they found this one around, they had to aim to kill. There was no telling what he was capable of, what he'd do, or-
Suddenly, it was again with 'Mickey', and everyone who was in earshot would probably turn their heads. Lucia was trying to grab Michael's attention in the biggest way possible. It was all very distracting, getting a chuckle out of Isaac, for he knew what she was doing. She was getting their minds off of dark matters at hand. The cavalry charge? The Green Fox? Middleton? They were no match for Lucia Farris. She was way too good. Isaac heard Britta trying to keep quiet with laughter nearby, but both he and she lost it when the silver-haired girl started accusing him of staring at her in her new uniform!
"Mickey- I mean, Michael! How could you?! Captain Grumpus will have us all in chains!"
Yup! Captain Grumpus. He went there.
TERRA
When Hisn-ul-Ghayma went down, its drones followed. Because of that, Red-Star saw an opportunity to press on an attack with some lesser forces, specifically from the air. A number of these found Id, and Terra did not take well to their presence. She did not take it well, to the tune of blowing them out of the sky with short, controlled plasma bursts. It sounded like a scene from Aliens, basically. Right now, Id and Grand Sword Star were moving towards what Terra assumed to be Sahaquiel's position. Alot had happened in the time it took to help out Hisako. They'd had no radio contact since she'd told GSS' pilot to create white noise interference around her machine, a full blanket of it. Afterwhich, with them moving around, their direct wire transmission was also detached, since any maneuvers while it was on beyond walking might sever it, and they needed to get moving more than a little. Why? Oh...because things were a mess.
Sahaquiel is disabled, Hisn-ul-Ghayma is on fire, and there's a machine with no apparent lifesigns going insane. Is it some sort of complicated drone? ...we'd better hope so. I'd rather not consider the alternative, at this point.
It was pretty easy to see situations with a bit of flight. Thankfully, interference with the enemy had made it possible for Sahaquiel to remain intact and without further harm than it had sustained. The NC with the unusual readings was relatively close to Kxeyun's position, but other NCs were engaging it. The REAL problem would be the bear-like machine that stood victorious in its battle against Zahra. It'd gone straight for their tactical support. Had he known or was it a lucky guess. Either way, they were suffering for it now. Still couldn't receive any radio messages... GSS had to remain at her side to stay safe from any Havenite attacking. As far as that goes, that's a 'Mission Accomplished' on the capture of NC pilots. Surprising, though...
As they approached Sahaquiel, Hisako would naturally get an Ursa Nova vibe from it. This NC was a beast. It was made to slaughter. It must've been in a fierce battle. At least, that's what Terra figured happened. Kxeyun was a Denver-Vegas bloodsport survivor. Presumably, that meant that competition this time was more than a little stiff. Terra now attached a communications wire to Sahaquiel as she grabbed the machine, pointing to Grand Sword Star with Id's fingers to do same while she attempted to contact Kxeyun.
"Kxeyun, it's me, Terra. I'm sorry, I've been on radio blackout. It was the only way to help out another defector. We're pulling you back to base now. Anyone that tries to take you away now will die. You're safe now."
Yup, that's how Terra Laedo assures people. She outright states her intention to kill anyone who interferes.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
DREAD
The enemy NC was finished. Ursa stood up on its back legs and did one last stomp of its carcass. Dread scanned the area, waiting for some sort of opposition or reprisal incoming, preferrably someone shouting 'You bastard!' or something like that. But...nobody came.
"Hmph. No one? Well, with friends like these, who needs ME to kill you?"
The bear rocket-jumped to stand on another building to be used as a vantage point. Naturally, it didn't last long - due to the weight - but he got a basic outlook on things. Things were not chaotic enough. Oh, there were fights going on, but the only stand-out one appeared to be Tabris. He also saw two red mechs. One of them bore a Red-Star ident-tag. You know, the friend-or-foe system that Dread pretty much ignored, for the most part. Thing is, though, it was useful in discovering that a friend was standing near a foe and they weren't fucking killing each other. He wanted to shout at whatever incompetent was over there, but radio contact was nothing-doing. He couldn't raise the pilot.
He considered going over there to 'straighten out' said pilot...which of course meant killing the enemy, dragging the pilot back to Red-Star, opening the cockpit, and beating the occupant. So much work... He could also kill them now. Pretty sure the other red one was Id, the NC of the defector. They'd like that. However, Dread had a far more insidious idea that he was surprised that Red-Star wasn't employing even now. Those fools wanted to just kill or capture NC pilots, and they weren't doing the obvious thing that would bring this town to its knees: Burning it to the ground.
"Heh heh heh heh... You can't be a Haven if you've got nowhere to live!"
Ursa Nova was indeed heading in the general direction of Id, GSS, and Sahaquiel...but Dread was in no hurry. Not while he could incinerate every building within range of his hand and mouth flames. It's gonna be a hot time in the old town tonight!
Seriously, we could use some new blood here. Nobody want a bit of adventure with death on the line?
What timeline?
((With permission from @LetMeDoStuff))
Time had passed.
The train flung towards Amone had been a kind of respite. Though there hadn't been much to do on board, the 15th Atlantic Rifles had spent some time getting re-asserted into themselves, after that first initial shock of war to their system. People like Jean and Lucia and Michael, who had been so heavily affected by their first day - seemed human again instead of walking dead. And though others - like Isaac, for instance - were not so overtly harmed at the time, it's not to say there were no scars. Merely...they bore with it and moved on, because they had to. People handle the dark times in their lives differently, at different rates, or..they do not at all. Isaac was personally glad to see that everyone he had met and grown to like and understand in the 15th could laugh and love their lives again. He knew that they were not fully-recovered, that such a remedy to them all would take years...or never come at all. He was simply glad to see that the delicate thread of sanity had not snapped under pressure for them all. They just had to hang in there and deal with things, one day at a time. 'No task is insurmountable, just requiring the appropriate footwork.' That was something else is father told him.
Isaac wished that someone like his father were in charge, instead of Middleton. Lieu- No, Captain Middleton was just a granite-boned asshole who needed to get his eyes checked. He thought he was talking to hardened soldiers molded from clay to a task, but he didn't see that they were just people - some of them unwilling, some of them aangry, and all of them scared. Even Isaac was scared, in some dark corner of his mind where he kept his common sense. He put it away every time he trained wolves and now when he went to battle. It said 'Forget sense! I need instinct! I have to protect, look after, hunt, kill!'. Putting his mind in that of a canine who was transitioning from the wild thoughts to the trust of a new alpha, a human alpha, was a helpful focus. Hunt, feed, protect - strong emotional responses to times of need. His father trusted in his ability, his way of looking at things, and he did not rush him. The Imperial Army was in a rush. Maybe if the Federation just laid trap after trap, they'd kill themselves instead of getting so many people killed by clashing like deer with gunpowder antlers, everything exploding...
They'd spent so much time, the lot of them, talking and listening to things. Lucia was telling them about an incredible cathedral. Isaac wasn't one for art, but he could appreciate the complexity of architecture, the work and the craftmanship going into things. These massive monoliths built to stand the test of time were suppose to be forever. Kind of sad that a few mortars could end all that. That was the other half of war. The first was the shock and the terror. The last was the sadness and the loss. If someone blew up his farm, they'd rebuild it. The community would help, even. If someone blew up a cathedral, good fucking luck. Things built to last take a long time and alot of money. War cost people so much that you can hardly compile what the Imperials would owe to satisfy the world they were butchering. If they won this, if they beat them, that country might dissolve. Would it be worth it? Would it matter to him, or anyone who isn't a General or a otherwise position of power?
Their time of arrival was soon at hand, and that meant it was time for everybody to pick up their stuff and get going. Isaac made the rounds after Baker had given the order, calling for everybody to do just that, one name at a time. He wasn't hard. He would never be too hard on these guys, just firm. He had to be like his father, authoritive and wise, not shouting and irritating. Wolves do not bark, and hybrids maybe not often or ever. Make your howl known and move on. That was the way. Outside... Well, it was murky, but at least it wasn't raining this time. Isaac didn't like the rain, and after the first day...he doubted anyone else did either. Soon, they were out there and Middleton was coming to address his troops. As soon as he did, though, Isaac's first thought was...
Good lord, he's got one of those officer coats on.
He did, though. Middleton was wearing one of those coats - call 'em trenchcoats or greatcoats - that all the officers had, some of which seemed to be donned specifically to look and feel important, regardless of whether or not anything were truly accorded such. Knowing how the man thought, Isaac was certain that the Captain was definitely on a 'feel important' kick, looking good in front of everybody for all the vain and unnecessary reasons. Middleton started giving off his report and orders. First, it seemed that they were being split into squads. He felt confident that everyone they were with would be concidered reliableand trustworthy by all, and if they did not, then fuck you. He did not SAY that, specifically, but that is what he essentially meant. Jean was in charge of Squad One, and chances are that meant that the people surrounding him now - the people he'd been bonding with on the train - were going to be with him. He and Daniel needed to support Jean, to make sure leadership didn't break him over its knee like dry kindling. Daniel wasn't...extremely supporting. He was rather blunt, which could help or hurt, dependent on the circumstance of things. That didn't sit well with Isaac, but he'd try to manage him, if possible. If the wolf is nipping at your heels, you must dissuade him.
Now uhh...there was another instruction that Middleton had before he left. Before they were to gear up on all the stuff they would need for the day, they needed to go and change their uniforms. What Why? Well, he had to line up and get into the stores area to find out. Once inside...
"So, why are we changing our uniforms, exactly?"
The man handing him his stuff just looked at him and spoke.
"I dunno. Someone thought this was better for fitting in, meshing with then environment, and whatnot."
"We're going into a city, though, and this is...what? Forest? Dry dirt and grass? That doesn't fit in. This does."
He pointed out his own heavy flak vest.
"Where'd you get that, then? It's not standard, is it?"
"My drill sergeant thought I'd earned it. He wanted me to last longer if I got in the way of a few bullets."
"Well, I won't take it from a man what's trying to keep himself alive. That'd be a sin. Put it on over or under or whatever, but you gotta change, same as everyone else."
Over, then. He was sure that this was gonna stick out in the city, whereas his flak vest would make him less visible in the shadows, at least. Middleton's taste in soldier attire was about as bad as his own personal tastes. If they were ambushing troops in the woods, sure, but this was a bad choice. Still, he soon joined everyone else as they started to gather. Prior to marching, Jean wanted to outline the overall plan for them. This, Isaac became extremely attentive towards. He needed to know what it was he was protecting everyone FROM and FOR. Very important stuff. Apparently, they were going to cut off supply tunnels once they got into the city, part of a massive movement to break the seige by piecemeal. A long task...with appropriate footwork...one hoped. However, there were alot of things that would be hard to account for. This was a maze of streets, not a trench war. It would be like playing tag with guns, and it was not funny. Worse, the noise. Fire a gun and it could bring all kinds of attention on you, and you didn't know if it would be friend or foe, or just townspeople trying to stay alive. Jean was right to be worried, and to warn them all. Some of them seemed hopeful, Isaac tried to encourage Lucia's smile with one of his own, because it was a plan, and it sounded like it could work.
At least it's not some glory charge, like last time.
Oh, how Isaac was was going to eat those words later, when he finally worked it out.
The march onwards was long, and Isaac had been mainly focused on how he was going to keep things together once they got moving. He hadn't been thinking of the first part of the plan, about the cavaliers. He thought of tactics and the teachings that his drill sergeant had imprinted on him: The problems of noise and how to deal with them, combat in rooms, dealing with soldiers around corners, being watchful of grenades, silent take-downs, and all that. He suspected that his counterpart, Britta, was the better marksman of the two of them, but he...was probably the better killer. He'd gone through the fullness of training to survive, holding nothing back because he wanted everybody to live. So, he'd been focused on that until the clearance zone, where they had observation of the area and the cavalry.
And then, it hit him.
It hit him like a brick to the face, like the BOOM-BOOM-BOOM of the mortars of Hill 58, when they had to duck and run out of there once it was safe. Cavalry horsemen were going to charge on the weakest points to break the lines? But they weren't armed for the kind of stuff they saw at Hill 58, at all! You couldn't fire guns accurately at full charge! He'd ridden horses! You're bouncing up and down at full gallop, so who could possibly do anything right? Unless they all had machine guns, and they didn't! Isaac realized this with a cold shock overcoming him. If any of them even made it...it would be a miracle. Britta, nearby and behind him, must've come to the same conclusion and grabbed his shoulder as the horses lined up for the charge.
"Isaac-"
"I know."
"But our training-"
"I know..."
"We have to say something."
"No one will hear, or care. They won't stop it."
There was nothing they could do. If they had machine gun nests... Everyone here knew hill 58, but Isaac and Britta had both been trained specifically on the machine gun, in the best ways to strike at a charging enemy. A cavalry charge was just a big target. You could cause great chaos in the ranks of it with the appropriate gunfire. He knew. He knew and he'd simply forgot because of his focus on the mission. Those people were gonna die...they and all those beautiful horses...and he could do nothing to stop it. Isaac looked around, his thoughts turning to...yes, there. A little hard to pick her out in the new uniform with the helmet on, but there she was.
"Lucia, could I have a moment?"
The silver-haired Asseni looked over at him, a quizzical look on her face.
"Yes, Isaac...sir?"
"You don't have to call me sir."
"Okay, what is it?"
"What do you think of this uniform? I don't think it works for me. Looks kind of ugly, don't you think?"
He called her attention away from the field just as the call to charge went up, making conversation and trying to get her engaged with it, all the while counting the seconds towards the inevitable sound of gunfire. She smiled, she even laughed, and Isaac tried to keep it up, himself. He glanced back and saw Britta's head just lowered. The farm boy was just trying to get her to punch his flak vest to feel how solid it was when they both heard it.
Oh god, the noise...the cries...
It was shrill and terrible, the sound of life being lost en masse, not just human but also equine. The look on both of their faces, the horror of it, was palpable. Lucia turned to look at what was going on and Isaac pulled her back, just holding tight at the knowledge of her mounting distress.
"Don't look. Just...don't. It'll be over soon."
He could hear her trying to contain it, but he knew that Lucia must have been in tears, the way she shook at the mere imagination of what was going on. The terror of the war had a stamp on her that was unremoveable. Still, she'd managed her voice through all of this.
"Did...did you know that going to happen...?"
"Yes, I did. I'm a Gunner, so my training... I'm sorry. There's nothing I could do. If it means anything, I know now how you felt back in the trenches."
Orders made her shoot someone while looking them in the eyes. Orders made him stay here - by force, if necessary - to stand there and do nothing about the people that were going to be killed, just killed. There was nothing to be gained from this. They were slaughtered, and it may as well have been his own bullets doing it. Because nobody would have listened and he would have been just hauled away, he was just as powerless to the command as Lucia had been, effectively murdering their own people for nothing. He looked around and saw others trying to keep people from looking directly at it. Jean was focusing a couple of the girls. Michael was calling the sappers to attention. He was doing what he thought best.
"I won't let this happen to any of us. I won't let Middleton sacrifice us like that. I swear I won't..."
PREPARATION
Time had passed.
The train flung towards Amone had been a kind of respite. Though there hadn't been much to do on board, the 15th Atlantic Rifles had spent some time getting re-asserted into themselves, after that first initial shock of war to their system. People like Jean and Lucia and Michael, who had been so heavily affected by their first day - seemed human again instead of walking dead. And though others - like Isaac, for instance - were not so overtly harmed at the time, it's not to say there were no scars. Merely...they bore with it and moved on, because they had to. People handle the dark times in their lives differently, at different rates, or..they do not at all. Isaac was personally glad to see that everyone he had met and grown to like and understand in the 15th could laugh and love their lives again. He knew that they were not fully-recovered, that such a remedy to them all would take years...or never come at all. He was simply glad to see that the delicate thread of sanity had not snapped under pressure for them all. They just had to hang in there and deal with things, one day at a time. 'No task is insurmountable, just requiring the appropriate footwork.' That was something else is father told him.
Isaac wished that someone like his father were in charge, instead of Middleton. Lieu- No, Captain Middleton was just a granite-boned asshole who needed to get his eyes checked. He thought he was talking to hardened soldiers molded from clay to a task, but he didn't see that they were just people - some of them unwilling, some of them aangry, and all of them scared. Even Isaac was scared, in some dark corner of his mind where he kept his common sense. He put it away every time he trained wolves and now when he went to battle. It said 'Forget sense! I need instinct! I have to protect, look after, hunt, kill!'. Putting his mind in that of a canine who was transitioning from the wild thoughts to the trust of a new alpha, a human alpha, was a helpful focus. Hunt, feed, protect - strong emotional responses to times of need. His father trusted in his ability, his way of looking at things, and he did not rush him. The Imperial Army was in a rush. Maybe if the Federation just laid trap after trap, they'd kill themselves instead of getting so many people killed by clashing like deer with gunpowder antlers, everything exploding...
They'd spent so much time, the lot of them, talking and listening to things. Lucia was telling them about an incredible cathedral. Isaac wasn't one for art, but he could appreciate the complexity of architecture, the work and the craftmanship going into things. These massive monoliths built to stand the test of time were suppose to be forever. Kind of sad that a few mortars could end all that. That was the other half of war. The first was the shock and the terror. The last was the sadness and the loss. If someone blew up his farm, they'd rebuild it. The community would help, even. If someone blew up a cathedral, good fucking luck. Things built to last take a long time and alot of money. War cost people so much that you can hardly compile what the Imperials would owe to satisfy the world they were butchering. If they won this, if they beat them, that country might dissolve. Would it be worth it? Would it matter to him, or anyone who isn't a General or a otherwise position of power?
Their time of arrival was soon at hand, and that meant it was time for everybody to pick up their stuff and get going. Isaac made the rounds after Baker had given the order, calling for everybody to do just that, one name at a time. He wasn't hard. He would never be too hard on these guys, just firm. He had to be like his father, authoritive and wise, not shouting and irritating. Wolves do not bark, and hybrids maybe not often or ever. Make your howl known and move on. That was the way. Outside... Well, it was murky, but at least it wasn't raining this time. Isaac didn't like the rain, and after the first day...he doubted anyone else did either. Soon, they were out there and Middleton was coming to address his troops. As soon as he did, though, Isaac's first thought was...
Good lord, he's got one of those officer coats on.
He did, though. Middleton was wearing one of those coats - call 'em trenchcoats or greatcoats - that all the officers had, some of which seemed to be donned specifically to look and feel important, regardless of whether or not anything were truly accorded such. Knowing how the man thought, Isaac was certain that the Captain was definitely on a 'feel important' kick, looking good in front of everybody for all the vain and unnecessary reasons. Middleton started giving off his report and orders. First, it seemed that they were being split into squads. He felt confident that everyone they were with would be concidered reliableand trustworthy by all, and if they did not, then fuck you. He did not SAY that, specifically, but that is what he essentially meant. Jean was in charge of Squad One, and chances are that meant that the people surrounding him now - the people he'd been bonding with on the train - were going to be with him. He and Daniel needed to support Jean, to make sure leadership didn't break him over its knee like dry kindling. Daniel wasn't...extremely supporting. He was rather blunt, which could help or hurt, dependent on the circumstance of things. That didn't sit well with Isaac, but he'd try to manage him, if possible. If the wolf is nipping at your heels, you must dissuade him.
Now uhh...there was another instruction that Middleton had before he left. Before they were to gear up on all the stuff they would need for the day, they needed to go and change their uniforms. What Why? Well, he had to line up and get into the stores area to find out. Once inside...
"So, why are we changing our uniforms, exactly?"
The man handing him his stuff just looked at him and spoke.
"I dunno. Someone thought this was better for fitting in, meshing with then environment, and whatnot."
"We're going into a city, though, and this is...what? Forest? Dry dirt and grass? That doesn't fit in. This does."
He pointed out his own heavy flak vest.
"Where'd you get that, then? It's not standard, is it?"
"My drill sergeant thought I'd earned it. He wanted me to last longer if I got in the way of a few bullets."
"Well, I won't take it from a man what's trying to keep himself alive. That'd be a sin. Put it on over or under or whatever, but you gotta change, same as everyone else."
Over, then. He was sure that this was gonna stick out in the city, whereas his flak vest would make him less visible in the shadows, at least. Middleton's taste in soldier attire was about as bad as his own personal tastes. If they were ambushing troops in the woods, sure, but this was a bad choice. Still, he soon joined everyone else as they started to gather. Prior to marching, Jean wanted to outline the overall plan for them. This, Isaac became extremely attentive towards. He needed to know what it was he was protecting everyone FROM and FOR. Very important stuff. Apparently, they were going to cut off supply tunnels once they got into the city, part of a massive movement to break the seige by piecemeal. A long task...with appropriate footwork...one hoped. However, there were alot of things that would be hard to account for. This was a maze of streets, not a trench war. It would be like playing tag with guns, and it was not funny. Worse, the noise. Fire a gun and it could bring all kinds of attention on you, and you didn't know if it would be friend or foe, or just townspeople trying to stay alive. Jean was right to be worried, and to warn them all. Some of them seemed hopeful, Isaac tried to encourage Lucia's smile with one of his own, because it was a plan, and it sounded like it could work.
At least it's not some glory charge, like last time.
Oh, how Isaac was was going to eat those words later, when he finally worked it out.
CAVALRY CHARGE
The march onwards was long, and Isaac had been mainly focused on how he was going to keep things together once they got moving. He hadn't been thinking of the first part of the plan, about the cavaliers. He thought of tactics and the teachings that his drill sergeant had imprinted on him: The problems of noise and how to deal with them, combat in rooms, dealing with soldiers around corners, being watchful of grenades, silent take-downs, and all that. He suspected that his counterpart, Britta, was the better marksman of the two of them, but he...was probably the better killer. He'd gone through the fullness of training to survive, holding nothing back because he wanted everybody to live. So, he'd been focused on that until the clearance zone, where they had observation of the area and the cavalry.
And then, it hit him.
It hit him like a brick to the face, like the BOOM-BOOM-BOOM of the mortars of Hill 58, when they had to duck and run out of there once it was safe. Cavalry horsemen were going to charge on the weakest points to break the lines? But they weren't armed for the kind of stuff they saw at Hill 58, at all! You couldn't fire guns accurately at full charge! He'd ridden horses! You're bouncing up and down at full gallop, so who could possibly do anything right? Unless they all had machine guns, and they didn't! Isaac realized this with a cold shock overcoming him. If any of them even made it...it would be a miracle. Britta, nearby and behind him, must've come to the same conclusion and grabbed his shoulder as the horses lined up for the charge.
"Isaac-"
"I know."
"But our training-"
"I know..."
"We have to say something."
"No one will hear, or care. They won't stop it."
There was nothing they could do. If they had machine gun nests... Everyone here knew hill 58, but Isaac and Britta had both been trained specifically on the machine gun, in the best ways to strike at a charging enemy. A cavalry charge was just a big target. You could cause great chaos in the ranks of it with the appropriate gunfire. He knew. He knew and he'd simply forgot because of his focus on the mission. Those people were gonna die...they and all those beautiful horses...and he could do nothing to stop it. Isaac looked around, his thoughts turning to...yes, there. A little hard to pick her out in the new uniform with the helmet on, but there she was.
"Lucia, could I have a moment?"
The silver-haired Asseni looked over at him, a quizzical look on her face.
"Yes, Isaac...sir?"
"You don't have to call me sir."
"Okay, what is it?"
"What do you think of this uniform? I don't think it works for me. Looks kind of ugly, don't you think?"
He called her attention away from the field just as the call to charge went up, making conversation and trying to get her engaged with it, all the while counting the seconds towards the inevitable sound of gunfire. She smiled, she even laughed, and Isaac tried to keep it up, himself. He glanced back and saw Britta's head just lowered. The farm boy was just trying to get her to punch his flak vest to feel how solid it was when they both heard it.
Oh god, the noise...the cries...
It was shrill and terrible, the sound of life being lost en masse, not just human but also equine. The look on both of their faces, the horror of it, was palpable. Lucia turned to look at what was going on and Isaac pulled her back, just holding tight at the knowledge of her mounting distress.
"Don't look. Just...don't. It'll be over soon."
He could hear her trying to contain it, but he knew that Lucia must have been in tears, the way she shook at the mere imagination of what was going on. The terror of the war had a stamp on her that was unremoveable. Still, she'd managed her voice through all of this.
"Did...did you know that going to happen...?"
"Yes, I did. I'm a Gunner, so my training... I'm sorry. There's nothing I could do. If it means anything, I know now how you felt back in the trenches."
Orders made her shoot someone while looking them in the eyes. Orders made him stay here - by force, if necessary - to stand there and do nothing about the people that were going to be killed, just killed. There was nothing to be gained from this. They were slaughtered, and it may as well have been his own bullets doing it. Because nobody would have listened and he would have been just hauled away, he was just as powerless to the command as Lucia had been, effectively murdering their own people for nothing. He looked around and saw others trying to keep people from looking directly at it. Jean was focusing a couple of the girls. Michael was calling the sappers to attention. He was doing what he thought best.
"I won't let this happen to any of us. I won't let Middleton sacrifice us like that. I swear I won't..."
((Collab between Letter Bee and FalloutJack))
Flashback, Four Years Ago
Alexander Sky had been initiated in flame, capturing three Denver-Vegas aces and their NCs in just three months of combat and destroying dozens of conventional vehicles. Now, the southernmost reaches of Japan had been reconqured from rebels and their American supporters, and stories of the young Slave-Pilot who had brought Red-Star such glory were spreading among the Chinese forces stationed in Kyushu, where Red-Star had retaken the Nagasaki Burrow and the Corporate assets stationed there. Alexander knew that freedom as a 'Comrade-Pilot' was coming soon, if only he can win more captures or kills.
But despite that, other thoughts occupied his mind. As he was allowed free time to walk the corridors of Fukoka Military Base - Another Red-Star stronghold - Alexander was... Worried. Worried that he might need to see 'The Room' once more. 'The Room' confirmed his loyalty by 'reformatting' his brain, but it also diminished his effectiveness in an NC. But what else to do when he had disloyal thoughts?
Reluctantly, he began to go to where Red-Star's instruments of torment and brainwashing were...
While Alexander had made a name of himself with his expertise, there was talk among both pilots and technician, of things overheard about the human-plus project. Years of work on the new process, and now...they were saying it was nearing completion. You would almost wonder why anyone would go to the trouble, when you could just train up someone - be they slave or comrade - to handle things, but then...this was no ordinary thing. They wanted a pilot that blew all current standards right out of the water, a human being who could not fail. Or even if they DID fail, it would be at a high cost for the enemy.
They never stated who their prime candidate was, but rumor had it that the NC model known as Id was their mech, and rumors of that machine had been flying, as well. Fast, powerful and flight-capable. Those were the words they used, and the pilot would be able to sync incredibly well with that. All of these things would not exactly prepare you for when you happened to...oh say...meet her just in the hall...with a bowl of ice cream.
Terra was, at the moment, absorbed. She didn't have to be, but there were two important facts right now that mattered a great deal. First, she could crank up her enjoyment of things just by thinking it. And second, she was focusing like this because, after having gotten through some recent testing, she needed a break to cool herself down. They were nearly done with calibrations, but there were hormones that she was having a hard time dealing with, at times. This was one outlet, but there were umm...others.
All Alex would see was a black-haired girl dressed in jeans and a short-sleeve shirt.
This young woman was certainly a Comrade-Pilot, Alexander thought. He could see it in the way she carried herself. That and Ice Cream was a rare privilege for Slave-Pilots. So he waited for Terra to come his way, then gave a slight bow before he asked:
"Comrade-Pilot, what brings you here?" He then felt compelled to remind her that, "This Slave-Pilot has been ordered to serve every Comrade any way they know how as long as it does not damage thier ability to fight."
Terra had not been entirely paying attention to her surroundings, of course, yet she wasn't in danger of bumping into things, either. She stopped when Alexander addressed her, her violet eyes shifting focus to find a slave pilot around her age standing there. Her eyes picked out details of her surroundings, not seeing an identifying serial number, then went back to him.
"Which section did I just wander into? And why are you talking in the third-person?"
There was no need to remind her what slave pilots were for. She knew well enough. The only real question was why this one in particular seemed to be drawing attention to himself.
Alexander did not react to her surprise, but answered promptly. "Oh, you are just a few corridors away from 'The Room', Lady Comrade. I was going there to recieve enlightenment anew to shed potentially compromising thoughts. Nevertheless, if you wish to administer punishment and incentive yourself, I am in no position to stop you."
He looked at her, briefly glancing at her face and form. She was beautiful... Just as he was handsome, his natural good looks and athletic build honed by diet and exercise. Alexander nevertheless hoped she would not force him to give... His body, not that it was his own anyway. The boy shuddered involuntarily, then took a step back away from her as he realized what he had done. Was this his end?
You know, it's funny he thought about that, because she actually had used some people that way. Slaves were the easiest to get, since they had to follow her commands, but there were some exceptions. It was these damn raging hormones. They too were stronger than a normal human, just like alot of parts of her, and when puberty set in, she couldn't just tell them to be quiet. It was a new faculty. It needed time to adjust. It was like being a child again, in that sense. Asking someone to go with her was, in essence, stress management, and frankly...some even enjoyed it. Right now, though, Terra was more confused, than anything. It even showed on her face.
"Why would I be wanting to do that? The Room is for modifying dissidents and traitors. You're here without guards, ergo you follow orders. Do you always follow orders that do nothing but harm you? They need more than loyalty in this place. He need careful consideration and cohesive thought. I don't think The Room will do much for one who would head there willingly."
Alexander blinked at that, and said, "But nevertheless, I have errant thoughts; and it is not my choice to refuse to follow orders." A pause, as he smiled slightly. "That said, I can follow a different and more recent set of commands if you are willing to give them."
She thought about this for a second, mildly annoyed by the single-mindedness or the pretense of single-mindedness he was showing. Then, she said...
"Follow me, and tell me what you were thinking."
...before starting to walk off. Had to finish this bowl. It was melting, after all.
A nod as the Slave-Pilot followed behind her, saying, "It is about my old mentor, Cody Ang. He had abandoned the cause and deserted Red-Star forces just last year, and I could not comprehend why." A pause. "I also captured three Pilots these past three months; all of them Denver-Vegas Imperialists. Two were of my own age group, and I feel... Regret and guilt that they are to be broken and used as Slave-Pilots. Should I not feel joy that they would be enlightened by pain to fight beside us in the future?"
This was an issue that hit somewhat close to home Not just because she was a part of Red-Star, mind you, but because she had used pain to enlighten some thick-headed people in the past, herself. They were doing things that were causing unnecessary harm, bullying. Beating the shit out of them tended to stop that. Terra shook her head.
"Slave-Pilots have one goal: To not be slaves anymore. Administering pain is a means of control. In essence, it is to make you more of a slave. These principles are incompatible, especially when you consider that it can affect pilot synchronicity. They don't dare try that on me because everything must be perfect for at least the trial run. Good pilots yield good results. Damaged pilots are erratic and unpredictable. Case in point, your mentor."
Alexander replied, "That makes sense, Lady Comrade. So my mentor was - is - damaged? But he's always been a Comrade; how can he have been damaged?"
She finished her ice cream and just held the bowl now, glancing over at him.
"You mean he was your mentor and you have no idea what problems he had, real or imagined? Maybe his student disappointed him. Or maybe other things..."
She seemed to be considering that, but then she added.
"Oh, and don't call me Lady Comrade. I haven't begun piloting yet. My name is Terra Laedo."
The boy was worked up to a fury, clenching and unclenching his fists as he cried out, facing her with a sweat covered brow, "I would never, ever disappoint Sifu Cody, Terra Laedo!"
Breathing hard, he would add a qualifier, "Not knowingly..."
He then looked down at his feet, his fists only lightly clenched now, "There was news about an airstrike, though, that his superiors ordered on a city being contested by enemy forces. Many of his comrades died there and the civilian population of the town." Alexander then faced her again. "But he would... He should not question orders like that anyway, and he shouldn't have left!"
"Why would anybody stay when you destroy what they want to protect? Pain does not make you happy to kill those of whom you value."
His anger did nothing but keep her wary in case he wanted to lash out, as she placed the bowl upon the ground.
"What is the most important thing in your life, pilot?"
Alexander's gaze firmed and tightened as he said, "My parents. I want to win their freedom and mine."
Terra nodded at this. It was something she could relate to more directly. She had her parents. They were kept around to share in decent living conditions like her and she was able to be raised like a normal human being. They did this...in order to manage her, she believed. Because she loved them, and Red-Star had power over them, they were all basically threatened.
"And if they were to die? What then? What happens when something you care deeply about is taken from you, or that you would be forced to sacrifice that thing, personally?"
The boy pursed his lips, "I am not talking treason."
A slight angle of his head; enough for his eyes to glint with reflected light. It was clear he knew his answer to that and wanted to convey it to Terra with plausible deniability.
Now, she smirked, just a little.
"Well, if you're not talking treason, you couldn't possibly need any pain enlightenment. You understand perfectly what needs to be done."
Alexander smiled widely, and he stretched out his right hand, saying, "You're a smart person, Terra Laedo. Do you want to be friends?"
She crossed her arms a moment as her smirked deepened, and she said...
"Friends have names. It seems unfair that I don't have yours."
A chuckle, as he said, "Alexander Sky, from the Gansu Provincial Breeding Camp. I'm of Volkov pedigree."
He waited for her to shake his hand.
She took his hand and shook it properly, even smiled.
"Terra Laedo, human plus project. I was born to kill everyone."
This was spoken matter-of-factly, completely straight-faced. If they hadn't had the previous conversation, Alex would think her to be some kind of engineered psychopath. But this girl, this experimental pilot, had just helped him understand She was no more telling the truth than his not talking about treachery. Oh...big agendas... The future had ALOT in store...
Flashback, Four Years Ago
Alexander Sky had been initiated in flame, capturing three Denver-Vegas aces and their NCs in just three months of combat and destroying dozens of conventional vehicles. Now, the southernmost reaches of Japan had been reconqured from rebels and their American supporters, and stories of the young Slave-Pilot who had brought Red-Star such glory were spreading among the Chinese forces stationed in Kyushu, where Red-Star had retaken the Nagasaki Burrow and the Corporate assets stationed there. Alexander knew that freedom as a 'Comrade-Pilot' was coming soon, if only he can win more captures or kills.
But despite that, other thoughts occupied his mind. As he was allowed free time to walk the corridors of Fukoka Military Base - Another Red-Star stronghold - Alexander was... Worried. Worried that he might need to see 'The Room' once more. 'The Room' confirmed his loyalty by 'reformatting' his brain, but it also diminished his effectiveness in an NC. But what else to do when he had disloyal thoughts?
Reluctantly, he began to go to where Red-Star's instruments of torment and brainwashing were...
While Alexander had made a name of himself with his expertise, there was talk among both pilots and technician, of things overheard about the human-plus project. Years of work on the new process, and now...they were saying it was nearing completion. You would almost wonder why anyone would go to the trouble, when you could just train up someone - be they slave or comrade - to handle things, but then...this was no ordinary thing. They wanted a pilot that blew all current standards right out of the water, a human being who could not fail. Or even if they DID fail, it would be at a high cost for the enemy.
They never stated who their prime candidate was, but rumor had it that the NC model known as Id was their mech, and rumors of that machine had been flying, as well. Fast, powerful and flight-capable. Those were the words they used, and the pilot would be able to sync incredibly well with that. All of these things would not exactly prepare you for when you happened to...oh say...meet her just in the hall...with a bowl of ice cream.
Terra was, at the moment, absorbed. She didn't have to be, but there were two important facts right now that mattered a great deal. First, she could crank up her enjoyment of things just by thinking it. And second, she was focusing like this because, after having gotten through some recent testing, she needed a break to cool herself down. They were nearly done with calibrations, but there were hormones that she was having a hard time dealing with, at times. This was one outlet, but there were umm...others.
All Alex would see was a black-haired girl dressed in jeans and a short-sleeve shirt.
This young woman was certainly a Comrade-Pilot, Alexander thought. He could see it in the way she carried herself. That and Ice Cream was a rare privilege for Slave-Pilots. So he waited for Terra to come his way, then gave a slight bow before he asked:
"Comrade-Pilot, what brings you here?" He then felt compelled to remind her that, "This Slave-Pilot has been ordered to serve every Comrade any way they know how as long as it does not damage thier ability to fight."
Terra had not been entirely paying attention to her surroundings, of course, yet she wasn't in danger of bumping into things, either. She stopped when Alexander addressed her, her violet eyes shifting focus to find a slave pilot around her age standing there. Her eyes picked out details of her surroundings, not seeing an identifying serial number, then went back to him.
"Which section did I just wander into? And why are you talking in the third-person?"
There was no need to remind her what slave pilots were for. She knew well enough. The only real question was why this one in particular seemed to be drawing attention to himself.
Alexander did not react to her surprise, but answered promptly. "Oh, you are just a few corridors away from 'The Room', Lady Comrade. I was going there to recieve enlightenment anew to shed potentially compromising thoughts. Nevertheless, if you wish to administer punishment and incentive yourself, I am in no position to stop you."
He looked at her, briefly glancing at her face and form. She was beautiful... Just as he was handsome, his natural good looks and athletic build honed by diet and exercise. Alexander nevertheless hoped she would not force him to give... His body, not that it was his own anyway. The boy shuddered involuntarily, then took a step back away from her as he realized what he had done. Was this his end?
You know, it's funny he thought about that, because she actually had used some people that way. Slaves were the easiest to get, since they had to follow her commands, but there were some exceptions. It was these damn raging hormones. They too were stronger than a normal human, just like alot of parts of her, and when puberty set in, she couldn't just tell them to be quiet. It was a new faculty. It needed time to adjust. It was like being a child again, in that sense. Asking someone to go with her was, in essence, stress management, and frankly...some even enjoyed it. Right now, though, Terra was more confused, than anything. It even showed on her face.
"Why would I be wanting to do that? The Room is for modifying dissidents and traitors. You're here without guards, ergo you follow orders. Do you always follow orders that do nothing but harm you? They need more than loyalty in this place. He need careful consideration and cohesive thought. I don't think The Room will do much for one who would head there willingly."
Alexander blinked at that, and said, "But nevertheless, I have errant thoughts; and it is not my choice to refuse to follow orders." A pause, as he smiled slightly. "That said, I can follow a different and more recent set of commands if you are willing to give them."
She thought about this for a second, mildly annoyed by the single-mindedness or the pretense of single-mindedness he was showing. Then, she said...
"Follow me, and tell me what you were thinking."
...before starting to walk off. Had to finish this bowl. It was melting, after all.
A nod as the Slave-Pilot followed behind her, saying, "It is about my old mentor, Cody Ang. He had abandoned the cause and deserted Red-Star forces just last year, and I could not comprehend why." A pause. "I also captured three Pilots these past three months; all of them Denver-Vegas Imperialists. Two were of my own age group, and I feel... Regret and guilt that they are to be broken and used as Slave-Pilots. Should I not feel joy that they would be enlightened by pain to fight beside us in the future?"
This was an issue that hit somewhat close to home Not just because she was a part of Red-Star, mind you, but because she had used pain to enlighten some thick-headed people in the past, herself. They were doing things that were causing unnecessary harm, bullying. Beating the shit out of them tended to stop that. Terra shook her head.
"Slave-Pilots have one goal: To not be slaves anymore. Administering pain is a means of control. In essence, it is to make you more of a slave. These principles are incompatible, especially when you consider that it can affect pilot synchronicity. They don't dare try that on me because everything must be perfect for at least the trial run. Good pilots yield good results. Damaged pilots are erratic and unpredictable. Case in point, your mentor."
Alexander replied, "That makes sense, Lady Comrade. So my mentor was - is - damaged? But he's always been a Comrade; how can he have been damaged?"
She finished her ice cream and just held the bowl now, glancing over at him.
"You mean he was your mentor and you have no idea what problems he had, real or imagined? Maybe his student disappointed him. Or maybe other things..."
She seemed to be considering that, but then she added.
"Oh, and don't call me Lady Comrade. I haven't begun piloting yet. My name is Terra Laedo."
The boy was worked up to a fury, clenching and unclenching his fists as he cried out, facing her with a sweat covered brow, "I would never, ever disappoint Sifu Cody, Terra Laedo!"
Breathing hard, he would add a qualifier, "Not knowingly..."
He then looked down at his feet, his fists only lightly clenched now, "There was news about an airstrike, though, that his superiors ordered on a city being contested by enemy forces. Many of his comrades died there and the civilian population of the town." Alexander then faced her again. "But he would... He should not question orders like that anyway, and he shouldn't have left!"
"Why would anybody stay when you destroy what they want to protect? Pain does not make you happy to kill those of whom you value."
His anger did nothing but keep her wary in case he wanted to lash out, as she placed the bowl upon the ground.
"What is the most important thing in your life, pilot?"
Alexander's gaze firmed and tightened as he said, "My parents. I want to win their freedom and mine."
Terra nodded at this. It was something she could relate to more directly. She had her parents. They were kept around to share in decent living conditions like her and she was able to be raised like a normal human being. They did this...in order to manage her, she believed. Because she loved them, and Red-Star had power over them, they were all basically threatened.
"And if they were to die? What then? What happens when something you care deeply about is taken from you, or that you would be forced to sacrifice that thing, personally?"
The boy pursed his lips, "I am not talking treason."
A slight angle of his head; enough for his eyes to glint with reflected light. It was clear he knew his answer to that and wanted to convey it to Terra with plausible deniability.
Now, she smirked, just a little.
"Well, if you're not talking treason, you couldn't possibly need any pain enlightenment. You understand perfectly what needs to be done."
Alexander smiled widely, and he stretched out his right hand, saying, "You're a smart person, Terra Laedo. Do you want to be friends?"
She crossed her arms a moment as her smirked deepened, and she said...
"Friends have names. It seems unfair that I don't have yours."
A chuckle, as he said, "Alexander Sky, from the Gansu Provincial Breeding Camp. I'm of Volkov pedigree."
He waited for her to shake his hand.
She took his hand and shook it properly, even smiled.
"Terra Laedo, human plus project. I was born to kill everyone."
This was spoken matter-of-factly, completely straight-faced. If they hadn't had the previous conversation, Alex would think her to be some kind of engineered psychopath. But this girl, this experimental pilot, had just helped him understand She was no more telling the truth than his not talking about treachery. Oh...big agendas... The future had ALOT in store...
What corridor? It's an open doorway. Shoot between his legs if you have to.
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