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Mother Confessor:

The food is very inviting to my stomach, absorbing the alcohol that remained. Caffeine starting to counteract the pain in my aching head. It was also pleasant to wake up wrapped around the old soldier. Feeling special sitting at the desk of such a distinguished being. Enjoying the way he is trying to take care of me in his own militaristic way. Checking my dressings making a note to change them once back in my abattoir. I like that I am being treated with respect and not revered. This will be the first real relation I have ever had with anyone that was not disconnected and emotionally dead. The hardest thing playing on my mind is to be both feeling and unfeeling to play my part in this, until it has come to a close.

Graxis:

I started my inspection of the anomalous Titan early so I have something to give the Ober-Commander. It is a formidable piece of equipment. The armor crew busy analyzing the machine under a microscope. Listening to them as they rattle off random findings. Keeping mental notes on what they spout off. From the way they reacted to the armor plating was intriguing. I had no idea that the Terrans were developing a tougher skin, for their armored corp. Judging by some of the veteran staff, this is a prototype weapon. Rubbing my chin deep in thought, tail slowly traveling back and forth to the invisible rhythm of my pressed neurons fighting to find a possible explanation. Watching as the crew gingerly extracts a round, and each of the missiles for further investigation. I wonder what else the Terrans have up their sleeve.

Traversing the catwalk to the ladder leading to the cockpit readying myself for the ascent into the monstrosity. An easy task for the undertaking climbing up the ladder. Taking a moment to observe things from the height, like standing on a mechanical mountain. Internally laughing at the poor joke, I release the hatch to the cockpit. It is a lot more spacious than I had thought it would be. Puzzling that it is not a single pilot, but a three man crew space. Pilot, radar, and long range weapons. Well that does make it a bit easier to defend the lumbering beast as it tears apart whatever targets in front of it.

Taking the pilot seat, I gaze at the control panel. More switches in this thing than seem necessary. Throttle, weapons, maneuvers, arm controls, comms, and so forth. What seemed interesting is the radio jammer, and auto defense. Maybe the operators manual was either in gear storage, or directly on mainframe. I did not see any other weaponry outside of the obvious. Much to learn about this quizzical machine. Getting up from the pilot chair and heading to the gear storage in the rear of the cabin. Outside the hatch to the compartment there is a sign indicating that there is a lower compartment for housing.

This is a long range self-sufficient unit. Finally a logical answer suggests in my mind. Why bother with sending in a tactical squad when you can lay siege to a large area and secure it until the ground forces take over. Then use the titan as a central defense for operations and so forth. Pressing the entry pad on the compartment, after coming to this conclusion.

Striding into the smaller space and beginning a walkthrough. Weapons racks, ammo caches, and storage lockers. They sure do like to make sure to be armed to the teeth. Assault rifles of a new variant that I have never seen. Beneath the rifles were 15mm standard issue pistols. Nasty little bastards they created to replace their predecessor the .45. All the stopping power with a longer range, and highly accurate. Moving to the lockers and taking a deep breath, hoping the manual is standard issue as well. Popping open the first to my left. To my surprise there is quite a bit inside. Stacked neatly inside regulation style right on top is my prize. Glossing over the manuals cover with my eyes. The bold red stamp diagonally overlaying the word operators manual. Classified, designated personnel only, bleeding brightly from the cover. A chill washes up and down my spine. Snatching the medium thick book from its place, as if my hand were going to be struck by a poisonous serpent if I did not. Slamming the locker shut. The loud metal clang echoing in my ears. Rolling the manual up, I place it in my back pocket.

Moving to the opposite end of the compartment. There is a ladder descending into the belly of the beast. Gritting my teeth as I slide down the steel piping. Burning my hands to a moderate degree. No permanent damage done in the process, just the annoying bite of the friction remained. Turning on my heels and my eyes slowly adjusting to the near dark of this larger area. Sure enough three fold up bunks, small shower, and latrine fill my vision. Along with a cabinet marked rations. I will be damned! This thing is just loaded with all kinds of surprises, and this is only the tip of the blade. Climbing back into the storage locker, then exiting into the cockpit. Taking my place once more in the pilot chair. Thumbing through the manual with my boots resting on the console. Each page holding a small piece to this growing puzzle.

Marckus:

Leading my fragile guest along the catwalks in the armor bay. Noticing how very peculiar this must all seem to her. So alien as her world is to me. Trying not to let her hold me up to my appointment with the captain. Spying at the far end of the bay where all the activity was on going. The size of that machine with all the bluster over is massive. “Oh, wow”, the Mother Confessor exclaims in seeing the monstrous war machine. An air of concern washes across my brow as we travel the final two hundred meters to the leviathan. Unsure of what the captain is going to tell me.