Untitled

Mother Confessor:

Reporting to the Major for armor training. He silently leads me to my frame. This is highly unusual as this was not typical.

Coming to a halt in front of the large machine setting in wait. He looks it up and down, almost inspecting it. He then does the same to me, the faintest hint of a smile on his lips.

“Well, my dear get this rig ready and loaded. You have a big day tomorrow” , he says to me.

“Sir”, I ask, looking quizzically at him.

“What part do you not understand? I have already sent the order down to the ammo depot for your armaments. You will report there after going over your rig, making sure it is ready to go”, the Major replies.

“Yes, sir. And then what”, I ask him.

“You are to stage your frame for transport in the hangar bay for transport. Anything else you need to know”, he explains.

“No, sir”, accepting his answer.

“Good. Get on it”, he orders.

“Right away, sir”, giving my obedience.

He nods curtly, turning on his heels. I watch him take a few strides away. For some reason he pauses for a moment or so. Turning his head slightly.

“Watch your tail, and happy hunting” , he says to me.

“Thank you, sir”, I bellow back.

Turning to the war frame, listening to his boots as he departs. Just you and me now, peering up at the large machine. Walking over to the small maintenance station to the left of the machine. There is a short memo posted about a software update outlining that the Uldivarions will show up as friendlies on the HUD radar. Well this is good to know. Disposing of the short document, and retrieving the inspection checklist from the small table.

With clipboard in hand, I begin the tedious task of inspecting the frame. Starting with the mechanical, hydraulics, and armor portion of the list. Keying up the diagnostic console connected to the machines mainframe. The screen displays the details of the most recent maintenance done to it. Glancing over the information, I retrieve a small flash light and set about my inspection.

Switching the light on. Peering down into the joints of the frame making a visual assessment of what the diagnostic has displayed. Checking off each little detail on my checklist as each appears to be complacent with the diagnostic read out.

Working my way from the large feet, all the way to the shoulders and head. Utilizing the magnetic ladder to cover every last centimeter. Signing off on each and every last detail after scrutinizing it for fault.

Taking a few slow hours in the process. Completing the task, I replace the magnetic maintenance ladder back on the wall. Cuing up the software and systems diagnostic, and placing the small light back where it belongs. Walking over to the ladder mounted to the wall to the right of the frame. I begin my ascent to the cockpit hatch. Keying my security code into the small recess beside the head. The breastplate begins to open with a hiss. Climbing back down to the lowered thick armor plating. Taking a quick glance of the interior of the cockpit. Making sure all the emergency protocol items, such as med kit, rations, and fire extinguisher are all in place. Noting that the weapons storage is empty until I report to the ammo depot. Taking my place in the pilot seat. Sealing myself inside the cockpit. Encapsulated in near darkness, the only light coming from the start up switches above the HUD. Flipping each in turn with my slender fingers. The familiar hum of the engine and gyro stabilizers come online.

Flipping HUD switch next to the small key pad. The darkness disappears as the armor depot displays brightly before me. Radar picks up both the other frames, as well as the many busy soldiers working. The targeting system ignores them, as the many blue dots roam around the radar. On the small keypad I cue up the backups for review. The on board computer displays this information on the HUD. Scrolling through the lengthy data looking for errors.

“Backup systems at one hundred percent”, the computer says once the process has finished.

Good to hear, now what about software updates? Keying in the command for new updates.

“One new update to system memory archive. Uldivarion units target as ally units on radar”, the computer announces.

Having already got the memo, this is no surprise. Signing off on the few system checks so far. Keying up the weapons systems. The HUD displays they are on standby. All weapons slots display empty, but functional. Toggling the comms for a test.

“This is under-lance of second squad, Private Corlixia. Do you read”, I ask the tech on duty.

“Loud and clear”, he says over the comm..

“Requesting release of all moorings”, I tell him.

“Granted Private Corlixia”, he replies. A dull clang rings inside the cockpit, as my frame is released.

My hand gently pushes on the throttle. The engine hums louder as I maneuver the machine a pace from the docking. Throttling back to an idle. Testing the limbs of the medium armor. Each checks out smooth and ready for duty. Backing the frame back into the dock. Opening the cockpit. Exiting to the ladder with the completed forms. Climbing down and placing the checklist on the maintenance table face down to show it is completed. Heading back to ladder, I climb back to the open cockpit. Sealing myself back inside. Right hand on the throttle, levering it up to low gear. Beginning my trek in the lumbering machine toward the ammo depot.

“Head to the indicated NAV point on your display”, the computer says to me.

A white triangle displays on the HUD, beside it is the remaining meters to the NAV point. Complying with the instruction. Maneuvering the war frame to the waypoint, despite it indicating the ammo depot.

Throttling down the frame back to an idle. The crew in the depot begin arming the machine. Using a modified loader to mount the light field mortar to the right shoulder. The weapons systems display it: LF M– 20: on the HUD. Next the a small rocket battery, and anti- armor missile pods on the right shoulder. The HUD displays them once mounted: RP-15, AAM-10. All lining up on the weapons systems queue. Having me open the cockpit for hand held weapons. They hand me a eight mil coil SMG, and a twelve mil coil pistol. An extra magazine for both. I stow them in the mounting behind the pilot seat. Throughout the entire process the two crewman bicker in hush tones, about how I am going to see action and they were not.

“Collect your light coil cannon and four magazines, then proceed to your next NAV, Private Burvonn”, One of them says before clearing my path. Maneuvering the lumbering armor to the hand held weapons rack. Collecting three of the large high capacity magazines, magnetizing them at the waist of the frame. Pulling the cannon from the rigging, I slap the fourth into the breach. LCC –300, displays at the base of the weapons list on the HUD.

The light cannon hanging across the armored breastplate, at the new NAV point.

“Pilot be advised, weapons system on standby. Strap in, autopilot will now direct you to your destination. Do not touch the controls”, the computer instructs me. Deftly buckling myself to the seat. The autopilot takes over. Taking the ‘death hall’ as some call it. In reality it is just a massive corridor for the armor to get to the hangar, or to the main deck of the ship. It is interesting to be in the bottom of the large war ship, and to be able to travel half way in a few minutes. Much faster than on foot. None the less it is enjoyable to get access to a part of the ship that is not as well traveled daily. Next stop, the armor staging station in the hangar only a deck over head.

Marckus:

Much to my surprise things are moving ahead of schedule. Not that this bothers me, quite the opposite. Commander Kionnxxia is more the ready to relinquish a small ship and an armor pilot with field experience. Major Rinvon was also forth coming in having the pretty blue Private under my command. After all he is right that we all have to learn the hardships of combat at some point. Whether we are ready for them or not. Graxis seemed a little ill at ease at the notion since he has mentored her. Though it is not like I was going to take her into a full scale war zone for her first time. More of a quick run in and wreck up things type of situation.

Finding it equally entertaining and odd that the Martian Colonial has left the Confederation base standing at all. From the pictures that Graxis had shown me, the base was from the break away war between the two factions. Not that there could not be some form activity still going on inside. The most likely type would be that of Mercenaries. They have been known to work hand in hand with the Confederation as private contractors. More or less expensive cannon fodder, at least in my opinion. Never really cared for the spineless gun slingers, that will do anything for a price.

The final step as we come closer to Terra. Time to send the Chairmen and Confederation my little message I have instilled in Commander Riley. Give them a chance to prepare for the hell that is coming. A small token of maritime grace, though they do not deserve it.

Graxis:

Watching the end of the asteroid field pass, taking a sip of coffee on the bridge. The Ober-Commander will be pleased that his messenger, Commander Riley, has been sent back to Terra. Back to his Confederation masters. Peering further into the darkness, I see the faint blood drop of Mars far off in the distance.

Commander Kionnxxia had been coordinating with Hinara just before I had arrived. Catching a glimpse on the radar as the small ship made it’s way to ours. Suppose it will be better in the long run to utilize the Uldivarions diplomacy skills to allow us to pass the Colonial air space unimpeded. Now closing in on Terra, this last stretch will be in more hostile territory. The last thing we need is to get caught in a shooting gallery between the Confederation, and the Colonials. Preferable to just have one enemy to focus on, instead of two.

If all goes according to plan, should be steady going till just past Mars. The deck crew has been tripled in advance. As well as all fighters prepped for hot launch. Weapons systems have been fully brought online, and all missiles and armaments lie in wait. Not going to get caught off guard, until we own Terra’s air space. The Uldivarions have done the same.

Taking another draw on the mug. Counting the minutes until the small ship departs toward Mars ahead of our warships. Silently wishing them farewell, and safe return. Happy hunting.

The Admiral’s court martial hearing will be in a few hours. Still twists my nerves to think about how such a man could go against the Councils will. There is nothing to save him from the hammer that will be brought to bear down on his actions.

Marckus:

Waiting for the docking pad to come to rest on the hangar deck. The armor frames storage compartment beginning to open. Private Corlixia in her frame beside me. Typical of Uldivarions, and their need for efficiency to the letter. Three frames were packed into the hold of the medium sized ship.

“Kid, stow your frame and let’s get going”, I say to her.

“Yes, sir”, Private Corlixia replies.

The heavy metal feet behind me as I make my way to the crew cabin. The thundering foot falls stop, and the large hatchway begins to seal us inside. Pacing myself as I listen to the Private disembark for the frame and make her way to me.

“You scared”, I ask her standing just outside the crew cabin. The docking pad moving the ship to cycle through the hulls.

“A little, sir”, her voice hesitant and quiet.

Turning to face her. Examining her from shaved head, to boots. You sure have come a long way from when we first met. Not the sensitive, terrified creature we picked up back on Ceres. Placing a hand on her small shoulder as she peers up at me.

“Only a fool would not be”, I tell her, “Let’s go meet the rest of the gang.”

“Yes, sir”, her voice still soft and fearful.