It had been a long night, filled with visions.
Malcoulm woke up with the sweats, the visions never got old, regardless of how many times he experienced them. His father had always called them visions of his former self, but Mal knew it was more than that.
The visions were often of great battles, either in the void with such advanced weaponry the likes of no one in this realm had seen, other times it would be visions of fighting on horseback, wielding primitive firearms. Each vision varied in all sorts of manners, but always had a single constant, at some point in the vision the eyes he was gazing through would look into a reflection, and Malcoulm saw himself.
Always, without hesitation, he would wake up then, the sweats having soaked the bedclothes he found himself in at the given moment. On this particular eve, he was stationed in the port town of Astaria, off the great coast of the Eastern Continent, a painted lady in the bed next to him, not having stirred from her slumber as he startled awake.
"So glad someone can get some sleep around here," he said under his breath, sarcastically.
Rising, he walked to the water basin on the dresser and stared into the mirror, his eyes reflecting back in the dim light from the street outside. Eyes the color of milk, a rare genetic disorder that had followed the line of males in his family lineage. There were only 18 people in the world at any time with this disorder, as science had lead them to find out.
Splashing the tepid water onto his face he let out a low sigh, "Why can't we just go back to the times when I would of been worshiped and renowned for these fucking eyes? Much simpler it would of been." His voice was afflicted with sorrow as he spoke, the years showing their way through his words. He was 37 cycles old, and had been in the military for 22 of those cycles.
Colonel Malcoulm O'Dair, was what his badge and records would say, he however, would simply say, "Call me Mal." It was something he had been doing for years, and it always humbled him to any new recruits that found themselves in his camp. Making it easier to train them, and determine whether they were going to be soldiers or washouts.
He returned to bed, and to the visions, knowing as soon as sleep came, they too, would come to haunt him once more.
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Star Cycle: 6509, Date: 127
"Mal"
"MAL"
"MAL!"
The voice startled Malcoulm awake when it boomed in his ear, tossing him into the cruel reality that awaited him. Another skirmish, he thought, great. His dream this time had been calm, easy, this time he had awakened into the nightmare. He pushed up from his bunk and shoved Johnson aside, his Corporal. Already in his battle dress, he didn't have to worry about donning anything other than his exoharness.
"What's the situation?", he called over the battle station alarms.
"Sir... Mal.. It's a big one this time, the Eldrin Legionnaires have popped up 20 vectors away. In full battle Exes. Our scanners only just caught them in time, otherwise we would have barrelled right into their path." Johnson's voice was full of panic, Mal knew it was because of the high priority escort on their ship.
Princess LynnAstaria Regal was their sole guest on the ISS Valkyrie. The commander of the ship had been given a prime directive by the Emperor himself to see his daughter safe to the other side of the galactic empire, where she would be protected by the Wolfs Guard until the war was over.
"How many?"
"12, sir."
"Fuck me! They must know she's our charge. How many operational Exes do we have in the bays?" He made a mental count in his head before Johnson said anything, he knew they had 6 left, but giving the boy something to do would help take his mind off the situation for a few seconds.
"We've got 6 sir.. It should be plenty to handle the situation, but you should know, Article-Rose is nonoperational at the moment. So really we've only got 5 ExoSuits."
ExoSuits, or Exterior Skeletal Enhancement Suits as they were originally named, were combat suits that had originated as simple utility devices. The military however saw greater potential, and had taken the design and modified them in such a way that they were an extension of the pilot's body. A true fighting suit that allowed combatants to fight in the void of space as they fought on planet surfaces.
"What the fuck happened to Article-Rose?!" Mal had seen the Ex three hours ago, and she was in a fully operational state. If something had happened to her in those three hours it meant something bad.
"The engineers needed to scrub her core and recharge it, and they're halfway through the process right now before they can put it back in. Sir, you'll be taking charge of Potent-Nine for this battle. The closest Ex we have to AR right now. "
Malcoulm slammed his hand down on the entry button for the Ex bay, the door sliding up. Techs were frantically running around helping the pilots get into their gear and up into the docking sheath that would put them into the linkcontrols of the suits they would be piloting.
Since he hadn't taken most of his gear off, he rushed over to the station next to Potent-Nine, a green and red Ex that carried two Mag-74 primer rifles. Well, if I have to pilot anything other than Article-Rose, this is the fastest choice,he chimed to himself as he slipped on the control gloves that would link with the nerve-interfaces on the backs of his hands.
"Thrusters, check. Environment, check. Ammo reserves, check."
The airlock opened and Potent-Nine exploded out of the hatchway, and into the unnerving void of space, intermittently speckled with faraway stars. "O'Dair entering vector 178 in 3.. 2... 1.."
Mal blasted out into a section of space on the edges of an asteroid belt, the targeting sensors locking onto 7 Legionnaire Exes immediately. "Fuck! PotentNine in attack series alpha immediately. " The nerve interfaces sent the signals to his brain, allowing his eyes to make use of the advanced optical units in the suit, every move he made within the suit, Potent-Nine mimicked flawlessly, and with a very small perceptible .008ms lag time. Article-Rose is faster, this feels slow, but it'll do.
The left Mag-74 unleashed hell as the suit flew threw the void, the wing thrusters leaving a trail as the fires and vapors burned out in the cold of space. The targeting protocols kicked in and trashed two of the enemy units within seconds, they hadn't even reacted yet.
"Wait, something's wrong... Everybody hold back " the comm channel erupted in a flurry of screams cut short as Mal knew what was happening. Mal left the bay first, everyone else waited behind.
"FUCK." He screamed into the comms over and over again, his voice drowning out the explosions and death cries of the other four pilots. The words faded out as he knew he was the only Ex left in the void.
The Princess!
The suit discharged most of it's core energy, as it phased out and reappeared inside the bay. Bolts exploded out from the breast as the release hatch fell open. Mal climbed out of the Ex and met Johnson on the ground, "Find the princess and get her to an escape boat!"
Feet pounding across the metal grating, he rushed to the tech bay, ArticleRose stood in the center, the coreshaft on her back wide open as the techs rushed to get her core back in place. Pulsating red, it swung suspended hooked to a lift 30 feet above the Ex, "Hurry the fuck up!" he screamed at the techs. "Hook up her secondary transport bay while you're at it!" Malcoulm rushed around the bay helping the techs as much as he could, the ship being bombarded by missiles, throwing everyone around frantically.
Several long, grueling minutes later, Johnson called over his comms, "All of the escape boats are destroyed sir! What do I do?"
Fuck!
"Bring her to tech bay 12!"
ArticleRose stood in the bay, core in place, and secondary transport pod being attached. "Enviro seal that fucking thing!" The techs all shouted and started running around gathering the seals and hoses needed to seal the transport pod. One of the techs ran up to him, "how many days of enviro do you need?"
"As many as you can fucking put in there!"
A large explosion racked the ship and threw Malcoulm and the tech to the ground, just as Johnson and Princess LynnAstaria Regal stumbled through the doorway. "Sir!" Johnson yelled across the noise, "what now?!"
Jumping to his feet, he pointed to the transport pod, "Get her strapped in there, I'm taking her to the closest Capitol planet." Turning to the techs, "I'm going to need an extra core, doesn't matter how much power it has, just get it into her secondary core shaft."
I'm going to need all the power I can get to pull this off.
LynnAstaria made some protests about being shoved into the transport pod, she quickly gave up when it dawned on her that it was her only option. Eyes filled with fear, she pulled the hatch on the pod and latched it from the inside while Johnson latched it on the exterior. Malcoulm was checking the power levels on ArticleRose, and uploading the galactic maps into her databanks.