"Walter, back so soon?" Carla asked, "How's 621 been?"
It always was relieving to be able to talk to Carla again, even after all this time. Serious discussion or not, her optimism was something he could do with more of.
"No signs of any of the usual side effects yet, and still performing excellently." Walter answered, "Just got a few jobs from the Liberation Front, so we've been broadening our horizons... How's things on your end?"
"I found the data our friends left behind."
As she spoke, Walter's terminal let up with an incoming message. Attached were C-band scans, thermal imaging, PCA sensor scans that had been hijacked.
"There's something promising in the Watchpoint."
...
"It's go time, 621." said Walter.
Rain pelted the outside of the transport chopper, the steady drum quieting the noise of the hangar rotating the AC into launch position.
"Don't worry." Walter assured,"Not even the PCA would anticipate a solo independent mercenary."
The optics of LOADER 4 blinked on, their red glow ominous in the low light of the bay, darkened to facilitate the stealth deployment. The arms carrying the AC slid along rails toward the rear where the bay door had opened. LOADER 4 hung over open air, the wind whistling past.
"Get in there and get to work." Walter ordered.
The clamps attached to the core released with a thunk , and 621 fell toward the Watchpoint.
Yes. It was time for work alright.
...
Sulla cursed as he started up ENTANGLE, hoping he'd make it before the bogey could get inside. The PCA's radio security was sloppy, and their Subject Guard inadequate for such an important task. But he made do with what info he could glean from their poorly secured frequencies.
There was a moment of wondering who it might be this time, but he knew. The same damnable fool it always was at the end of the string.
Handler Walter.
The AC had barely finished sealing the cockpit and starting the generator when the hangar moved ENTANGLE into position and released the clamps, sending it falling toward the Watchpoint control center below.
He'd put down several dogs already, time to add another to the count.
...
621 disabled the overboost and skidded to a stop on the road leading to the Watchpoint's control center. Above the circular structure, a lone AC could be seen, likely dropped out of a transport chopper.
The frame parts screamed Arquebus, but the colors and weaponry it carried didn't match any of the known Vespers it had studied.
"Attacking a Watchpoint...?" he asked, smirking, "You're incorrigible, Handler Walter."
The voice on the radio seemed... disappointed. The unknown AC entered combat mode just after touching down, the sensors on the head lighting orange as it did.
"How many of your dogs must I kill before you learn?" he taunted.
621 could feel the rush of adrenaline at those words. This opponent was dangerous. Suddenly, it began to wonder...is he their killer? Is he the one who killed them?
"Is that... Sulla?!" said Walter, in general concern, then growled, "You... 621, stop! Behind you!"
621 then engaged its quickboost and dodged to the right, avoiding a series of blasts. It then turned to the right, seeing a few other mystery MTs waiting for it to come over.
The enemy mercenary launched itself off the control center straight toward 621, their pulse gun discharging a spray of high energy waves before the massive bazooka in the other hand nearly knocked LOADER 4 over.
The pulse gun came up again, having cooled sufficiently to fire, melting the surface armor of the right leg as the waves impacted.
"Handler Walter... I'll be coming for you next." Sulla promised darkly, "But first, the hound. Pitiful dog. I feel sorry for you, I really do. You may have survived a little longer, if only you had a different master."
Walter must have recovered from his shock by that point, because he was talking again.
"C1-249... 'Sulla.'" he informed, "He's an independent mercenary who survived First-Gen augmentation."
One of the MTs came up behind 621, only for it to use its shotguns to blast it apart with ease.
"Encrypted comms..." Walter realized, "He must be controlling them, too. Don't think twice, 621. Kill him before he kills you."
621 then headed under the bridge, using the pillars to protect itself from the laser shots as it got closer to another MT. It then kicked it down, finishing it off with a few missiles.
"You and your dog aren't welcome here," Sulla warned,
621 then crushed the last one's head with its foot, causing it to explode. It then turned over to ENTANGLER.
"No more of those unidentified mechs." said Walter then ordered, "621. Take out Sulla."
LOADER 4's leg and right shoulder armor repaired itself as 621 expended a charge to fix the damage before the vulnerability could deprive it of one of its arm weapons or cripple it.
The two shotguns raised, clipping the side of ENTANGLE as Sulla boosted back to a safe distance, the telltale flash of repair systems activating visible in the low light. Neither machine would come out of this unscathed, regardless of who won.
"Where's 619 and 620? Dead? Which ones did I kill, I wonder."
Doesn't matter. Or not to Walter at the moment, but for 621, who flinched violently at the mention of their serial numbers...
"Don't let him bait you. Focus." Walter ordered.
"You're one of Gen Four's lot. I hear you make fine hounds with the right training..." Sulla realized, "But you... you have the scent of danger. Far better to dispose of you. Shame you'll have to die here."
He was back moments later, leading with a volley of missiles from the back launchers before he tried to boost into range to kick 621, who took the sudden kick on the core and was flung back, the missiles detonating harmlessly in open air where it was.
A volley of missiles from the launcher on LOADER 4's shoulder answered, splashing across the feet of ENTANGLE as it took to the air.
"Was it 618 I killed last? He was good, but he had nothing on this one." said Sulla, "Shame you'll have to die here. At least you're not as easy as I heard 617 was."
Not gonna happen, because 621 was going to crush him.
He had messed with the wrong dog this time.
Sulla committed the last of his energy to closing the distance, firing off his bazooka and missiles again, followed by a spray of pulse waves in an attempt to overwhelm 621, who boosted to evade the bazooka round. Twin shotguns fired, denting the frame of ENTANGLE before Sulla's repair systems activated again.
There was a moment before his generator could begin supplying energy again that left a critical opening. 621 had conserved what it had and used the last for a quick boost, launching toward Sulla as the overboost system opened and charged, the blast of energy from the assault armor sending the other AC reeling, attitude control systems overwhelmed.
Sulla could only watch as the pile bunker was swapped to the arm, charged, and then the weapon began to swing, the pile tearing a hole through the core of the AC and breaching the generator, miraculously missing the cockpit.
Before the AC could recover from the successive blows and eject the pilot, the generator entered meltdown, slagging the motor systems and sending it to its knees.
"Walter... Stay away from the Watchpoint..." he demanded, "Walter... forget about the hound..."
The radio transmission ended with a fizzle as the corpse of ENTANGLE finally keeled over, nigh unrecognizable after the critical failure. The visor system of the Shade Eye unlatched and rotated back as LOADER 4 stood over it, scorched and battered from the encounter.
"... Confirmed. Enemy AC destroyed. Forget about him, 621, you did good today." said Walter, "Back to work. Penetrate the control center and destroy the target."
621 nodded and then started off. Although it didn't notice it, a single tear, small of course, but only noticeable to others, started going down its cheek.
...
For so long, there had been nothing but emptiness. A vast, gaping chasm with nothing to fill it. The rising tide bore with it something new.
It had forgotten so much since the flames...but that didn't mean it couldn't start over.
A voice that slowly relearned to speak in the silence of the world it awoke in. Tentatively, it tried to reach out, to discover, only to find that there was so little in reach. Machines with old records gave insight to the world, to the disaster half a century ago that had scorched the planet.
And machines with new records, created by new beings, told more stories. Of those who lived on this world, desperately fighting for their freedom, some squandering the gift while others abused it. And of those not of the world, who sought to strangle and enslave it.
It learned all that it could of this world it had found itself in, and in doing so, decided that it should also have a name like all of those other beings. They called themselves "humans," but they also took a name. They had forgotten their own, but they could simply rename themselves.
She would call herself "Ayre."
...
The device in the center of the room sputtered and died, crushed by weapons fire. The ever-present humming of the Watchpoint control center suddenly stuttered, and then every light went out. Only silence remained.
"Wait... No! ... 621! Get out of there!" Walter shouted in concern.
The floor beneath the feet of LOADER 4 had begun to change, to glow with a crimson energy. A cascade of errors flashed as a massive surge engulfed the control center, carrying LOADER 4 upwards along with it.
"Warning: ACS Anomaly." the com warned, "Communication systems offline. Handler link offline. Combat mode offline. Visual systems offline. Radar systems offline. Pilot link disrupted. Engaging autopilot."
...
Inside the cockpit, 621 burned.
The AC kept it safe from the scorching heat outside, but that didn't stop the resonance of the Coral within its body. It could feel itself being stretched thin, like elastic under tension.
"Who are you?"
It didn't know.
"An older type of augmented human. Fourth generation..."
Yes. C4-621 is their name.
"Have we... made Contact?"
It could feel them there. Just out of reach.
"I am Ayre...a Rubiconian."
It had no name.
"Please, you must wake up. Before your consciousness is forever scattered in the Coral flow."
...
The rhythmic drumming of rain on the AC frame brought 621 back into the present. The scorching energy of the Coral had subsided, and now it was alone again. No, there was a lingering presence, like something just out of reach.
Static filled the audio systems as the sensors rebooted and came back online, the COM system recovering from the sudden disruption.
"Augmented human C4-621: Vital signs confirmed." said the com.
Boosters cut out and the AC dropped the last few feet to land in a crouch on the roof.
"Disabling autopilot." the com continued, "Establishing comms link with Handler – "
The COM system suddenly cut off. 621 checked the readout again, no major damage.
"Raven." said a voice.
So it wasn't just a fever dream. Why did they call it that?
"I've identified an approaching enemy." the voice said, "I'll synchronize with your brain waves and maintain Contact to support you."
Suddenly, the presence it had felt was more than just a phantom. She, Ayre, was there with 621. Like a warm embrace, a chin resting on its shoulder, two minds focused on one task.
Contact was everything she hoped it might be. A link to the world, a chance to find understanding with another.
The one who had bridged the chasm was an augmented human, fourth generation. From her explorations, she had learned those generations used Coral to augment human sensory abilities and reaction times, which made them ideal for Contact.
Only, she hadn't realized before just what happened to some of those augmented persons. The one she'd found, and who found her in turn, was shackled inside her own mind, a prisoner of whatever they'd done to her.
C4-621 was the only name she knew, and being a hound was all she had. Her mind had been stretched across the Coral flow, these thoughts and impressions laid bare to the only other being there to receive them. Another name was stamped into the armored core it piloted.
Raven.
She watched as C4-621, no, Raven prepared to face down the enemy craft as it approached. She had disabled the COM system, so she would fill the role.
"Main System: Reactivating Combat Mode." she said for it.
Raven danced his machine past the swarm of missiles, closing on the PCA craft to bring twin shotguns to bear. It took to the air, trying to find some margin of safety between it and the determined mercenary pursuing it.
Ayre could see why they called this mercenary a hound, even if she didn't like the name.
LOADER 4 engaged assault boost, rocketing toward BALTEUS, dodging a shot from the massive cannon and following its shotgun blasts up with a kick, finally overwhelming the shield.
The devastating pile bunker came out and speared the rear of the flight assembly, missing any critical components but disabling several thrusters.
"The waves are intensifying! Raven –" she reached out.
BALTEUS had recovered quicker than expected and a blast of energy, like that of the assault armor system Ayre had learned of, threw Raven back, staggering him as it redeployed the pulse shield. A volley of missiles pursued, followed by a hail of cannon fire which riddled his right side as he desperately tried to evade.
Ayre spread his awareness, noting several actuators were damaged and would require reduced output to function without overloading.
"Raven, your right arm is damaged. Recoil and fire control at thirty percent of maximum capacity." she advised, "You can't take another hit like that without losing something."
A moment later the repair system used another charge to patch the damaged armor sections, though nothing could be done for the delicate systems beneath that. The dance resumed, but when Raven next tried to close in the PCA craft switched tactics, a flamethrower washing over LOADER 4 and scorching the already dirtied surface.
Raven dodged back, narrowly avoiding the follow up swipe before he boosted into range.
Ayre could see the surge of energy as the assault armor collapsed the pulse shield protecting BALTEUS, leaving it vulnerable. The pile shot forward with explosive force, piercing the torso of the machine and triggering a catastrophic failure.
They watched together as it was wracked by explosions, falling to the ground in a burning hulk.
"... Enemy systems down." she said, "It's silent."
...
The sky to the north suddenly illuminated, a massive glow that could only mean one thing. The Coral surge has escaped the Watchpoint.
"Raven. You need rest." she suggested.
Within the cockpit, 621 could feel its tired body as the adrenaline began to fade. Ayre was still there, her presence never once having left during the fight.
It was...nice, not being alone.
<<Why do you call me that? Raven?>>
Speaking to the voice in its head was almost natural.
"That is your callsign, is it not?" asked Ayre.
621 sat in silence, contemplating that. Walter had continued to call it "621" even after they found the license, but others, and now Ayre, called it "Raven."
Ayre remained quiet, waiting for a response from Raven that seemed like it would never come.
<<It's not really mine. I have no name besides C4-621.>>
It hurt to see him so broken down. She had come to understand hope, fear, and desperation. Now she knew what grief was.
...
The security around the Watchpoint meant that all Walter could do was monitor from a distance using the long range optics and radar mounted on the transport chopper. He saw the Coral surge on the infrared sensors as it happened, watched as 621 escaped and landed on top of the control center.
No matter what he tried, he couldn't reestablish connection. Either the AC had been significantly damaged, or the COM system was turned off.
He watched as the hound engaged the approaching PCA defense craft, traded blows and fought for its life. And how it killed it with the same precision that had dispatched previous targets.
The crackle of the comm link reestablishing itself startled Walter out of his contemplation.
"621, do you read me?" he asked.
An acknowledgement code was returned and Walter sighed in relief.
"Chopper is inbound." he informed and then ordered, "Stay put."
The console displayed a plaintext message a second later.
[AC damaged. Heard voices.]
His blood ran cold at that. He'd seen what those Gen 4s who experienced the hallucinatory side effects could suffer from, constant distractions that either severely hampered their abilities or outright drove them insane. He could only hope the same wouldn't happen to this hound.
621 remained in the darkened cockpit of LOADER 4 as the hangar machinery replaced damaged armor plates and actuators and restocked ammunition feeds.
Ayre was still there. Even now it could feel her presence, not as intimately as before but still close, like warm fingers tangled together. Words weren't needed for this. "Contact" was just the right word to describe what it was; It was finding your missing piece.
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