Mission 2 - The Cut-Scene - Part 2

  Having descended a few floors by elevator, the party made its way into a showroom of sorts - far too clean to be a hangar bay, in Moncha's opinion, even if its portions were similar.

  At his side, his two wingmen gasped in awe at the site, and even Moncha had to admit to being rather impressed. Four Casnels filled the tall room, each gleaming white, wielding slightly different weapons and other minor customisations. Their heads looked a bit like an upside-down fighter jet’s nose, which made Moncha smile nostalgically.

  "What's their theme," Moncha asked.

  The ginger salesman gave him a funny look, "Theme? Oh right, the stolen Vanadís models were themed after a knight, yes?" he chuckled derisively, "We don't do that here. If they have one, their 'theme' is human innovation, with some homages to the First Cansel and other fighters from the prior war.

  Moncha felt a little put out by this condescending remark. Meanwhile, his comrades had picked up on something different between these and other Casnels, "They’re short," Gemon said.

  "Ah, good eye, very good eye! Yes, these units stand slightly under eighteen metres, without any loss of function."

  "Does that affect survivability?" Yazan added. Moncha smiled; his two pilots weren't much for conversation, but they always seemed to have something to say regarding matters of life and death.

  "Oh, ah, yes, of course. The main innovation, one even Vanadís has yet to match, is minimising the size of the Hindenburg reactor; this with the new Gen-3 frame we designed, allows a smaller profile while maintaining the same amount of proportional armour."

  An aide in a lab coat came around and handed them each a tablet. Moncha and his pilots immediately began checking all the machine’s specs. As though having left ‘the children’ with a colouring book, the salesman turned his full attention to Captain Synapse; "Per the order form, three of the mechs have received specific customisation. The AMX-Long rifle, the RBX-Arc-Spear and using the documents provided, a longsword Calabar Mk2 blade, to name the most notable ones," he said, with a little distaste for having been asked to make another company’s product with that last item.

  "Unit 001, remains in its base configuration. All units have the left arm mounted, short-range 'rapid-rifle' cannons and the same internal designs, except unit 004, which has a secondary power cell on its back to accommodate its hyper-long range rifle."

  The captain nodded, "Everything looks alright, lads?"

  "Aye, Sir," the two ensigns replied crisply, and Moncha nodded.

  "Then if you could just sign here, Head-Captain. Oh, I can show you to the recruit we have been keeping for you too."

  "Just a moment," Synapse added softly, a friendly hand on the salesman's eager shoulder, "Let the lads have a more physical look, just to put their minds at ease. While they do that, Moncha would you mind going ahead to meet your new subordinate?"

  Moncha saluted, "Fine by me, these two know what to look for," he said with a grin.

  "Right this way, sir," the labcoat-donned aide beckoned, and Moncha quickly followed him out the room - leaving Yazan and Gemon to crawl around and check the cockpits of the four machines like kids at a playground, much to the salesman's dismay.

  "In here, sir," the aide said at the end of a long corridor. Moncha offered his thanks and opened the door. The small waiting room had a simple handful of plastic chairs and some company posters lining the walls.

  Moncha looked around as the door clicked shut behind him, making eye contact with the sole occupant.

  He paused a moment.

  "YOU!"

  "What, eh, you’re him!?" the boy responded, just as surprised.

  ****

  The main workshop, come Vijiak storage bay of Remembrance Headquarters, was a massive space: Normally filled with crates, machinery and dozens of mechs, today staff had completely emptied it. Now, it was filled to the brim with members of the organisation. They stood in rows the entire length of the cold, cavernous space, all here for one thing: To hear him speak.

  Scarlet and Sesha went ahead of Kigen onto the stage erected at the front of this monumental crowd. They took their places next to an aristocratic-looking blond man and a stout, barrel-chested black man - The third and fourth-ranked aces, respectively.

  Kigen slowly climbed the short steps, sweeping his view over the assembly, over faces aged with combat and young with revolutionary vigour. He took his place at a podium before the other four aces. It could be argued this was all a propaganda of sorts, and he would have been hard-pressed to disagree. A tournament of practise bouts had decided these rankings, with each pilot using the same class of machine with strict rules and judges - but how accurately that could gauge their real strength was questionable. Moreover, what could the five of them do alone?

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  Even with the Casnels, they were simply arrowheads. It was the people before him who mattered, the unsung legions, ready to lay down their lives at his command. His role as ‘leader’ was simply to organise the pilots and field command; their true Supreme Commander was surely Admiral Agitate, who’d no doubt give a much better speech after Kigen. Yet even so, it was him they were all looking to.

  ‘So be it,’ Kigen thought. If his fate was to lead these men into hell for the sake of a planet’s dream, then he would not shun it.

  “Brothers in arms, it is my most profound honour to stand before you as leader! For five long years, we have hidden with the shame of our defeat at the hands of The States Union and the death of our beloved King, with the pain of longing and the desire to strike back. Our restraint, our stalworth drive to rebuild, plan and be ready again is a credit to the calibre of man that believes in this dream!

  TSU has not changed. They learned nothing from the retribution our people leveled on them five years ago. Instead, they ready new weapons of war, defence platforms and fleets, and above all else, new, stronger Casnels, developed with the intent to no doubt be mass produced and used to crush the people underfoot! I stand here before you, and I say no!

  Join me, and we will put an end to their tyranny in the name of all those who have fallen before us. I will be our sword; I ask that you all join me in cutting down this evil!!”

  Slapping a hand to his chest hard enough to be heard over the microphone, Kigen saluted. His wolf tail swished behind him, his brow knitted, his face stoic, as he stood proud at the forefront of a couple thousand followers and began to below an epitaph; one written to honour the fallen and spur on those yet living - one every member of the crowd began to chant with him, the chorus soon so loud it could be heard all across the base - this was their starting gun, from here on out they would take it all back, of that he was sure:

  “To serve the people,

  Because we haven't forgotten those who died,

  To pave the way for their future,

  So that there might be any future at all,

  To leave the world better than we found it,

  To gain overdue revenge,

  To restore our honour,

  For Past Sins,

  For king and country,

  To live up to the fate placed in me,

  simply because I can fight, I fight,

  Remembrance will not forget."

  ****

  "It is, it's you! Albeit you're not covered in entrails anymore, but it's you!" Moncha shouted altogether too loudly.

  The boy winced at the mention of that day’s carnage but nonetheless stood to greet the man, "And you're the guy who saved me, I never did get to thank you. I'm Chas Collins, Junior Lieutenant grade as of today."

  Moncha blinked, turned on his heel and made to leave the room, "Must be a mistake."

  "Oh, come on, wait up!" Chas called.

  Moncha sighted and met the kid's gaze once more. He picked up a chair and flopped into it backwards, his large frame bending the seat’s back forwards, "Alright, interview time then. What the hell are you doing here?"

  Chas gradually sat back down, too. His young face was an earnest picture, a deep scar on his right cheek moving as he tried to smile, "I was brought in by the military after the attack. They asked me to come here and help test the new Casnels. I asked if I could join up for real after that."

  Moncha scowled, "Join up for real? Kid, what the hell would you know about joining up? I was told I'd be meeting a Casnel pilot today, not some simulation trooper who collapses in battle."

  The boy winced again, only ticking Moncha off more, "There are less qualified pilots than you'd think, and well, your Admiral is trying to keep these Casnels within his forces, which limits the number even more..."

  "So? ‘You claiming to be the only A-ranked pilot they could find?"

  "Ummm, yes? I mean, the records are public for pilot exams, right? I know I was only a test pilot, but I always kept up. In Grand Admiral Columbae’s forces, there are only a handful of A- and above-ranked pilots presently."

  Moncha blinked, "You can check that sorta stuff?" The boy nodded.

  Reddening ever so slightly, Moncha rallied, "Well, that's by the by, a welp like you is A-rank?"

  "I passed the test, both simulation and practise bout."

  "But never a single actual fight?"

  "Just that day we met two months ago..." Chas admitted. The boy was clenching his fists now, biting his lower lip. His mounting frustration was not something Moncha noticed; he was too busy trying to decide how to tell the Captain they’d need to apply for an extra pilot.

  The Commander messaged his temples; he'd rather have a B rank like his wingmen take the machine than some no-name kid with zero field experience. What was to stop this, this boy, from freezing up again the next time he witnessed death, but this time freezing up while in the cockpit of a machine worth a metric fortune?

  "Look, kid, this is the real shit--" Moncha began, only for a trembling Chas to finally interject;

  "I know that! Of course, I know that. I watched my boss and my best friend and everyone I'd ever worked with all die and get blown up! I understand you don't like me cause I'm a sudo-civilian, a worthless test pilot who doesn't know what combat is. Yes, I joined Vanadís because I like giant robots. Is that a fucking crime? I just thought they were cool alright, and I was good at testing them; really good, you got that?

  But I've seen it now and I don't want to run away. I saw what these machines are capable of, what I'm complicit in. The very machine I was in charge of testing, unit 001, is out there somewhere, about to be used to kill more innocent people. The machine I helped to make! And, and I just, I refuse to look away from that when the skills I have could be used to stop it, ok?!"

  Wordlessly, Moncha rose out of his chair and returned to the door. Chas hung his head, the burst of pent-up emotion leaving him. Arguing with an officer was hardly a good way to ensure his position he knew.

  Moncha lay his hand on the doorknob and turned back to Chas, "Well, you coming? Don't expect an invitation, I don't do baby shit."

  The boy's eyes lit up in disbelief. Moncha grinned, his bushy moustache curving up, "Not a bad argument, kid. It won’t be easy, but you’ve got spirit; I’ll give ya’ that. And for the record - I like giant robots, too."