by Mars Dorian
"You can count them with half a hand."
"Exactly."
D12 rolled his tongue.
“Deep inside she’s a caring unit with lots of passion for piloting and her peers."
“Right. And I’m an Amazium harvester from Fortuna.”
D12 cracked up.
“Seriously, you should talk to Arrow and reframe your mind. All this aggression between you guys is pathetic. Maybe there’s something lurking behind the tension. Something you’re afraid to admit?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You figure it out.”
“Yeah, but not today.”
“So, did you get a hold of the mission master?”
“Yep,” RX said as he sweat ounces from the muscle builder.
“He said he was going to look for a special operation with serious ranking and monetary rewards. He also said he was personally going to evaluate my data to ensure correctness.”
D12 gave him an approving nod.
“Wow, how many times did you have to suck his dick for that?”
“I stopped counting after the fifth blow.”
They both cracked up.
Clapping reverberated from behind.
The two male units turned around and saw Arrow applauding melodrama style. She pranced along the gym machines as if they were built to make her walk look cool.
“Why is it that every time boys hang out, conversation always drops to dick levels?”
RX stopped his workout and wiped the warm sweat from his face.
“Is that a rhetorical question?”
She ignored him and watched D12 with a judging glance.
“Legend has it you’re blaming me for your crappy ranking. To get even more pathetic, you claim that I’m sending goons to beat you up?”
Gossip traveled FTL on the carrier.
“Well, did you?”
Arrow narrowed her eyes.
“RX, if I want to ruin you, I’ll score high on the missions and make you look bad by comparison. Like I always do.”
Oh, the anger boiled up again.
But her taunt attacks were in vain.
RX stood his ground.
Arrow knew his pride, and vice versa.
Predators scooped alike.
RX played the game.
“You’re pretty decent for an APEX pilot, I give you that. But sooner than later, the higher-ups will look through your glitzy smoke & mirrors shtick and realize what you really are.”
D12 nudged him with the elbow.
The sign to stop ASAP.
Bu RX didn’t.
He was just warming up.
Arrow licked her lips and perked her ears.
“Oh, please, RX, enlighten me. Tell me who I really am.”
D12’s eyes said: don’t do it.
The cue for RX to do just that.
“You’re treated like a star because of your looks. You have a way with words and make the men in central command spin their drooling heads after you. You’re style over substance, and you know it.”
Sha-bam.
D12 looked like he experienced a heart attack.
RX felt two mega tons of relief.
Arrow grinned, but her face turned stiff.
“And you, RX, are a pathetic little worm that blames ambitious go-getters like me for their lack of success. Maybe instead of pointing fingers, you should check out that fugly mirror image of yours and start working on your ranking.”
D12 chimed in.
“That’s it, you two. This is a gym, not a duel match.”
RX and Arrow backed off, but the eye contact burned on.
“You sent those four goons after me, and I’m going to prove it.”
Arrow wiped her eyes and pretended to cry.
“I swear, I can take a bath in your tears.”
“One day you’ll see how good I really am.”
“I’m afraid I’ll be waiting forever.”
RX walked away and left the two standing. At the gate frame, he heard Arrow’s voice cutting the air.
“RX, if the pilot career doesn’t work out for you, maybe you can switch to being a professional victim. I’ve heard there’s lots of money to be made in that line of work.”
The men in the gym chuckled.
So what.
It was a temporary retreat to regroup his force.
RX had lost the verbal duel anyways. Arrow knew how to use words at the right time, a skill he neglected so far, like most pilots. RX rode back to his quarters and crawled into bed, pondering the state of his failing life.
“Aida, are you there?”
Of course she was.
Always.
Everywhere.
The almighty.
AI.
“How can I help you?”
“Judging from my psychological profile, how would you assess me?”
She went straight into analysis.
“Positive: focussed, ambitious and knowledgeable of the APEX pilot class. Excellent reflexes and mental stability during active duty.”
She paused.
“Negative: RX-88 has the tendency to hesitate under pressure and exhibits decent-to-poor morals during passive duty.”
“Decent-to-poor morals during passive duty?”
“I’m just evaluating the data based on your behavior.”
Jeez, now even his AI derided him. Before he could elaborate on his psychological profile, his inbox rang with an encrypted priority message from the mission master. RX raised his head and opened the intel. Aida decoded the ciphers and auto-read the text.
“Operation: //FlyingFortress//
To: unit RX-88
Since you asked for ways to boost your ranking, I’ve found a mission that should suit your needs. The US Corps has another priority commission for us. Summary: provide escort to a USC squadron and launch attack on a Separatist space station orbiting ExoEve II. Exact coordinates and launch gate number will be revealed 60 mins prior to mission start. The US Corps is looking for an APEX guard to secure their dropship and aid their interceptor squadron. Mission will begin in +22 hours: 09 minutes: 31 seconds (Stryker Central Time).
//End of message//
The mission master added the most important parts for RX.
100K for mission success.
Up to ten levels in possible ranking gain.
RX whistled through his teeth. That was a sum to smile at. And although he felt like laying down to rest from his injuries, he jumped back up and confirmed his participation.
This was THE opportunity to show his unit worth. Everyone, including the investors and the corporate commander of Stryker, would soon realize why RX was the best APEX pilot around, and not that bio-engineered babe with the attitude issues. RX hasted toward the sim chambers and picked the escort training mission.
He was soon going to blow everyone away.
16
Mission start: +00 hours: 45 mins: 28 seconds
RX shot into the hangar with enough power to bring down a Separatist fleet single-handedly. He hadn’t felt this kind of energy since his rise from the cryo-sleep. He bypassed the personnel that finished his APEX’s maintenance. RX stroked the dame and smiled at her wings.
“You and me are going to go on another date today.”
The AI sounded from the APEX.
“Another ride to the stars? RX, you really know how to push my buttons.”
Oh, Aida.
You’re the best, RX thought.
In the far distance, he noticed D12 standing next to a couple of crates. RX waved him over.
“Whenever I look around, you’re a few steps away. I should put a restraining order on you.”
D12 chuckled.
“What can I say, I’m obsessed with you, bro.”
“It should be the other way around, considering your high ranking.”
“You get there, maybe even within the next hours. How’s the mission doing?”
“About to meet my team members
. We’re going near ExoEve II. Some escort to a Separatist space station floating around.”
“As long as the pay is good and the scoring opportunities are high.”
“Heaps. Today will change everything.”
“Right on.”
D12 looked over his shoulder as if to detect eavesdroppers.
“Not to worry you, but I have seen Arrow having a little head-to-head conversation with our beloved mission master.”
“What did they talk about?”
“Well, let me hack into the security cam servers and check the recording.”
RX rolled his eyes.
“Funny. So you have no ideas?”
“They were probably scheming your downfall.”
RX grinned.
“Now seriously, do you think they talked about me?”
“Heck I know. You do realize she’s popular with high management and even central command?”
“Jeez, I wonder why.”
“Doesn’t matter, I should have never brought it up. You need to worry about your performance and show Stryker that you’re one of the best pilots around. Forget about all that peer pressure, it doesn’t belong in the cockpit.”
“I will. I can feel the excitement bursting through my veins.”
They shook hands.
“Thanks for keeping up with me, D12. I know I sometimes annoy the crap out of you.”
“Only sometimes?”
“Get out.”
He waved his buddy goodbye and felt a strange loss. As if an invisible hand ripped a piece of flesh from his torso. RX turned around and saw D12 leaving the hangar. The giant already seemed so far away.
A bummer he wouldn’t fly with him today.
RX approached the D gate in the hangar and introduced himself to his team members for the mission. He saw a commando troop marching into the rear of the dropship and realized this operation wasn’t as harmless as suggested. The squad leader, a Stryker veteran nicknamed ’The Birge’, repeated the same mission objectives until the last imbecile nodded in fatigue.
“Good luck everyone. You follow protocol and we all return here with a nice paycheck.”
“Yes sir,” the pilots shouted in unison.
RX realized he was the only APEX pilot. The others winged Interceptors, the squad leader a Missile Interceptor variant. He recognized a heavy load-out with long and short-range rockets. Squad leader Birge whistled and told everyone to man their spacecraft. RX climbed into his APEX and synched himself to the craft. After he finished the pre-flight checklist, Aida showed him the suggested weapons layout. A good mix between directed-energy and kinetic impactors, as well as autonomous surveillance drones to increase coverage in space. On top of that, RX snatched his anti-personnel armament: a standard issue MP7 and a Stryker Combat Rifle with eight fifty round mags that worked in zero gee and a couple of Anti-Organic grenades that only damaged biological tissue. A must-have when avoiding hull damage in space.
“Why do you equip anti-personnel arms?”
“Have you seen the commando of the dropship? Looks like they’re going to board the space station. I just want to make sure I have my own anti-personnel gear in case I have to join them.”
Aida ‘mmm’ over the channel.
“You’re booked as an APEX pilot providing flank support. I doubt they’re going to make you board the station. With your lack of CQC expertise, you would only hinder the mission.”
“Thanks for the prep talk, Aida. But in case your memory became dusty, you’re the one who taught me to always prepare for the worst case scenario.”
“You actually remembered, RX. That makes my circuit patterns sing.”
RX smiled. The longer he conversed with Aida, the more she developed her unique sense of humor. It was almost like speaking to a real human.
Almost.
Squad leader Birge spoke through the team comm channel.
“Let’s get rolling boys. I’ve updated the launching order.”
RX was second.
Soon, first.
17
“Stay sharp,” the squad leader said.
RX stayed sharp for the past hours. He left his APEX on auto-pilot and moaned through the transparmor of his cockpit. All units remained in formation around the dropship that blitzed toward its destination.
“RV point in T-minus 38 minutes.”
RX slapped his cheeks.
A long flight with little to no action, but he couldn’t slack off.
A minor deviation from the SOP would cost him points.
RX realized he shouldn’t have ditched the 9volt intake, but then again, he wanted to train his natural instincts. All the substance abuse messed up his organic predator senses.
He needed to go back to the roots.
Become a true warrior again.
Interference fizzled.
“How are you doing over there, RX-88?”
“Ready for action, sir.”
“Hold your hull and stay easy on the trigger. And remember, taking down the comms relay is our first goal. We want to isolate the station.”
“Don’t worry, sir.”
RX’s senses sharpened. His scanners picked up the space station thousands of kilometers away. A 3D representation appeared on his HUD. Looked like a giant, mechanized funnel with rings.
“Aida, get the rocket port systems ready.”
“Roger that.”
Distance to target: 6.793 km.
RX flipped through his weapons layout and choose the V8 Titan Breakers.
They were slow-moving missiles, required no time to lock on and caused massive damage to slow or stationary targets.
Also known as the space station slayer.
“Weapons ready,” RX said.
Squad leader Birge sounded.
“Fire at will.”
RX launched the missile. It lunged forward in steady bursts. Aida updated the time of ‘arrival’: impact in T-minus fifty-five seconds.
RX counted down.
Five, four, three, two, one.
Boom.
“Direct hit,” Aida said.
“Sir, I’m going in.”
“Roger,” Birge said, “focus on the FLAK turrets first so our dropship can dock.”
“Yes, sir.”
RX boosted forward. About thousand kilometers closer, he could target the little turrets strategically placed around the station. He fired off smaller missiles with excellent track capabilities and took them out in no time.
“The station is alert,” Aida said.
“About time.”
The turrets turned their barrels and shot kinetic impactor shells at his direction. Dangerous to slow-moving freighters and dropships, but no match for his agile APEX. RX chose an evasive flight trajectory, circumnavigated the station and pulverized the last turrets with his own mass driver. Fragments of the sentries burst into space, but RX made sure he didn’t damage the main hull. The commando still needed to board.
“Sir, all defensive systems are taken down. The dropship can dock.”
“Roger that, good work. I’m beginning to understand the hype around APEX pilots.”
Hype? RX was all skill, no myth-talking needed. He watched the dropship dock on the space station bay. Pictured the commando team storming through the station’s corridors and blasting down the Separatists. He circulated around the station and scanned its surface, ready to blast any fighter leaving the other docks.
But they didn’t.
Instead, eery silence lingered.
RX’s pulse went bonkers.
“I wish I could see what was going on.”
“Your mission is to guard the dropship and eliminate any threat.”
“I know, I’m just saying.”
He probably had enough fire power to blast the station into oblivion himself, but then again, he didn’t know the commando’s objectives. Because lovely central command wouldn’t spill secrets.
Still, RX didn’t complain.
The mission went smo
oth, he was going to rank high and fly home like a winner. The way it was supposed to be.
“Do you read me, RX-88?” the squad leader said over the intercom.
“Yes, sir.”
“We have an emergency situation that requires our immediate assistance. Continue your mission. As soon as the commando returns to the dropship, provide escort back to the carrier, just as planned in the briefing.”
“Sir?”
“Good luck.”
“Yes, sir.”
He watched the target pointers of the squad leader and his interceptor squadron moving out of range. They were leaving in the middle of the battle.
RX chuckled but made sure the intercom was muted.
“What’s wrong with them?”
Aida replied.
“He trusts that you alone can guard the dropship. That must mean something to you.”
“Maybe,” RX said.
But he didn’t like it. What kind of emergency call would warrant an immediate leave of the squad leader and his Interceptors?
RX shifted attention back to his mission.
“Are you picking up any unusual activity?”
“Negative.”
He watched the dropship avatar on his HUD. It clung to the station’s dock like an old zit forgotten by time.
Why did the commando take so long? The station wasn’t that big from the outside. RX continued circumnavigating the station when the sensors beeped.
“What is it?”
“I’m detecting an exponential increase of energy within the station.”
“What?”
Boom.
Well, not boom, since there were no sound or explosions in space. Instead, the station ripped apart from the inside like an oversized piñata filled with shrapnel. The shreds shot into all directions. Every piece of debris was as dangerous as a kinetic impactor shell. Thousands of shards launched at RX’s position. He upped the main thruster and used an ecliptic route near ExoEve’s orbit to gain fast trajectory.
But it was too late.
A dozen pieces ripped through his main thruster like laser daggers.
Aida depicted the 3D miniature model of the craft and showed the damage report. The glowing red of the screen flushed RX’s helmet as his eyes widened. He angled the APEX to avoid the main trajectories of the incoming shreds and remained calm. A radius of at least fifty kilometers around the former space station turned into a minefield of accelerating debris. Before the main thrusters refused service, RX managed to navigate his APEX out of the danger zone.
