"I fight and I fight, just to keep the spark alive, but if there's nothing on the other side...Why can't I leave well enough alone and go to the light." - Murder By Death, Go To The Light.

TITANFALL: DEAD MEN WALKING

CHAPTER 7: HOMECOMING

"Well?"

"Plan got greenlit."

"You don't seem thrilled about that."

"Boss wasn't in a particularly friendly mood, let's just put it at that."

"I'm guessing the batch from Alexandria hasn't been the most forthcoming with intel?"

"You could say that. Some lippy shits in the lot, too."

"Damn it. Hope you're right about this new plan then, or we're gonna be swimming in shit soon."

"Trust me, they'll be there. I've got something special in mind."

THE FRONTIER
MCS REDEYE
INTERVIEW ROOM
FRONTIER REPUBLIC MARAUDER CORPS
CAPTAIN CALEB ORION

Captain Orion made his way to the ship's interview room. What was originally intended to be used for detainees or hostile VIPs, had been made into a temporary shelter for the two civilians in the crew's care since their rescue on the colony.

Bish would often tell Caleb of the old days when entire families, regardless of the danger, would be on Militia 1st Fleet ships, joining the crew as they fled from IMC pursuit with no safe refuge to run to. Both Militia officers were pleased those days were behind them. With that in mind, both Caleb and Captain McKay weren't thrilled with having noncombatants aboard.

The Captain approached the steel doorway at the end of a long accessway, remembering it being much more rusted and dainty five years ago. Truly, the ship had undergone a complete overhaul, leaving the man to wonder if it really was the old Redeye considering much of the chassis had been updated to match that of the MacAllan Class ships that littered the 9th fleet. It hardly looked the same, inside or out. The Captain and much of the senior staff would assure him that at her core, the ship was the Redeye, but Caleb would refer to it more as a Franken-ship...an odd collection of parts.

Getting back on track, the man spotted a lone Militia rifleman standing stalwartly by the doorway, peering into the one way paned glass. He could safely assume that Wright positioned the soldier there for the civilian's protection, or to at least keep them from wandering too far. The young infantry soldier had his sleeves rolled, with forearms draped in bandaging just like the Captain.

The soldier glanced over his shoulder, seeing the MCOR Pilot approach. He spun on his heel to face the man, straightening his posture to greet the Captain.

"It's been all quiet, Sir." The man reported with a trained discipline. It was excessive, considering the lack of a current threat.

Caleb responded in the form of a nod and a light pat on the shoulder.

The soldier stood clear of the door, granting the Pilot access to the interview room. The Captain took hold of the airtight latch, lifting the bar and pushing the door inward. The door's seal gave a high pitched hiss as it swung open. Caleb stopped, inspecting the room prior to entry.

It was hardly expansive, or cozy. The steel walls had been covered by padding that was a feeble attempt to make the room a bit more inviting to the two civilians within as opposed to a steel box. A single cot had been moved into the corner with a selection of blankets for the inhabitants.

The adult survivor, the woman, looked up at the doorway as the Captain entered.

"Are you alright?" Caleb asked. "Do you have everything you need?"

The woman stared silently at the Captain, instantly recognizing him as the Militia pilot that had saved her and her child from the onslaught on Alexandria. With neither an objection or an answer to his questions voiced, Captain Orion stepped into the small room, taking a seat at the single table in the middle of the room, slouching back in the chair.

The two adults sat in silence, not entirely focused on the other. In the corner of the room, the woman's son sat slumped in another chair, completely passed out and draped in a Militia rifleman's jacket next to the bed. Caleb could just barely make out the name, reading it as "E. RAMIREZ". He lingered for a moment, somewhat befuddled at the sight. He hadn't thought about it planetside due to the adrenaline and his typical mission-oriented thinking, but now that he saw the kid, it was an odd thing to see on a warship.

He foolishly hoped that the boy didn't see much of the massacre in the settlement. He hardly wanted to think about how such a horrifying experience would alter the child's mind. It was a fair assumption to say many of the boy's friends were murdered if Caleb's experience on the colony was anything to go by.

The Captain would never get used to seeing dead children. Caleb twitched a bit at the thought while his hands fidgeted.

Caleb glanced over his shoulder, peering at the opaque side of the one-way mirror, figuring the jacket covering the child belonged to the soldier standing guard outside.

He turned his attention back to the woman, who now stared at him impatiently.

"Rosa, was it?" He asked.

"Rosaline and I've already answered all of the questions your partner, Wright, asked. Are you going to rescue my husband or the other colonists they took?" The woman spoke, understandably impatient and frustrated.

"I'm planning on it, yeah."

The woman noticed something different about this Militia soldier. No notebooks, no pens, no recording devices, no absolute bombardment of questions. He lacked the attempted professionalism of the others. He hadn't even formally introduced himself yet. He just sat there, leaning back in his chair while observing her and her child.

She cocked a brow as the Captain rested his elbows on the table prior to speaking again.

"We're following them as we speak with a tracker. But I'm gonna be honest I'm not keen on having you and your boy here on this ship when we're charging after these guys."

"Where else are we supposed to go? You saw what they did to our home."

"I can have you sent to Harmony once we make a jump to a friendly system. With an escort." Caleb wasn't sure if he was making empty promises, but then again, no one usually told him no.

"We'll be fine for the time being..." Rosa seemed apprehensive about her answer.

Caleb offered a defeated shrug with an irritated sigh.

"You know, this ship tends to get shot up quite a bit. We're bullet magnets out here."

"I just can't wait while my husband is out there! What am I supposed to do? Play house on Harmony while I have no idea what's happening?"

It dawned on Caleb that there was more at stake than just the investigation, more than just hunting the enemy down and getting even for the ass-kicking he got planetside...There were possible survivors that needed rescuing. Her apprehensive answer made more sense to the socially inept Pilot now. She was more than likely afraid to leave the Captain's protection, and certainly didn't want to leave while her husband and friends were still out there. Both were fair reactions, Caleb noted.

It didn't mean he was a fan of the idea. However, Caleb took advantage of the mention of her husband.

"What's his name?"

"What?" Rosaline recoiled, shocked by the abrupt change of topic.

"I said, what is his name?"

"...Zach Mercer, he's a Lieutenant. A pilot, like you." The woman fumbled into her pocket, withdrawing a photo with a shaky hand before placing it on the table and sliding it to the Captain. "He used to pilot Titans for cargo haul at the docks before joining up with the Militia..."

Caleb took hold of the creased photo and looked down. Taking the details in. The man was maybe a little bit younger than him, or at least looked that way. Blonde hair, light green eyes complimented by a wide smile worn in a family photo.

"Alright." Caleb said nonchalantly.

"Alright? Alright, what?"

"I'll do my best." Caleb gently handed the photo back to Rosaline before slouching back into his chair again.

"You'll find him?"

"Yeah, I will. I believe that the abductees are still alive. These bastards need them for a little manhunt, and we're gonna find out why. And then I'm going to get even."

While making a statement with such finality was not the wisest thing to say, the Captain felt confident in his capabilities and truly believed that he needed to succeed. At this point, failure wasn't an option.

Nonetheless, Rosaline's expression became much warmer than her previous apprehension. If Caleb were any wiser, he'd swear there was a trace of tears welling in her eyes. He prayed that he hadn't gotten her hopes up and that he could make good on the faith placed in him.

His eyes trailed over to the child still sleeping in the corner before looking back to Rosaline. In a brief moment, he thought of Allison again, wishing the two of them had gotten a chance at a real-life, should they have had the time and freedom. Orion exhaled and stopped himself from going any further down that line of thought by fleeing the situation.

"I'll let you get some rest. I'll keep you posted with any updates. Let the trooper on guard know if you need anything."

The Captain abruptly stood up, making way for the door.

"Thank you, Captain...For saving us down there...and looking for my husband."

Orion stood with a pensive expression for a moment before speaking.

"Sorry I wasn't there sooner."

He offered a single nod before excusing himself. Once the door shut behind him, Caleb covered his face with his palms, grunting into them loudly.

"...Is everything alright, Sir?" The guard asked.

"Everything's fine...Ramirez, was it?"

"Yes, Sir. Private Eddy Ramirez."

"Right...Well, keep up the good work." Caleb produced a rather vain compliment after failing to think of anything else to say.

Caleb pushed himself off the hatch to walk off, believing the exchange to be done.

"Sir...Can I ask you a question?"

Captain Orion glanced over his shoulder, seeing Ramirez watch the civilians through the mirror. On the interior, Rosaline had taken her place at her son's side, lifting him gently and placing him into the cot before sitting in the chair next to it. She wiped a collection of tears from her face.

"What is it, kid?"

"...What the hell was that thing down there?" Ramirez had been nervously rubbing the wraps around his forearms before adjusting a bandage on his neck, covering a slash that had barely missed the young man's throat.

Caleb hadn't noticed the neck wrap earlier, simply too distracted to truly take in the details of Ramirez's appearance. He reprimanded himself for being dismissive of his subordinates.

Orion looked down at his own arm, covered in a bandage as well. He thought of answering with a quip, or something cocky like he used to do regularly. But when he gave it more thought...He really had no idea what he was up against.

"I don't know. I've never seen anything other than a Simulacrum phase-shift before. And even then, not that frequently."

"...How are we going to take down something that we can't shoot?"

"I'm still working on that part."

"Well, regardless, if you didn't show up when you did, those civvies in there would be dead."

Caleb looked up, stunned.

"...What?"

Ramirez caught wind of the Captain's shock and cleared his throat.

"She was trying to get past us. Cutting through us to get inside. She almost did until Warrant Iroh, myself and Bradford tried to tackle her down…"

He gestured to the bandage.

"I got lucky...Bradford...well...not so much…"

Caleb approached the mirror and Ramirez, staring him down intensely.

"Ramirez...did that thing see them?" He asked, pointing at the woman and child within the room.

The young soldier nodded slowly with an apprehensive look, seeing what the Pilot was getting at.

"...Y-Yes, Sir."

"...Fuck…" Orion muttered, smacking a palm against his forehead.

"...What do we do, Sir?"

"Hope they don't come looking to tie up loose ends. We've got everything they want on this ship. Supplies, Militia officers, the survivors…"

Captain Orion grunted and cursed under his breath. Yet again, a wrench had been thrown into the mission, raising the tension and stress the crew was already under. He angrily stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned to leave, only looking at the Soldier once more to state a command.

"Double the guard."

"Sir?"

"You heard me, can't be too careful out here. With these mercs running around plus pirates, I'm not taking any chances with the civvies. No one sees these civilians without direct authorization from Captain McKay or myself."

The mention of pirates seemed to stump the Private. He was present when the Captain gunned down the two Marauders in the bar with no remorse, and was sure he'd do it again if given the chance.

"Yes, Sir."

With that, Caleb stormed off, needing time and space to come up with a course of action.

The Marauder Corps Pilot wandered the vast halls of the vessel until he reached the observation deck; his usual thinking spot. The man leaned against the firm steel railing that lined the expansive viewport that formed a half-circle around the deck.

Captain Orion clasped his palms together while staring out into the void of space, searching for answers to his problems in the millions of visible beacons that littered the blackness.

When they met the enemy again, and they would certainly meet again, what was he to do?

He was originally charged with a simple mission; find the enemy, figure out what they wanted, and then kill them. Now, he had civilians to rescue and a plethora of mysteries to solve. Who were they after and what good did hitting civilian colonies do? And who the hell was supplying the enemy all the manpower and equipment? They had special forces grade infantry equipment and military spec Titans equal to that of the Frontier Republic's arsenal.

Needless to say, the Captain's mission changed. Caleb pondered how to go about rescuing captives when the enemy was so proficient at stealth, swift operations and keeping the enemy at a distance unless they wanted to engage. Perhaps he could distract them with a pitched battle while attempting to infiltrate their stronghold.

That plan alone revealed another problem in itself, finding their base of operations. He wasn't exactly sure what they used, and where they'd even be. He groaned, realizing that to make any progress, he would need to endure a lengthy discussion with Wright and McKay before making any decision.

Caleb sighed, getting nowhere with planning.

Eventually, his mind doubled back to the colony. The smell of burning corpses had stuck with him since they left and made his skin crawl. He couldn't shake the number of corpses that littered the streets and interiors of homes. Men, women, and children. Caleb tried to latch onto the fact that at least Rosaline and her son were alive, but he couldn't find comfort in the very real fact that they were not safe.

Burying his head into his hands, Caleb let out another agitated sigh originating from his lack of focus.

"You seemed a little jealous in there." A soft voice broke the silence on the deck.

Caleb didn't even bother to investigate the voice. He knew no one was there with him. Not really.

This time was different, however, as he managed to stay relatively calm. He was too tired, too shaken to bother fighting it this time. He let his hallucination run its course.

"I was." He admitted, finally looking up and to his right, seeing Allison lean against the railing next to him.

She'd been watching the stars as intently as Caleb himself had done his first time on the observation deck all those years ago. It occurred to him at that moment that he hadn't focused on the details of her face since the hallucinations began, and prior to that he often avoided looking at her picture.

Now he found himself lost.

Enigmatic, intricate, dangerous, and beautiful. All expressed by orbs of emerald green and locks of jet black.

Caleb stared at her longingly, trying to hold his composure and fighting the urge to try and hold her as if she was really there with him.

"Really? I wasn't expecting you to be honest about that. Are you ready to talk?"

Caleb didn't answer at first, instead offering a subtle defeated head shake. He chose to ignore both the comment and the question, beginning to speak his mind.

"That's all I ever wanted for you. A chance to have a normal life. No war, no killing. Just us and a shot at being free. Remember when I told you about the high waves and green trees on Nye? That's what I wanted."

"It never really mattered to me, as long as we were together."

"It mattered to me. I couldn't stand what Maren turned you into. What I turned you into."

She turned to face him.

"What do you mean?"

"A weapon. We turned you into a weapon. I thought that by killing Maren I could undo what he did to you."

"It wasn't your fault...The Frontier made me something else long before I met you. I was fighting since I was sixteen, Caleb."

Caleb wouldn't have any excuse.

"You needed me, and I let rage and my own sense of what was right get in the way of that. I never realized that I was doing the same thing he was all along. I could've fixed it...fixed us, if I wasn't so blind. I wanted to protect you...But look at what I did. The only difference between Maren and I was that I wasn't giving you orders. IMC or Militia, didn't matter, we still made you kill."

"You only did what you thought was right. No one can fault you for that. I don't."

"Yeah, and it turned out to be completely wrong. I thought by being the best I could save everyone. Instead, everyone ended up dead and I needed you to save me from Maren...And I called in that god damn airstrike."

"Caleb, don't do this to yourself."

"I killed you, Allison."

"Caleb, you need to let g-"

"It should've been me, I know that."

"Captain Orion, it's Lieutenant Wright." Caleb's radio abruptly rang out. The Captain looked down at his belt where the radio cracked from. Out of instinct, his hand went for it, but he stopped himself. He exhaled loudly as his hand retracted.

He turned to face Sorin again.

"Allison, I'm sor-"

She was gone again. With a sunken heart, Caleb stared at the spot she occupied for a few moments until his radio buzzed again.

"Captain? Are you there?"

Caleb slowly reached for his radio and brought it up to his face.

"I'm here, Terra." Caleb weakly spoke into the radio.

"Do you have some time? I think we need to talk. I'm at the fitness center on deck five."

"Yeah. Yeah, I've got some time. I'll be there in a few."

"Sounds good, I'll be here."

With the exchange over, Caleb placed the radio back on his belt. He turned to face the expanse again before wiping his face with his jacket's sleeve. He fought the urge to vomit before pushing himself off the railing and turning to leave.

15 MINUTES LATER
MCS REDEYE - FITNESS FACILITY

Captain Orion stepped into the facility, taken aback by its retrofits. What was once a small cargo storage bay with a couple of weights strewn about was now a proper mini gym to accommodate crew member fitness plans.

Caleb began to wonder how much money the Republic spent on the ship. He also wondered why he was called there of all places. The ship had better places to talk, a bar, for example. At least there he could get a drink.

A plethora of soldiers and crewmen were littered around the efficiently used space, all partaking in several different routines. Free weights, weight machines, sparring, treads and more.

The pilot began to wander, searching for the Lieutenant.

"Wright?"

A few agitated heads popped up to investigate the source of the disturbance yet were quick to return to their workouts rather than face off with Orion.

"Captain! Over here." A taxed voice called out for him.

Caleb followed Wright's beckon until he found her, laying hate in the form of repeated kicks and punches to a suspended punching bag. She displayed a certain level of speed and aggression that didn't exactly fit her personality; but then again, she was a soldier, a pilot at that.

Regardless, he was just glad he wasn't on the receiving end of her barrage.

The Captain leaned against the adjacent wall, waiting for the Lieutenant to finish her routine. He tried analyzing her technique but couldn't seem to lock down a specific martial art as the Pilot used a broad mix.

"You kick box?"

"Apparently." Wright responded between her strikes.

Caleb tilted his head quizzically, not sure he understood the odd response.

"...Well...I mean you're thrashing that bag silly…"

Terra stopped, only after throwing an aggressive and explosive haymaker. She went for her water bottle.

"Yeah, that's kinda what I wanted to talk to you about."

Caleb recoiled with a confused expression.

"Fighting?"

The Lieutenant chuckled lightly before taking a long swig.

"No, but on that note, wanna go a round?" She tossed the water bottle aside and cocked a hip to the side, gesturing towards the fighting mat as she did.

"Umm. I feel like I'm at a bit of a distinct disadvantage here."

"Why's that?"

Caleb would never admit it, but he couldn't see a victory in his current state. He'd been out of practice with regards to hand to hand, and certainly had too much to drink after Alexandria.

And most of all, the woman looked to be made of Iron. Her arms and legs were defined, even by a Militia Pilot's standards. Her core was toned as well. Caleb couldn't identify a weak point like he could with most people.

Not to mention her lethal-looking routine.

After analyzing the Lieutenant, he spoke.

"...Tanks and shorts are a bit more maneuverable than combat pants and boots."

"Excuses, excuses, Captain."

"Fine, fine." Caleb relented and unzipped his duty jacket, throwing it off to the side before unclipping his holster from his belt and placing the weapon down with his jacket. The Pilot removed everything from his pockets, every pouch from his belt and removed his watch. Soon the corner of the area was a small pile of Caleb's equipment.

With the extra weight discarded, Caleb slipped his hands into the spare set of MMA gloves that were conveniently placed by the Lieutenant's water bottle. She'd planned for this. He sighed.

"Come on, it'll be fun." Wright assured, taking her place, raising her fists. "Ready?"

"Yeah, I'm ready-" Just as the Captain turned, an immediate jab impacted the side of his face. He stumbled back. "Argh, son of a-, Ugh!"

"...Sorry, you said you were ready! Are you okay?"

"Cheap shot, Wright." He flexed his jaw with a groan. "Jesus Christ, you hit like a fuckin' truck!"

Caleb shook his head, regaining his bearings with an unimpressed grunt before taking up his close-quarters fighting posture.

Both fighters kept their distance, skeptical to launch in for an attack. Despite showing innate skill, Terra wasn't thrilled with the idea of rushing Captain Orion, who had a reputation for being a savage close-quarters fighter. Caleb, on the other hand, having received a blow as hard as he had just got, wasn't keen on seeing what else she could do.

"Well?" Caleb started, inching forward slowly, cautiously watching his opponent. "What did you want to talk about?"

The Captain exploded into action while awaiting a response, throwing a swift left hook which the Lieutenant easily dodged, ducking away from danger. Caleb took advantage of the withdrawal and raised his right fist for an uppercut. Terra swat away his fist, took a step back and retaliated with a head kick, sending her leg whipping towards the Captain.

With a split second to react, Caleb raised his arm, just barely blocking the blow with his wrist. With the fresh stitches and hard blows, the Captain winced and cursed under his breath while backing off from the assault. They'd barely traded blows and Caleb was already getting rocked.

Terra backed off for a moment as well, both fighters now reevaluating the other.

Though the Captain hadn't managed to get a hit in on her, he'd managed to deflect one of her inhumanely quick kicks, which alone intimidated her.

"How do I put this?" Terra questioned before muttering aloud to herself. "Man, this was a lot easier with VC."

"VC? What's this got to do with VC?" Caleb dropped his guard.

"Look, Sir, I can't remember things. A lot of things."

Terra took advantage of his dropped guard, dashing in for a swift jab. The Captain swiftly caught wind, dodging and attempting to launch Wright over his shoulder. She resisted, however, in the form of a knee coming up and slamming into his gut.

Caleb grunted, collapsing to a knee with a laboured cough. He slammed a fist on the ground before forcing himself back up.

"Terra, what do you mean? I don't understand, you're not making much sense."

"I wasn't honest with you about Typhon. I wanted you to be confident in my skills and trust that I'd do well as a new pilot...So, I didn't tell you everything."

Caleb always felt there was something missing, but couldn't piece it together. Despite her starry-eyed nature and always looking for ways to be a better pilot, it seemed...feigned to some degree, like she was trying to make up for lacking something else. At first, he just assumed she was being a kiss-ass on Harmony. It didn't make much sense to Caleb considering how viciously she fought on Alexandria and how well she fought now. She sure didn't seem like she needed any advice from an alcoholic, regardless of how new a pilot she was.

Then again, it wouldn't be the first time he'd been wrong.

This time, they both backed off, allowing for a more focused conversation. Unsure of exactly what to say, Caleb simply rotated his wrist, gesturing for her to continue.

"I got hurt on Typhon. I don't remember much, just a lot of fighting. Well, whatever happened...It messed me up pretty good. The Doctors and Iroh had to tell me pretty much everything. I can't remember my family, my home. But, I still remember how to fight real good...so there's that…?"

Something wasn't right. It wasn't necessarily that he doubted her ability, but why would President Day herself deploy him, of all people, with Wright, who couldn't even remember where she was born. She'd been made a pilot after her injury on Typhon and was still given the responsibility of command. The whole thing bothered Caleb, on top of the enemy motive still escaping him.

Before he could dwell on it any longer, Terra spoke again, more sincere this time.

"I just wanted someone like you to trust me. To trust that I could do this. After everything that Iroh told me, I saw you as a hero and figured that, even if I couldn't remember anything but fighting, at least you'd be able to help me serve the Republic and be as good a pilot."

Caleb had a familiar pang of guilt when she spoke again. She reminded him of what Barker had said to him not too long ago, and what he'd just said to his hallucination; wanting more than just fighting. In addition, it was fair to say he was rather disappointing when it came to being a 'hero'.

"I can't remember anything, and I don't know how I'm supposed to lead these men and women against Apex Predators."

Caleb stood awkwardly while thinking of what to say. He wasn't exactly sure how to comfort the Lieutenant other than to level with her. He wasn't good with this sort of thing, but figured maybe some sort of empathy would work.

"I know what it's like to lose." Caleb finally spoke after some hesitation. "Everything."

"I know." Terra answered in a low tone.

Caleb looked up immediately, a sharp look of surprise on his face. The mixed expression of pity and sympathy painted on Terra's face let Orion know - she truly knew. Everything. He fought the urge to protest, to demand how and what she knew, but figured it wouldn't do any good. She had mentioned VC earlier and figured it was more than likely his mechanical friend that had revealed much about him, for one reason or another.

"...You what?"

Wright looked at the ground, avoiding eye contact with the Captain. The two stood in silence for a minute while Caleb struggled to find a way to handle the situation.

"...Then you know that I'm not a hero. I just survived."

"Don't sell yourself short." Terra commanded.

"You first." Caleb shot back, a bit more vitriolic than he wanted.

Terra scowled and crossed her arms.

"I'll hit you again, Sir."

Caleb chuckled. Terra stared back with a stunned expression. He was laughing. She'd opened up to him and he was laughing.

"What's so funny?"

"Nothing...It's nothing...Just something a friend used to say..."

With that, the two fell silent again. Terra removed her gloves and took a seat at the bench surrounding the corner of the room. The newer pilot sighed and grabbed her water bottle and took a long swig of water before watching Captain Orion fiddle on the spot, like an old computer struggling to do, well, anything.

Caleb sat down next to her with an exhausted sigh. It took the man a few moments to say anything before he spoke. Caleb kept his eyes forward, too intimidated by the thought of getting too personal. He overcame the brief fear and turned to face her.

"Look. Terra. You wouldn't be here if the Republic didn't think you could do this. There are thousands of Pilots and Officers in the Militia, and they chose you. That has to mean something."

"Then why would Day send you? After everything you've been apart of, everything you've done. Why are you here on an investigation rather than fighting on the frontlines? Who are you to President Day? What are you doing here?!"

It was a good question. They all were. However, they were questions he didn't have the answers to. The man gave her a blank stare, followed by a subtle delayed shrug.

"...I don't know."

"Do you even want to be here?"

Caleb hesitated. Were he to be honest, he would rather be on the search for leads, maybe drinking himself to death. But then again, he accepted the mission without question. After a moment of silence, he answered firm.

"Yes."

"One more question, and I'll stop giving you the third degree."

"Send it."

"Do you think you can trust me?"

Captain Orion found himself shocked at first, finding the question odd. However, he understood that with her lack of memory and her self doubt, she'd believe others would not trust her to take command. She needed his trust, and though they hadn't known each other long, she'd proven herself an effective partner.

"We're supposed to be a team. I trust you."

"...Okay...Thank you."

"Then let me ask you. Can you bring yourself to trust me?"

Terra flinched, not expecting the man to flip the conversation on her again. "...Why do you ask?"

"I know you feel let down. And you can't convince me that you don't. I'm sure a lot of the men do too. I'm not James MacAllan. And I'm not Jack Cooper. I'm not some super talented Pilot that's gonna save the Militia or whatever. I'm just a man that survived. No hero. Can you accept that?"

"...You said it yourself. We're supposed to be a team."

Caleb nodded slowly.

"A team." Terra repeated, nodding in agreeance before extending her hand.

Caleb looked down quizzically before taking her hand and giving it a shake.

"A team. Now come on, show me a couple of those punches-"

From the pile of gear in the other corner, Caleb's radio crackled, loudly broadcasting Captain McKay's voice.

"Captain Orion, this is Captain McKay, I need to see you on the Bridge. Bring Lieutenant Wright with you."

Caleb stood up and retrieved his radio after giving the other officer a confused look.

"Roger, we'll be up in a few-"

"We've got them."

FIVE MINUTES LATER
MCS REDEYE
COMMAND BRIDGE

Caleb stormed into the Bridge, followed closely by Lieutenant Wright. McKay watched the two enter and offered a stern nod to the two from behind his command station.

"What do we got?" Caleb asked.

McKay straightened his posture and gestured to the tactical display in the center of the room.

"Looks like they couldn't wait to make another hit, they're in the process of attacking an IMC Carrier."

"An IMC Carrier? Are they fucking crazy?" Caleb closely inspected the display for further information.

"Maybe not as crazy as we may think. The ship was orbiting a small planet called Athens, meeting with a small resupply freighter which has since been destroyed. They knew exactly what to target, they forced the ship down and are in the process of taking the ship by force, and judging by the lack of IMC reinforcements, I'd say it's likely they've jammed their communications."

"What could they possibly hope to achieve attacking a ship that size?" Terra asked, looking just as baffled as Caleb.

"Supplies, I'd wager if the freighter is anything to go by. Small arms, dropships, Titans. A ship like that has to be swimming in armaments." McKay pointed to a holographic representation of an IMC Sentinel Class Carrier and its respective specifications. It was as good a guess as any, McKay had a history of being correct.

Whether or not its doctrinal compliment was actually aboard due to the war's cost on the IMC was up for debate...regardless, the ship would benefit any party that could siege it.

"Depends on the ship." Caleb spoke from experience. "What ship are they hitting, McKay?"

"Sensors have it pinged as the IMS Arrowhead."

Caleb froze and stared at the monitor with intensity. Both Terra and McKay watched the Pilot's fists tighten as his eyes raided the screen for information.

"What is it?" The Redeye's Captain asked.

"It's nothing." The tense man coldly responded; his body language and quick, snappy response both screaming the opposite.

"Must be supplies. Other than the account of that Marauder on Alexandria, we've only seen them hitting Militia installations." Terra commented while watching her partner carefully.

"I've got an idea, we have our orders...let's go find out." Caleb turned to leave the room.

McKay was quick to stop the man, providing more intelligence before he recklessly left. "Orion. The Arrowhead was forced to land, not shot down - expect a heavy IMC presence on top of those Mercenaries."

"Understood. I'll take Wright and her men to scout it out."

"If you need it, you've got Titan support. Don't know if you'll be able to get them inside, but the option's there. In the interest of not burying you under shrapnel and steel, I'm going to limit fire support from the Redeye's batteries and fighter compliment."

"Right. C'mon, Terra."

"Got it."

The two fled the room with haste, walking in relative silence. It was Terra that probed the man for a response as they walked the halls. She tugged at his jacket, getting him to look over his shoulder and slow down.

"So what's the problem with that ship? You don't seem thrilled. At all."

Caleb sighed before giving in. She already knew pretty much everything, might as well continue being open with his newfound trust in his partner.

"I served on that ship. It's where I met Allison. Well, after we got shot up planet-side."

"Oh…"

"Never thought I'd see that ship again."

"You don't have to go down there. I can take this one."

"In your shorts and tank-top? No, it's time for Lance Corporal Orion to come home. It's been long enough."

"What, I don't look good?" Terra quipped back, gesturing to herself. "If you're sure, let me go grab some real fightin' clothes and I'll meet you at the dropship bay in ten. Armour stops bullets, abs don't. I'll radio Iroh and get the lads ready."

Caleb simply nodded and made his way to the hangar after a quick stop to the medical bay where he'd left his gear in a heap the day prior.

Soon enough the two Militia officers reconvened, both dressed in their olive-drab Militia equipment.

"Ready?" Terra asked while pulling her helmet over her head.

"Yeah." The Captain's voice was monotone as he tightened the sight screws atop his rifle.

"You gonna be alright down there?" She asked, one last time.

"I'll be alright, let's just not be there any longer than we have to." Caleb answered while opening a magazine pouch from his belt. He inspected the top of the magazine, ensuring the rounds were seated properly before bringing it towards his weapon for loading.

"Okay. Just let me know. I've got your back."

Caleb paused for a moment, nearly dropping the magazine from his hand. He stopped to look at the Lieutenant as she walked towards the fleet of Crow dropships, barking a series of commands to her soldiers.

"Caleb?"

VC's robotic voice chimed in over Caleb's helmet radio, snapping him back to reality.

"Go ahead, pal."

"Your heart rate has increased significantly, are you alright?"

"...I...don't know."

The soldier experienced a brief shiver. He was a scared kid again. Knowing Terra and all those men were looking for his guidance all while looking up to him, and in Terra's case; looking out for him directly, frightened him. Now was one of those times Caleb was glad he wore a helmet so often, as without it, anyone could see how he truly felt.

He was scared.

"I will monitor your vitals, be safe."

"Yeah...Yeah, I'll keep you posted..."

Caleb fed the magazine into his rifle and racked the action to the rear and allowed it to go forward. Placing the weapon on safe, Caleb tried to shake off any fear and marched his way over to Wright's dropship.

He silently stepped aboard, passing the men who he had believed he'd previously let down. Their nods of approval and quips speaking otherwise.

"Told you he wouldn't stay down."

"It'll take more than some freak to keep this guy on the ground."

Typically, one might find the whispers of praise intoxicating or motivating. However, they scared Captain Orion even more. Even in failure, they found some way to put him on a pedestal, and that was incredibly dangerous. There were some men aware of this. Sergeant Krauss and Warrant Iroh among the few. Both men watched the Pilot with caution and intense scrutiny as he boarded.

The Militia Captain ignored their gaze and made his way to the front of the dropship, taking his place next to Terra as the fleet prepared to depart.

"McKay, it's Orion. We're ready."

"Roger that, take it slow, maybe try and let the two factions kill each other off a bit. We'll monitor you from above. Good luck."

"Aye." Caleb simply responded.

Shortly, the line of dropships raced out of the hangar, descending towards the planet below. Eventually, the massive IMC vessel came into view, resting in massive rock canyon with counter ship battery scoring along the sides. Towards the bow, a handful of IMC fighter craft engaged their attackers, putting up a stalwart defence. Luckily for the Militia, they were still far enough away to avoid detection from either side.

The all-too-familiar sound of distant gunfire and explosions raged throughout the surface and within the Carrier itself, muffled by distance and containment.

Caleb took the time to observe the massive ship. While the Arrowhead had sustained some damage, it certainly wasn't enough to kill her. Her engines were damaged enough to force a landing, that much was clear, but she suffered no more than a few hull breaches.

Other than that, the ship was exactly as Captain Orion remembered it.

As the chatter picked up in the dropship, Caleb gazed out the window, focusing solely on the Arrowhead. She'd gotten old. The IMC Carrier had seen its share of deployments around the Frontier and the last five years were anything but kind.

The man found himself reading the painted ARROWHEAD along the hull over and over. The scorched hull held his attention for a great deal of time as the Militia force approached carefully, reconnoitering from a safe distance.

"Caleb?"

The Captain looked up, seeing Allison standing there, fiddling with her hands and watching him with concern on her face. The man blinked and Terra took her place. His helmet covered gaze lingered for a moment, prompting the Lieutenant to speak again.

"What's on your mind?"

Caleb turned his head to the window again, not quite ready to confess to her that he saw his dead girlfriend everywhere almost everyday. Although, she'd proven herself smart, and if his display in the medical ward was any indication, she may have already figured it out.

Regardless, he avoided speaking truthfully as he typically would.

"...Just...A lot of memories I didn't want to dig up. I remember playing bullshit, an old card game, with my best friend in the mess on that ship. Going to the shooting range to stay fresh...The stale air of the crew barracks."

He let out a small chuckle.

"There was one time my friend stole a challenge coin from the Company Commander's desk. He was freaking out and I stored it in my barracks box to try and keep him out of trouble. I got shredded to ribbons. Extras, contract deductions, you name it. I disappointed Keller so much."

Terra simply listened to him speak, relishing at the moment she thought would never come. Captain Orion talking openly.

"But he was my brother, and I didn't want him to get in trouble."

"What was his name?"

"Philip. We both came from Nye and joined together. He died taking a bullet for me."

"I'm...sorry...He sounded like a good man." Terra had known about the man just as VC had told her, but would never cut Orion off.

Caleb sighed behind his helmet before looking back out at the carrier. They were getting close. His rambling and remembrance would have to wait.

"He was." He answered before approaching the cockpit and placing a hand on the shoulder of the Crow dropship pilot.

"Put us down on top of the Carrier towards the stern, try to keep us out of sight of both the mercs and the IMC."

"On top, Sir?" The pilot glanced over his shoulder.

"It'll cover our infil and if we need to pop smoke fast, we'll meet you on the starboard side hull breach."

The pilot looked to his co-pilot and shrugged before giving a thumbs up.

"Roger that, Sir. We'll get you on that Carrier."

The fleet of Crows performed as instructed, flying dangerously close to one another towards the stern of the IMS Arrowhead. Atop the massive war machine was a Titan-sized hull breach likely made by an enemy fighter. For a semi-covert infiltration, it was a perfect advantage. That would be their way in.

"Thinking what I'm thinking?" Terra asked, pointing towards the hull breach having taken notice of Caleb's focus.

"Absolutely. Get your men to prep the zips."

Terra nodded, bringing her wrist communicator up to her face while stepping out of the cockpit.

"Alright, boys, who's ready to fly on a zipline? I sure am! We're gonna drop right into this big-ass ship and play it conservatively. We close in on the mercs and let em' have it. Hooah?"

A loud hooah recited into the platoon net as a response.

"You heard the lady, boys. Time for some hazard pay, ready up." Sergeant Krauss prepared his squad within the confines of their dropship.

The interior of the shuttle was suddenly deafening with the sounds of bolts and slides being partially cocked to the rear with Militia soldiers conducting their final press-checks on their rifles and side-arms.

One by one, the dropships touched down and dropped their ramps, letting a Platoon of Militia soldiers pour out into their standard defensive posture with a handful of fireteams carrying zipline pylons towards the hull breach.

The Militia soldiers planted their pylons at the base and secured them, firing a cable into the steel depths below while a fireteam watched the chasm for contact. A Militia rifleman tested the stability of the cable and was about to depart down the line before being stopped by Orion.

"Age before beauty." He mumbled, slowly approaching the hull breach. "I'll go first."

The rifleman stepped back, allowing the Captain to go first.

Caleb glanced down the hole and back to his platoon.

"I'll let you know when it's clear." He spoke to Terra who approached the chasm for the first time, taking a long look downward.

"You sure?" She asked, seeming displeased with his idea.

"Better than committing the whole group immediately."

Terra nodded and trusted her partner's decision.

Caleb approached the breach, preparing to leap in. Staring into the darkness, hearing familiar voices calling to him.

"...Finally coming home? Go ahead, Caleb. We're all waiting for you..."

The pilot took one last look below and one last deep breath before stepping into the chasm, letting the black abyss swallow him and allowing gravity to bring him racing towards the bottom. The wind produced by his speed blew the fabrics of his uniform around, blowing his sleeves up by his elbows. His helmet dampened the normally deafening sound of wind resistance against his armor and body.

As he reached the bottom, Orion's jumpkit engaged, thrusting him upward. The sudden jolt of energy in the complete opposite direction always made him nauseous. A moment later his boots made contact with the interior of the IMS Arrowhead for the first time in over five years with a loud clang. He leveled his G2, scanning for immediate threats, prepared to engage the first thing he saw.

Empty.

"Welcome home."

Caleb spun around, waving the battle rifle frantically to meet whoever was speaking to him. Still empty. The Pilot waited and listened. He lightly tapped the side of his helmet, telling himself to focus.

As he had hoped, most of the fighting was towards the bow now, or at least had been on lower decks if the distant screaming and gunfire was anything to go by.

"All clear?" Terra's voice came in over the radio.

Caleb took a few moments to respond, enthralled by the surroundings.

"Clear."

Terra landed shortly after the all-clear was given, landing in a similar fashion as he had. She was swiftly followed by the first wave of fast ropers down the zipline, including Krauss and Iroh. The Militia soldiers hesitantly took up their security positions. For many of them, it'd been their first time on an IMC ship. Mixed with the presence of their new foes, it was an intensely unpleasant experience.

"So, where the hell are we?" Sergeant Krauss asked, taking in the vast halls.

"A maintenance junction, close to the top of the ship. Crew quarters are in the middle, both level and lengthwise. The administration deck is just below that. Hangar on these ships is closer to the front, and the bridge is well ahead of that."

"Where do we start?"

Caleb pondered. He had to get close to the enemy, but certainly wasn't keen on jumping in while the IMC was still in full force. They would have to get closer but far enough away to avoid joining the pitched battle.

"Crew quarters. The mercs swept through homes to look for survivors back on Alexandria, it's safe to bet they'll try the same thing. We'll try there, take out any mercs and move on. If we're unlucky there, we'll sweep the admin deck and then move to either the hangar or storage."

"That may take too long." Iroh interjected.

Caleb glanced up at the Warrant.

"They moved fast at Alexandria, I fear they may be long gone by the time we move through this ship."

"What are you suggesting?" Terra tilted her head, sensing he had a point to make.

"Let me take three-section and the heavy weapons team and start heading for the Hangar. If we can set up a Killzone there, we might be able to catch the Mercs before they head out. Dish out some real damage. You and the platoon commander can take the remainder and sweep the decks."

"No." Caleb answered immediately and curtly. "We're not splitting the group for a chance like that. We'll play it safe and slow as a whole group."

"Sir, all due respect, it's not your call to make." Krauss was quick to back Iroh up and remind the Captain of who had command of the platoon.

"I don't remember asking for permission, Sergeant." Caleb hissed.

"Gents, now's not the time." Terra started, regaining command swiftly. "Iroh, take what you need and do it. But do not engage unless given direct orders by myself. Report what you see and keep your distance, we don't need to lose anyone else."

"Yes, Ma'am." Iroh nodded and departed, taking the elements required to complete his task.

Caleb watched half of the platoon depart, completely dumbfounded at what had transpired. Every one of them had seen the enemy capabilities on Alexandria and now the risk was doubled with IMC Marines and Pilots in the mix. And yet, Iroh was keen on taking the risky route without either Pilot accompanying them.

"Ready to go?" Terra asked.

Discontent with the decision, Caleb grunted and started to move. "Let's get this done."

The group slowly and meticulously patrolled the darkened inner halls of the Arrowhead, flinching at every sound in the distance. Emergency lights beamed red waves onto their green uniforms and reflected off of their raised weapons, highlighting the soldiers every few moments.

Two riflemen led the group, following the directions given to them by their resident expert. In the middle of the group stood Caleb and Terra with Krauss not far behind giving commands to their rearward security. The Infantry Sergeant glanced over his shoulder, watching Captain Orion closely before muttering to himself.

"Good thing we brought a compass."

Spare the distant gunfire and screams and the occasional spark of failing electronic systems, it had been quiet in their area. Caleb couldn't hear any of it, however. His focus had been entirely on directing the group through the familiar hallways. As much as he despised the IMC for what they had done to him and the Frontier, he couldn't shake the feeling of unease seeing the Arrowhead damaged as she was. It was a goliath and yet here it sat, besieged by what could be mercenaries often hired by the IMC.

Terra grabbed his shoulder and gave him a light tug, making him turn to face her.

"Scared to lose anyone else? Remember how that turned out last time?" Allison's voice criticized him.

"What?" Caleb shook his arm free.

"I said; I know you think it's a bad call but you gotta trust me. I trusted your leap of faith, remember?"

Caleb stared blankly at her for a moment before shaking his head.

"...I know, but this is different. We may be winning but the IMC aren't pushovers. Plus, with those freaks out there, I hate the idea of minimizing our firepower." Caleb ended the discussion there, continuing to follow the pointmen through the Arrowhead.

Terra scoffed quietly to herself, knowing full well 'firepower' wasn't why he was so concerned.

In time, they started to find the bodies and blood. IMC Marines, service personnel, scrapped Spectres, all littering the hallways with a sea of spent casings and bullet holes scoring the walls.

However what caught Captain Orion's attention the most were the handful of bodies that weren't IMC. The familiar black uniforms of their attackers.

"Well, it looks like the IMC is doing better than us." Krauss observed, referencing the lack of killed enemies on Alexandria. The man kicked one of the deceased hostiles as he passed by.

Caleb stopped, taking a knee by one of the fallen. He searched the pockets while observing their uniforms and weapons once again. L-Stars, R201s, Hemloks. Not cheap by any means.

He found nothing noteworthy, however. With a sigh, he carried on, close to their objective.

Shortly after their brief stop, the pointmen gave a halt hand signal, pointing his rifle towards an open hatchway, its light spilling into the dark hallway.

"Captain, open door up ahead, left side." The lead rifleman reported.

"That's our objective. Stack up." Caleb commanded.

"Roger."

Caleb joined the group amassing by the door, waiting to enter.

"Send the squeeze."

The man in the rear of the stack squeezed the tricep of the man in front of him, continuing to the front, signaling each man was ready. By the front man's lead, the swarm of Militiamen entered the room, weapons raised.

"Right clear!"

"Left clear!"

With the room clear, each soldier could take in their surroundings with greater attention to detail. Caleb, however, didn't need to do much focusing, he recognized his old room almost immediately. He slowly marched to the back left corner of the large room.

Much of the room was filled with overturned cots and half-dressed dead men who had been caught unprepared by their relentless enemy. The sound of open taps from the communal showers still lingered in the background, as did a series of alarms, blaring to dead men.

"Poor bastards never even had a chance." One of the Militia soldiers mumbled while searching for anything of note.

Caleb ignored the comment and stared blankly at a lone cot in the back of the room.

Terra came marching into the room, investigating what her soldiers discovered. She reeled upon seeing the bloodbath and moved to the security of Captain Orion, who had been standing rigid in the back, his sight never leaving one particular bed.

"What is it?" She asked, seeing no significance in the cot.

"...Something isn't right. Why attack this ship?" He spoke, answering her question with another.

"I still reckon supplies." She shrugged.

"They could attack any ship for that. Militia...IMC...doesn't matter. The IMC alone has dozens of ships still operational out here...Maybe even in this system. So, why attack this ship?"

"What are you thinking?"

Caleb brushed off his thoughts as unlikely and got to his feet, gesturing towards the door.

"It's nothing. Let's get a move on."

The Captain replaced the riflemen upfront, now leading the group through the innards, subconsciously increasing their pace significantly. Luckily enough for the Militia, they made no contact with any IMC or 'Apex' forces while traversing to the deck below.

Much of the administrative deck had been torn to pieces, raided for intelligence by their foe. The group spent as much time as they needed to go room to room, searching for any sort of lead.

Eventually, their search led them to a series of offices tucked away in the recesses of the deck. Main command staff by the looks of it. Company commanders, Captain's quarters, the war room, and several other high profile offices.

Caleb broke off from the group, with Terra unsurprisingly following close behind.

He paused outside one office, a look of malice growing on his face.

On the hatchway bore a large plate with black lettering, claiming ownership of the office to one Colonel Kenneth Maren.

Caleb looked up at the panel with intense disgust. His grip tightened around his rifle.

"After five god damn years, they still have this asshole's name plastered on everything."

"Since Demeter, we've had the upper hand, it's a fair assumption they just haven't gotten a replacement yet."

Caleb grunted and slid the hatchway open, letting his G2 hang and raising his Wingman simultaneously. He stepped in first, finding the office trashed and extremely dusty. The only intact object was the terminal on the main desk.

The holographic display had been activated and remained on standby. Its light blue glow illuminated the dark office, highlighting the extent of damage the interior had received. It looked as if a tornado had gone through.

"Looks like they beat us here." Orion mumbled while examining the room.

"That, or the crew hated this guy as much as, or more than you did."

"Hard to top me in that regard."

Caleb shoved his Wingman back into its holster and made way for the terminal on Maren's desk.

"Let's see if we can figure out what they're doing here."

The Pilot immediately got to work, typing away at the keypad.

Wright slowly patrolled the room while Caleb worked, examining the slew of medals and photos littered about. The crunch of glass under her boot made her pause and look down. A black picture frame with a shattered face sat on the floor amongst the other scrap. Terra squatted down, taking hold of the frame as she did. She turned it over to inspect the image, seeing a squad of IMC Pilots gathered for a pre-mission photo.

The man in the middle, the oldest, she could safely assume was the prior owner of the office she and the Captain had been investigating. The man that was responsible for much of the physical and psychological torment Caleb Orion had endured. The rest were unrecognizable to her spare one woman standing next to the Colonel. She'd seen the woman's jet black hair and emerald eyes once before, dressed in Militia olive drab and caked in the stains of warfare in a picture with Captain Orion himself.

This was Captain Allison Sorin.

There wasn't a smile on her face this time, however. A blank, emotionless stare plastered her face, giving Terra an eerie feeling. Her almost lifeless green eyes, beaming a thousand-yard stare broadcasted the horrors of war that they'd seen. Whether or not she was the victim or perpetrator of some of those horrors, Terra would never know.

Her posture was straight, unnaturally so, seeming as if she was completely unburdened by the grey suit that hugged her body uncomfortably or the plethora of equipment hanging from her belt and tactical webbing. She clutched a weathered G2A4 battle rifle by her side, the same one carried by Orion every day and the same one wielded by herself on Alexandria. The elite IMC warrior was tall, taller than most in the photo except Maren and one other Pilot.

The image hardly painted the picture of an innocent thrust into war, rather, it painted that of an efficient killing machine without remorse. Here, she looked more in line with VC's description of her.

The eerie feeling returned to Terra.

She flipped the image over, revealing a white backing with some black ink text printed on.

"Never forget what you're fighting for. Get the bastard."

Lieutenant Wright glanced up at Captain Orion, who stood motionless behind the monitor at the desk. She couldn't see his expression or know for certain what he was thinking behind the helmet, but she could say for certain he was extremely uncomfortable.

"...They accessed the supply manifest...and personnel files." Caleb finally spoke again as if awakened by her stare.

Terra placed the picture gently back onto a shelf before joining the Captain.

"That confirms the supply run, but why would they do that?"

"Either whoever they're looking for is IMC...or was. They've got access to the entire fleet's records."

"How do they have access from a Pilot's terminal on some random carrier?"

"Either they tortured the Captain into giving them access or someone on their end is a really quick and efficient hacker."

It seemed their foe was more than just effective on the battlefield.

"Who were they looking for?"

"No way to know for sure, but a load of files have been recently opened...and unless someone else has conveniently done this, in this specific office in the last five years since Maren was killed, I'd say we've got a pretty good chance at narrowing it down. They've accessed dozens of files. KIA, MIA, active...deserters…"

"What's wrong?" Terra asked, catching how Caleb lingered on his last words.

"James MacAllan, Marcus Graves, Barker…Eric Keller...and-"

Caleb's posture straightened, and even his helmet couldn't hide the small, audible gasp for air.

Terra came around the desk to better observe what caught the man off guard.

The display showed a young, IMC Marine donning the classic grey fatigues, contrasting the current issued white and grey digital camouflage that the IMC now donned. Clean-shaven, no scars, well kept. The hint of a coy smile on his face. Across the top of the screen, his particulars had been listed. The list started with his name and rank.

Lance Corporal Caleb Orion.

The list continued, citing his place and date of birth, his blood type, a handful of service-related intelligence and ending with the fact that he was wanted for treason.

"Me." Caleb finally muttered.

Terra leaned in, observing the display more closely, barely recognizing the young man. The stark contrast surprised both of them.

"You were cute for an IMC stormtrooper, but I doubt that's why they took a peak." Terra quipped, attempting, and failing, to ease the mind of the shocked Militia pilot standing next to her.

"As do I."

"So the question remains. What the hell do they want?"

"I don't know."

"Well...A large chunk of our leadership or elite troops are defectors from the IMC. Hell, wasn't President Day even a company woman herself?"

"What's your point?"

"They may be looking for correlations. If you all know high ranking Militia officials, they'll search their way up the chain until they find who they're looking for."

Caleb went silent and looked back to the screen, contemplating Terra's theory.

"That...or they just wanna kill you all. Both are equally likely."

"You make a fair point." Caleb agreed.

"You know there are a couple dozen of em' runnin' around we could ask nicely. Rather than contemplating."

"You make another good point. Come on, time for a little payback."

On their way out, Captain Orion paused, spotting something in the corner of the room. He overturned a collection of debris, including a shattered weapon cabinet, retrieving a dusty, old model Hemlok BF-R with an HCOG mounted on the rail.

One of Maren's rifles no doubt.

"Asshole always liked his Hemlok rifles." Caleb muttered while retrieving whatever ammunition was left in the locker, which amounted to three partial magazines.

"You're not taking that thing with you, are you?"

"Better for close quarters than a full-length G2." Caleb justified his choice while slinging his G2 over his shoulder and taking full hold of the green battle rifle.

He sat a magazine into the weapon, handling it gently as if it were some artifact of a long-forgotten age.

Caleb couldn't imagine how many people the weapon he held killed in the hands of Colonel Maren, but only one thing was certain.

He was going to use it against whoever got in their way.

.

.

.

.

A/N: "Oh god, Dan's making excuses again!"

Hey everybody, I know it's been a while but I hope you're still enjoying the story. I owe you guys an explanation as to why the updates have been so far apart. I didn't really want to bring it up, but I'm in the Military. Shocker, I'm sure. I never brought that up because I didn't want any credit or anything like that and also didn't want it to heavily influence or restrict the content (didn't really turn out in my favour), but with the constant gaps in upload times, I figured now was a decent time to bring it up. I've been in for about four and a half years now and it's been especially busy in the last year and a half. Mixed with friends, hobbies, and life in general (including a severe case of writer's block - again), the story took a long break. In addition, I've been working on a story that I'd like to publish as its own separate entity (you might see some familiar faces in there *cough*JackCarver*cough*). The progress on that is very slow as I've got to make an entire world and all its inner workings.

I've also been playing a lot of Apex Legends...

But on the bright side, I did spend a great deal of time working on this story and tweaking some story points. Hope to bring those out soon to you guys.

So that's pretty much the update, not looking to make up excuses but that's what's been going on with me in the last little while. I hope you guys understand why I didn't bring that up and hope that it at the very least clarifies why I've been taking my sweet ass time getting these chapters up.

But, as always, thank you for your patience and continued support, friends.