From the Records of the United Earth Government Department of Military History.
Access Code: Public, DMH Directive.
Start File...
November 28th, 2320
Iron Lotus Training Camp, Outskirts of the City of Arcadia, Reclamation III
Silvie ran, her boots pounding against the artificial surface of the running track, oppressive heat and humidity sticking her uniform to her skin. Sweat running off her face, chest heaving with exertion.
back twinging painfully, the plate carrier uncomfortably front loaded with the simulation rifle poking its barrel painfully into her gut.
Distracted by these pains and bothers, she lost her running rhythm - her boots tripping over each other, sending her falling to the ground. Landing painfully on her equipment, the momentum and a desperate attempt to catch herself causing her to roll for a few meters before coming to a stop. Face up towards the sky, eyes half-closed to protect from the blinding sun.
Silvie’s ears rang, a long, digital beep sounded in the distance, signaling the end of the training session. She heard the trainer’s boots jogging up to meet her, the shadows of the approaching figures temporarily soothing the heat on her skin. “Impressive.” a masculine voice sounded somewhere from above, “Ten kilometers in twenty-nine minutes ten seconds, a new record.”
“Thank you, sir.” Silvie said, accepting an offered hand. Being pulled shakily to her feet, stumbling towards a table, she downed the pre-prepared warm and slightly salty water. With a moment to relax, she brushed her dark hair out of her eyes.
Now re-orientated, she looked around. The long running track already having the next trainee lined up to start, she placed the empty glass on the table. Walking off the track to the benches, sitting firmly down on the stiff wood.
“That was a nasty fall.” A feminine voice said, tinged with concern. Silvie looked to her left, seeing her squad mates, Red; named after her Firey red hair – or as the training camp designated her, 89. - leaning towards her curiously. “I’m fine” Silvie muttered, finally catching her breath.
“That’s good, Silvie. don’t forget, You die” 90 – who took the nickname of Snow, for her white hair - pointed her thumbs at Red and 87 “I’m stuck with these two assho-”
There was a solid thump as 90 was clapped in the back of the head by 87, yelping in pain they began to argue with each other, voice lowered as to not disturb the Sergeant’s record keeping. Silvie zoned them out, fiddling with her hands anxiously.
One of the approaching medical staff handed her a mirror, she took it. Staring back at her through the reflective material was her own face, short raven hair, strangely regal features and her nickname-inducing silver eyes. To her own eyes, she seemed fine. But let the medical staff fuss over her minor abrasions.
Time seemed to pass quickly, environments staying for a moment and then being washed away. Warm soapy water, the smell of meat and some kind of obviously potted gravy hitting her nose, the whirlwind of senses finally settling on the dark barracks, and the comforting silence and warmth of the bedsheets wrapped tightly around her.
Silvie lay on her side in the bunk, chest rising and falling with deliberate cadence in her deep dreaming sleep. In her dreams, she stood on the side of a cliff. The air was humid, fog and a thick tree jungle-like tree canopy below her. Looking around - taking care to keep her lucidity for this dream in particular – She saw a massive mansion, the shadow of the building cooling her skin down from the humid air.
Her stomach twisted, her senses – finely tuned after years of training activating her fight or flight response. She reached down slowly, carefully taking in the environment with new eyes. The ornate statues standing by the entrance of the mansion losing their artistic quality, taking a role as mere cover. Sliding her hand over the latch of her holster, unlatching it with a quiet pop.
Sliding her hand around the grip, her pointer pressed firmly on the outside of the trigger well she raised the weapon out of its slot, a plastic-y click sounding as it got raised to a ready position, the muzzle pointed down but ready to flick upwards at a moments’ notice.
The moment it was raised to its position, Silvie noticed something. A man to her 7 O’clock. Though it had the shape of a man, Silvie was hesitant to call it such. It’s skin, a pitch black – Not the color black, the black you find staring into the Event Horizon of a Black Hole. - She spun, shifting her stance. Left foot forward, right foot slightly back and arms raised to point the muzzle of the weapon at the figure.
“Stop!” she shouted, putting every ounce of her authority into the demand. Yet, like she expected. It had no effect on the figure, who continued its walk. - Which, to Silvie. Seemed strangely relaxed, like a nobleman at court. - She shouted again, “Don’t move, I’ll shoot!” To her own surprise, her voice changed. Sounding less like the forceful voice of a trained soldier, and more like a scared girl.
And yet, the man continued his walk. His stride still in the uncanny noble walk, uncanny because. Every time she blinked; the man grew far closer than his pace would suggest. In a state of, - even to her own senses – unnatural panic. She fired. The crack of the report from the upscaled Hound Issue version of the Standard Infantry Pistol ringing far louder in her ears than usual.
The man, even seemingly taking the heavier round. Still continuing his pace, Silvie tried to fire again but the gun seemed unnaturally heavy, she looked down. And realized with horror that her body was replaced by that of a small child. The small hands are unable to depress the trigger properly.
Her stomach was sinking, and a jolt of liquid nitrogen was running through her veins. She tried to scream at the man – who was now far closer, reaching a handout to grab her. - Yet, her voice came out as the scared shrieks of a small girl rather than the roar she was intending.
The man reached his hand out, and touching her shoulder he--
“Hey, Silvie!” a sharp whisper came from the top bunk.
Silvie snapped open her eyes, chest matching an un-hearable drumbeat; her brain fully alert due to the rush of adrenaline flowing through her veins. She sat up, before being violently jerked back down by the tightness of the bed sheets wrapped around her.
Looking up, she saw Red’s head, peeking over from the top bunk. The adrenaline, now wearing off. Left only tiredness and a mild annoyance at being awoken so early, laying back against her pillow she took a deep breath. Finally calming her heartbeat and replied. “.. What?” to the head peering from the top.
“Just wanted to make sure you were alright; you were making some... concerning sounds in your sleep.” Red said, peering into the darkness.
“Concerning sounds?” Silvie replied, beginning to move her arms to release some of the pressure. “Oh,” Red began; pulling her head up and replacing it with her feet and legs as she started to lower herself to the floor
“Nothing too embarrassing, of course.” she said, finally landing quietly on the floor and turning to face Silvie – or, at least where she assumed Silvie to be.
“Right....” Silvie replied, shifting back to lay comfortably on her pillow. Pulling the blanket over to cover her from the cold air in the barracks.
Red sat there, listening to the quiet whirring of the heater as it kicked in. “Silvie?” she spoke.
“Yes?” Silvie replied, her voice quiet as sleep began to take her.
“Let... Let me know if you need anything, alright?” Red said, waiting for Silvie to reply.
Waiting for a few moments, she heard Silvie's slow breathing and pulled herself up to her bunk and followed her into sleep shortly afterwards.
The Hounds gathered outside of a large warehouse, snow covering the gravel path they took to get there – the sun rising over the eastern mountain bringing a warm red glow to the tops of the tall spruce trees surrounding the area.
There was a low chatter as the hounds gathered, wondering what was so secretive that they had to walk this far into the wilderness so early in the morning.
Silvie huddled into her jacket, desperately trying to stay warm in the cold, her breath puffing into the air as Red approached - seemingly immune to the cold harassing Silvie.
“So.” she began, walking up next to the shivering woman.” What do you think this is about, a new training session?”
“I hope not.” Silvie said,” I’d prefer to not turn into an icicle today, plus. We had one a few weeks ago, I don’t think they’d do them that often.”
“So, what do you think it is? A new weapon or something?” Red replied, looking up to the sky where blimps were floating, sitting idly like man-made clouds.
“I don’t know.” Silvie said, glancing up at them.
A few moments after the conversation petered out, the Hounds were gathered by some of the camp staff, Red bumped Silvie's shoulder, getting her attention and pointed. Silvie followed the direction of her finger, pointed subtly at one of the staff members.
Silvie studied the man, eyes taking in as much detail as possible. It took her a moment to realize what was different. Compared to the other staff, all in soldierly outfits – guns at their waist, hands resting around and atop their belts, but the ones gathering them up were much different.
Stolen story; please report.
Wearing orange high vis vests and carrying clipboards instead of weapons. Silvie muttered to herself “Technicians? What could that mean, maybe it is some new weapon after all.” Following in line with the rest of the hounds, Silvie was approached by one of the technicians.
He was a young man, short and frazzle haired. “Excuse me.” he said, approaching Silvie – who turned his attention to him. “If you’ll follow me, please.” He finished, beginning to turn and walk away. Internally, Silvie shrugged and began following him. Around the back of the large warehouse. Which, closer now was far larger than she expected.
Being brought into a long hallway, through code-locked doors and biosensors, their scanners sending a shiver down her spine as they begin their identification, the internal heating system of the warehouse was working full blast to keep the ever-pressing cold from getting in. Silvie piped up.
“What is this about?” she said, getting closer to the man. Who didn’t seem to hear her. She cleared her throat, preparing to speak up again. But the act of clearing her throat seemed to pull him out of his inner world
“Sorry ma’am.” he said, checking his clipboard so as not to look at her. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that.”
Silvie smiled, how very typical of the staff – take you into some ominous hallway. And never tell you why until you arrive at whatever task they set out for you.
Silvie, lost in thought, trying to piece together what exactly this gathering was for was taken aback when they reached the doorway – the man opening it up for Silvie, who stepped inside.
Infront of her, was something that took her breath away. She thought it was some kind of massive sculpture at first, the sleek grey metal gleaming in the bay’s white florescent lights said lights revealing its form, the tall biped machine towered over Silvie.
Starting out of her reverie, she started to inspect the mech; her first time seeing one of the machines in person.
The left arm of the biped carried an X17-25 Autocannon, its ammunition belt seemingly covered with added armor to protect against lucky shots cooking off the powerful ammunition.
The right arm was even more interesting, G005-O51 Grenade Launcher sat there, its chamber looking like an open maw. Its insides seemingly ridged to fit varying kinds of shells.
She walked around behind the machine, looking up – she noticed the anti–aircraft rocket launcher attached to the left shoulder with a fresh out of production gyroscopic maneuvering system.
Taking it all in, it was quite a piece of well-designed equipment, Silvie was about to ask for more details. Before the technician walked up to her, offering an earpiece which she slipped in.
“I hope you like the surprise.” 87 said, a clear smile in his voice.
Silvie looked up, to an observation window sitting high on the north wall of the facility room, she could barely make out the familiar tall stature of the middle-aged man.
“That’s one hell of a surprise, pops.” Silvie responded, walking around the base of the machine, running her hand along it.
“Well, I didn’t want to ruin the fun. Plus, central would’ve had my head if I said anything about it to you anyway.” 87 said
“So... do you want me to use this?” Silvie said, stomach twisting into butterflies hoping that her years of simulation training would finally pay off.
“Well.” 87 said, that smile returning. “We didn’t buy it to be an oversized paper weight. There should be a quick start guide in the cart in front of you.”
Silvie looked down, and like a perfectly timed circus act. One of the technicians rolled a cart out to her, the quick start guide mentioned before placed on top of a set of polymer clothes, Silvie recognized it as a G-suit.
Silvie picked up the guide and started flipping through it. “I think I'm familiar...” she said, re-reading the familiar guide.
87 laughed, “You’ve been through the simulations, haven’t you?”
Silvie nodded.
“Even so, I think you’ll be surprised. climb aboard and we can run through some of the new features.”
Silvie followed the instructions, walking over to the front of the mech, scanning her hand on a palm and fingerprint scanner, the front hatch opened with a hydraulic hiss, and she pulled herself up the small ladder.
As Silvie stepped foot inside, she looked around the space, it was scarce. Grey metal walls, painted with stripes of paint seperating various areas of the interior, in the middle of the room in a circular indentation sat the pilot’s seat, made of a familiar fire-resistant plastic, to its left and right sat control panels.
Taking a step towards the seat, the hatch closed behind her. It revealed the underside to be a set of screens, which were black at the time. “Welcome, pilot.” 87 said, putting on his ‘Instructor Voice’ “This is where you’ll be spending days if not weeks of your time on a mission.”
Silvie wandered around as he spoke, discovering various features. Rapidly followed by 87 explaining them. It seemed like it contained everything needed for a sustained operation, water & food recycling, bathrooms, fold-up showers, a sleeping space and some supplies in various boxes and drawers.
She looped around to the front of the mech again, sitting down in the pilot’s seat, which to her surprise she learnt could be folded down to act as a sleeping space.
Silvie noticed a latch on the side of the right-side control panel, and flicked it open, her heart sank.
“Sir?” Silvie asked, interrupting the man’s speech about the various controls and switches which she was more than familiar with.
“Yes?” he replied, taken aback.
“What’s this?” Silvie said, looking down at a battery of switches. With 4 at the bottom, colored red.
“That’s your secondary control systems, lighting, water and power allocation and the like.” he said.
“.. And the red ones?” Silvie questioned
87 took a long sigh before speaking “Those.” he said “are the remote self-destruction switches for the other mechs assigned in your unit. As you are situated in a command mech, you’re the only one that has those. And only for your squad.”
Silvie looked down at the switches, stomach churning at the sight of the red buttons – and their importance.
“I assume you have the one to detonate my mech?” Silvie asked, almost imagining her superior’s face cringing at the tone.
“Of course.” he replied simply.
Silvie let out a long-suffering sigh, reaching towards the seat's arm. She pulled out a familiar cable, removing the cap with a twist – she plugged the cable into the neurosocket under her ear.
The unwelcome phantom sensation of ice-cold liquid pouring into her skull followed, the usual, amber-colored heads-up display blinking into her vision.
Status reports on various systems appeared to her, as the mech slowly whirred to life.
Engines – Nominal,
Weapons – Nominal,
Life Support – Nominal,
Secondary Systems —
Silvie minimized it; and scanned the rest of the HUD, and raised her eyebrow to find that it reported on her Biometrics
As far as she was aware, they were forbidden to have standard biometric implants so, to see detailed information; down to specific information on hormones and brain activity was strange.
Deciding to put it in the back of her mind, something to ask the techs about later, she began to search through the various files stored on the mech’s internal storage.
Eventually, after searching through nested file after nested file; she stumbled across a goldmine. First, and most important – was a fully detailed operator’s manual on the mech, the X-23 Paladin.
Secondly, was an in-built list of simulations – From infantry simulations from varying periods in history, to Air, Naval and Space simulations.
“So, you’ve found them?” 87 said, disturbing the awkward silence that had settled after the button discovery – the neuro socket’s connection boosting his voice.
Silvie jumped at the voice, bumping her head against the ceiling in surprise; she sat back down, holding her head and replied to 87.
“Yes, I’ve found them...” she said, rubbing her aching forehead.
“You know, a neural socket's communicator is very loud in combat configuration, right?”
87 laughed and apologized
“Did you see the simulation I wanted you to run?” he asked
Silvie checked the file structure, and saw, under the Mech Simulations file, a one that softly glowed yellow with a star next to it.
“I can see you in the files, that’s the one.” 87 said.
Silvie could’ve questioned the fact he knew exactly what file he was looking at, or why a specific simulation was being recommended at all.
But she couldn’t; her attention fully focused on a strange feeling in her gut, a twisting whirlpool of nerves and dread.
She looked down at her hands and realized that they were shaking; imperceptibly to anyone but herself, she stared at the file – a supposed random string of numbers, but some part of her knew that the string was less than random.
“012300SAG-A*”
Pushing the nerves down, she opened the file.