Shiny Things

Four Seven Niner loved nothing more than the sensation of taking off, the power of flight strumming through her fingertips as the engines and thrusters of her ship flared to brilliant life all around her.  It was peaceful, and more cathartic in a way that often tended to elude her when she was forced to be on the ground.

“Oops,” There was a loud crashing sound behind the tan skinned woman accompanied by what had recently become a familiar voice just then, “Someone who is not me did that.”

The pilot sighed at the younger Arenian’s attempt at deflection.  Michael J. Caboose had only been aboard the ship a total of twenty minutes and had somehow caused more damage to her transport than what a typical firefight normally would.

Given the blond’s clumsy nature, Four Seven Niner supposed it was a good thing that his mech, Freckles, seemed to be the one who did most of the actual piloting.  Even though that was a pretty unusual set-up in and of itself.  Being out of the ordinary just seemed to be par the course for their crew anymore.

“All right, you.” She called over her shoulder, “What was my only rule for you being allowed up here?”

There was a brief pause as the large rookie evidently tried recalling her earlier order.  He finally got out: “That I was supposed to sit and play the Quiet Game?”

The dark-haired Arenian nodded, “Exactly.” She motioned with her head towards the co-pilot seat, “So sit the hell back and take a load off.”

Tentatively, as if shocked she wasn’t angrier about him disobeying her rules, Caboose settled down into the indicated chair quietly.  His gaze wandered onto the various control panels before him, and with only great effort did he seem to keep himself from reaching for them, before landing on the screen that showcased the ruins of New Luna getting smaller and smaller in the distance of space.

His eyes widened at the sight, for the first time showing some kind of a grasp about what was happening.  Four Seven Niner couldn’t help but look over at him sympathetically.

“Figured you might want to catch a view of your home one last time.” She murmured gently, feeling a need to suddenly fill the uneasy quiet that had descended upon the young man.

“Thank you.” There was a depth of emotion in Caboose’s voice as he gazed down at his hands, “It was lonely and sad there, before Freckles.  But, it was great before the noise happened!  Back before I was left all alone.”

Caboose had apparently gone to “play” in some caves at the edge of New Luna when, at the exact same time that he had found an inert Freckles, Charon evidently deemed the small lunar colony so close to their territory ripe for dismantling.  She’d seen the desolate husks left behind after a Charon strategic attack, so the pilot didn’t even have to imagine what that must have been like.  When Charon wanted a place gone, they made sure it was obliterated.

Honestly, Four Seven Niner didn’t even want to think of how upset and terrified the kid sitting next to her had to have been once he realized that he had lost everyone he had cared for all at once.  In a way, it almost explained Caboose’s current behavior.

Besides, since she had been raised in a small Arenian colony herself, she felt a tinge of sympathy for the mech pilot, allowing her to be more patient with him than she usually would be.   Not too much, though.  She had a no-nonsense reputation to uphold, after all.

“I bet.” She finally said at length, realizing she had lapsed in the conservation.

“But then Freckles woke up, and you guys came!” Caboose began excitedly, hopefully even, “Now I have new best friends and I’m not alone or sad anymore!”

“Th—that’s great, kiddo.” Four Seven Niner could kick herself for her voice trembling as it did when she tried to get out of her sympathetic reflection.

Caboose was smiling appreciatively once more, blue eyes gleaming as he remarked: “You’re a really nice lady.”

The pilot had to hold back a scoff as she had a feeling there were a lot of people who would argue that notion with him.

Caboose, however, did not seem to notice as he continuously nodded his head enthusiastically along with his assessment of her character.  “You remind me a little of my sisters.  They were tall and nice too!” The mech pilot informed her.

Four Seven Niner wasn’t sure how to react to his comment.  A part of her wanted to sarcastically quip about how that was probably because she was Arenian too.  But, another part of her, one she wasn’t as accustomed to, wanted to hold back and not be too harsh towards the young man.

“I know!” Caboose said happily, an idea striking him just then, “You can be my new big sister!  Just like how Church is my new best friend!”

The pilot found that she didn’t have the heart to say otherwise just then, instead offering Caboose a shaky smile as she told him, “Why don’t you go find the others and tell them we’re now on our way?”

“Okay!” Caboose nodded his blond head vigorously as he stood up, headlining towards the rest of the ship, “Oh, I hope I find Church first!”

Four Seven Niner waited until the door to the cockpit closed behind her before letting out a lengthy sigh.  She shook her head, muttering, “I’m definitely going to need a stiff drink when this is done.”

*****

“So, you already found your first three mechs and pilots?” Tex whistled appreciatively from where she was cleaning her gun, “That’s actually surprisingly impressive, Church.”

The other Veroni couldn’t help but roll his eyes slightly, tapping his gauntleted fingers against the surface of the table he was sitting at as he watched Tex through the comm-channel.  She always had to be doing something, even when in the middle of a conversation.  It was goddamn frustrating how efficient at multitasking the mech pilot was.

“More like a huge fucking coincidence given how two of them were at the same place.” Leonard Church muttered, shaking his head.

“Hey, I was trying to give you a compliment.  But, if you don’t want it…” the blonde shrugged her shoulders indifferently as she trailed off.

Church sighed, knowing he should just take it given how rare an occurrence this was in their dynamic.  The topic of the three pilots, however, had settled on his mind and he couldn’t let it go just then, “But with how these three are?  And how we haven’t even met the pilot that Wash secured yet…”

Tex looked up then at the statement he left hanging in the air on purpose, dark eyes flickering in amusement along with the familiar upward tilt of her mouth, “It just means things are getting more interesting for you.” She joked.

Leave it to Tex to see the bright side towards any of the things he labeled as annoying.  Or maybe she was just being a bitch to piss him off even more.  Church couldn’t help but smirk back at the thought.

“We’re on route to the last mech signal now anyways.  We should get there just a little bit after Wash’s team.” The dark-haired man continued, deciding it best not to get too flirty in case someone walked in on the two of them just then.

…Poor Washington hadn’t been able to look either of them in the eye for a while following the one time he had inadvertently interrupted a communication between Church and Tex that had gotten quite a bit steamier than just what he dubbed a “casual conversation.”

“About that.” Tex became serious a second later, a skill of hers that still surprised Church since she could do so seemingly at the drop of a hat, “That’s the space station locale, right?  Sangheili?”

“Yeah.” Church’s curiosity was piqued by her sudden change in demeanor, “What about it?”

“Sheila got some intel a while ago that the mech there may have already gotten Charon’s attention.” She frowned slightly, “I know Carolina might not like it, but do you think you might want back up for this one?”

He knew that Black and Tex could make it to the station in no time flat.  Church was almost tempted by the offer now that he was aware of the possibility that those Charon assholes would probably be around.  But, Tex was right in that his sister would have a very different opinion on the matter given how infuriatingly stubborn she could be at times, especially when it came to the assistance of his on-again-off-again girlfriend.

The Veroni sighed, shaking his head, “Thanks for the offer, Tex, but with all of us meeting up with Wash’s unit we should have things covered.”

“Suit yourself.” Tex shrugged as if it was no skin off of her back either way.

Something about what she said earlier came flickering back to the forefront of Church’s mind though, and he paused, mulling it over for a second before asking, “Wait.  Who the fuck is Sheila?”

However, before Tex could respond to his inquiry, the door opened and a bouncing Caboose practically leapt into the room.

“Church!” Caboose exclaimed, wrapping his arms around his ‘bestest new friend’ in a suffocating hug, “The pilot lady who is now my sister said to tell everyone we are on our way!”

Tex’s look turned back to one of mild amusement as she watched Church struggling to breathe within Caboose’s grasp from the safety of the comm-channel, “Aww.  It must be nice to be so popular.”

“Shut…up.” Church managed to choke out at the blonde.  But, much to his chagrin, the accompanying raised middle finger he gave her only caused Tex’s sadistic smirk to widen.

*****

Washington’s group was already at Sangheili, the space station located on the outskirts of the known galaxy.  As per Carolina’s instructions, they were lying low and in wait for her group to arrive.

However, that didn’t stop Washington from deciding to go into the space station proper as soon as they had docked in order to gather usable intel for their mission.  Truthfully, Richard “Dick” Simmons expected nothing less from his mentor while the rest of the group waited in the transport.

After all, the redhead knew that, as a result of the intelligence Wash was gathering, they would be better prepared for when the other group arrived.  Then they would be ready to finally make their move.

There was only one more mech left now!  Simmons could hardly contain the bundle of nervous energy that was filtering through him just then at the thought while the lieutenants and Kaikaina had settled down in the common room of the transport to wait for Wash to come back.

The yellow-wearing girl was regaling the rookies with a tale of her youth back in Rat’s Nest.  Andersmith, Jensen, and Matthews were listening raptly while Bitters only seemed partially interested in the hard-to-believe story that Kaikaina was spinning.

The last thing that he heard from the group before the doors to the common room closed was laughter and a “You have got to meet my friend, Volleyball!” from Jensen.

He couldn’t help but smile at the memory, glad that Kaikaina seemed to be getting along with everyone on the ship.  Beyond Wash’s exasperation with her continued insistence that he was some sort of ‘space cop,’ that is.

Grif seemed to be getting along with everyone too, now that he was more up and about.  Oddly enough, young Matthews in particular seemed to take a real shine to him in a way that almost reminded Simmons of a Strassian mentorship dynamic, much to the orange-wearing man’s chagrin.

Currently, Simmons and Grif were in the hangar area of the transport, simply staring at Maroon and Orange in awe.  All necessary repairs to the mechs after the skirmish at Rat’s Nest had been taken care of, so they were ready and waiting here on this stretch of their mission should the need for combat arise.  Of course, Simmons personally hoped it didn’t for a variety of reasons.

Honestly, it still seemed unreal to Simmons how things had turned out, and it looked as though now he was not the only one who felt so.

“Man, the last couple of days have been something else, huh?” Grif asked him conversationally, glancing in the Strassian’s direction to gauge his reaction.

Simmons could only murmur in agreement, “Tell me about it.”

They had essentially been running full throttle since the escape from Rat’s Nest to reach Sangheili.  Actually, now that he thought about it, the reprieve waiting for Church and Carolina’s group gave them was the first chance Simmons had to really think about things in a long while.  For some reason, he hadn’t done much thinking while waiting nervously for Grif to wake up.

“I still can’t believe that we’re both pilots,” the human was saying, thankfully looking over at Orange so he was unaware of how Simmons’ face had just heated up then, “And that we’re technically on our first mission.”

“I—I know.” Simmons nodded his head enthusiastically, “I’ve been one a bit longer than you have and I still find it hard to believe.”

Grif grinned over at the redhead, “We totally don’t look the part.”

“Y—you think so?” Simmons frowned in contemplation, glancing down at his maroon armor.

What the chubbier man said was true, when he thought about it.  If asked to think of traditional mech pilots, the first people that would naturally come to mind would be people like Tex or Washington who screamed “soldier” to their very cores.  Definitely not a lanky, socially awkward nerd like him or an apathetic fat-ass like Grif.

“Eh.” Grif shrugged, “It will put us at a tactical advantage or something.”

“Yeah.” Simmons couldn’t help but smile, glad for the new perspective.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of them for a few moments after that, and Simmons found the dynamic oddly pleasant given what they might be walking into in a few hours.

The silence was broken when Grif, patting Orange’s massive leg, sighed, “Though I kind of wish we were heading to Chorus already.”

That figured.  One thing that Simmons had so far learned about the tan skinned human in the short time that they had been together was that he was a lazy fuck.

Simmons rolled his eyes, “You would.” He muttered under his breath.

“Hey!  I haven’t had the chance to settle into my new home yet.” Grif countered, smirking, “Plus, rest between battles is important.”

Technically, Simmons knew that there was logic to what Grif was saying.  But, it felt wrong knowing that the tan skinned man was throwing it out there just to try to avoid work.

“There will be plenty of time for rest when this mission is done with, fat-ass.” The Strassian countered instead, regarding the human curiously, “Besides, aren’t you the least bit curious about what the other pilots we’ll be meeting soon will be like?”

Grif shrugged disinterestedly at Simmons’ question, not looking the redhead directly in the eye, “I bet they won’t be nearly as interesting to me as you are.”

Overhearing that comment, Simmons’ face heated up once more as he stared at Grif incredulously.  His brain was so busy trying to process if it had been meant as an insult or not that Grif coughed awkwardly.

“S—so, tell me…” he began, “How did you end up on Chorus in the first place?”  The chubbier man was looking at him expectantly as Simmons gaped at him in surprise.

“Me?” The pale man couldn’t help asking.  He had to have misheard him.  After all, who would waste time wanting to know about Simmons of all people?

Grif raised an eyebrow, clearly amused, “Yeah, you.” He stated emphatically, “What was life like for you before you became a pilot?”

For a brief second, Simmons almost wanted to tell him it was none of his business, but Grif must have sensed that was coming because he added, “You already know a bit about my past.  So, come on.  Fair is fair.”

Simmons swallowed nervously, his mouth suddenly dry as he opened it to respond…

He couldn’t move, couldn’t speak.  Everything was blurry and it was a struggle to remain sitting upright on the floor.  He was unable to get his limbs to even move properly anymore.

“It’s better this way for everyone involved.  At least, as a breeder, he’ll hopefully have some worth.”

The sudden paleness of his features must have caught Grif’s attention just then because his smirk transformed into a look of growing concern at Simmons’ inability to talk.  Brown eyes lit up apologetically as Grif began to speak, “Hey, listen—!“

He was cut off, however, by the hangar door suddenly opening nearby as a harried-looking Washington strode into the space.  “Grif.  Simmons.” The blond stated in way of greeting, “Things have changed.  We need to get moving.  Now.”

Simmons blinked, rather relieved for the interruption as he and Grif looked at one another questioningly before turning back to the Freelancer.

“What—what’s happened, sir?” Simmons asked.

Wash sighed, gray eyes looking deadly serious, “Not only has the mech been activated, but it’s already bonded to a pilot.” He informed them, “Charon has them both now.”

*****

Currently being held against his will in a security cell on his home space station of Sangheili by Charon cockbites, Lavernius Tucker was pretty sure that this was the worst day of his life.

To think that things had started out pretty fucking great too!  His work had gone off without a hitch earlier, and he had just been on his way back to pick up Junior from Doc’s place when…  The dark skinned man sighed in his reminiscence of the day’s events, glancing at the two heavily armed assholes who were right now regarding him as though he were dirt underneath their boots.

Well, let’s just say that shit hit the fan pretty spectacularly when his natural curiosity about the giant mech that everyone had been talking about for the last few days had gotten the better of him.  Tucker was pretty certain that his saying the whole “cockpit opening when he got too close was an accident thing” wasn’t going to fly with these dickwads.  Again.

Tucker struggled against the bonds that were keeping his hands tied to the chair he had been forced to sit on at gunpoint earlier, but to no avail.  The human in steel and orange armor who called himself Felix looked at him in obvious annoyance.

“Unbelievable.  Un-fucking-believable.” Felix muttered under his breath, shaking his head, “Not only did we get assigned boring-as-fuck transport duty, but the goddamned mech had to go and choose some no-name half breed as its pilot.”

“Hey, way to be an asshole!” Tucker called out to the scrawny human indignantly.

“What was that again?” The other asshole, some angry dude with a shark-painted helmet who was aptly named Sharkface (seriously, real original there!) asked over Tucker.  The big guy was regarding Felix with barely contained hostility.

“Oh, right.  Forgot you have some Arenian in you.” Felix commented disinterestedly, shrugging his shoulders, “Sorry.”

“I doubt it, but I’ll let it slide while we wait for Locus.” The other man growled out, “Though this certainly isn’t the way I’d pictured this day playing out.”

Tucker once again pulled at his bonds, “It’s not exactly how I’d planned on it turning out either, dickwads!”

To his further aggravation, both men ignored him to regard one another menacingly.  If Tucker’s hands were free, he would have given them both the finger for good measure.  But, since they were both armed and he wasn’t, it might be a good thing that he was at least a little tempered in how much he could provoke them in his current situation.

“So, what do we do now?” Sharkface asked Felix, motioning towards Tucker with a tilt of his head, “Kill him?”

“Hey!  Let’s not be too hasty, all right?” Tucker couldn’t help but joke fearfully.

Felix sighed and shook his head, “Tempting as that is, doing so now would only make things a bigger headache in the long run.” He was talking as though from personal experience and Tucker wasn’t really sure if he ever wanted to know what that experience was, “Best to at least bring him back to base alive.”

Felix turned towards Tucker then, a sadistic glimmer in his eyes as his hand reached for the combat knife at his side, “But that doesn’t mean we can’t have a little fun first.”

Whatever sarcastic comment Tucker had been about to say about how Felix’s idea of ‘fun’ clearly didn’t mesh with his own died in his throat as he fearfully regarded the metallic, serrated edge slowly inching towards his face…

When, suddenly, smoke filled the room only to be accompanied quickly by the sound of gunfire.

“What in the—!“ Felix was cut off by a figure in steel and yellow shoving past him, their own knife slicing through the air as Tucker could suddenly move again…

Tucker didn’t really have time to dwell on his new predicament though as the unknown blond grabbed his arm and pulled.  His rescuer was dragging him along by the elbow through the one door that served as both an entrance and exit to the cell, then down towards a side-corridor in the hallway beyond.

There, two others in maroon and orange armor respectfully were laying down cover fire to keep the two Charon soldiers from following them.  For a few seconds, that seemed to do the trick.  At least until a door opened and more Charon assholes were making their way over to the side-corridor.

A door opened with more soldiers pouring through between Tucker and his rescuer and the two aiding them in maroon and orange, effectively cutting off the pair’s escape route.

“Damn!” The man that had untied Tucker swore, motioning towards the two others, “Get back to the ship!”

The pair nodded, obviously knowing that they would have to find a new way back to wherever it was they were escaping to.  They disappeared from view a moment later.

The blond-haired man pulled on Tucker more insistently then, and Tucker allowed himself to be dragged to the relative safety of an empty corridor before pulling out of the man’s grip.  As the obviously full-blooded Strassian turned to look at him questioningly with gray eyes, Tucker tried to think of what it was exactly that he wanted to say.

It wasn’t that he wasn’t grateful for the timely save.  Far from it, actually.  However, memories of an Elvari friend clad in purple and a smiling little boy dressed in matching teal clothes to his own filled his head.

“I can’t leave.  Not yet!” Tucker suddenly blurted out to the stranger who had helped save him, nearly panicking, “I have to get my son first!”