Iron-Blooded Warriors 5

[+BEGINNING TRANSMISSION+]

Space was cold. Not by virtue of any absorption of heat, in a terrestrial sense, but from the perspective of such indifference. Oh certainly, water would freeze in space, but that was as far from the feeling McGillis Fareed felt when he gazed out at the uncaring stars. Did even Father Sol think of its wayward spawn? Few fathers did, so it would surprise him none if that was the natural state of the cosmos: indifference.

Goodness, that black expanse could stir up the strangest introspection when you really thought about it. McGillis sighed and leaned a little further back into his command seat. The action did not go unseen; a stray glance from his... friend, Gaelio, told him he noticed.

"Just another day," Gaelio said errantly, likely hoping to prop up spirits amid the boredom, "Smooth as the journey has been, we should be busing ourselves soon enough."

"Very true," McGillis replied more as a formality than anything, "a likewise smooth inspection, and back to Earth with us..."

McGillis trailed off, leaning forwards: a helmsman was tensing up, there was information coming through that wasn't just another ping back from an Ariadne buoy. "Inspector," called the Helmsman, looking over his shoulder, "We've just received a general distress signal from Mars High Command. They're under attack from an unidentified Space Vessel."

Well. That certainly shook things up, and not in a good way.

"Any additional information?" McGillis asked, leaning forwards. The Helmsman began sending a reply down the Ariadne to Mars Command; with any luck, in a half minute there would be a reply. The wait was tense, on edge. The reply came in, a full video packet, compressed to hell and back.

"Video and telemetry reconstruction underway. Coming onscreen now:" the Helmsman called. Seconds later, McGillis was watching a single large triangle approach a formation of circles; a Space Vessel, super-massive. It was on par with some Super-carriers or space stations, though they could certainly get larger. Something that size couldn't be constructed in secret, it required too many materials. Where had this thing come from?

It disgorged a smaller triangle, a Space ship, and a swarm of circles, many times what the Martian defenders had sortied. They formed a defensive net first, before probing outwards with a small squadron of mobile suits. Their defensive focus betrayed a need to protect this larger ship beyond mere tactical good sense... Where were its pickets? McGillis sneered, watching the battle. Amateur mobile suit pilots were laced into patterns of three by the invaders, and chewed up. The unknowns had veterans with good training, that was obvious quickly, but they weren't using a technique mobile suits used. Not often, atleast.

The rest of the battle didn't offer much information; it took a few moments before video provided better context, that the mobile suits were fighting glorified jet planes in space, but they seemed to move fluidly enough to have proper thrusters mounted appropriately. A few seemed to pivot their engines in the housings to change bearing quickly, while one simply spun itself like a furious brick, lining up shots and puking missiles ad nauseam. Well, that would explain their tactics... if their 'Space fighters' were designed for atmospheric combat, they might require some cross-pollenization in tactics to stay versatile.

"That's... new," managed Gaelio, understating what they were looking at.

"It certainly is," McGillis began, "I don't think I've ev-" he cut himself off as the carrier that had released the fighters earlier moved into combat range. His brow furrowed, the most he'd allow himself to express outwardly of his confusion. When the craft fired a cannon under its nose at the Skybridge, crippling it, McGillis understood exactly what he was facing; "Damn it. They're raiders."

[+INCOMING TRANSMISSION+]

"How can you tell?" asked Chief Engineer Tauley, looking over the recent maintenance reports. They seemed mostly in order, but if the last Void-Ship accident was any proof, the strangest problems could sneak up on you.

"We're over-revving," explained the junior, "she'll pitch up right before a vector change. Has to be the computer."

"Wear and tear?" He asked, closing the tablet and passing it back, "I suppose we should put the breaks on it a little... not sure we can afford to stop and tune the vector thrusters. Timing issues like this don't usually fix easy."

The junior nodded, satisfied. Chief Tauley made for the horn, a small phone box near the entrance to Engineering, swapping it to bridge;

"Chief Engineer Tauley..." he called, waiting for a confirmation on the otherend. One of the junior ensigns replied affitmitive, asking for his report: "We have a mis-calibration in the thrusters, its putting extra stress on the Ahab. We need to avoid course corrections if at all possible."

"Understood. I'll inform the captain. Bridge out."

That went smoothly. Chief Tauley smiled, turning back to his crew and his job. Hopefully the captain would be pleased with this early find, before it became a problem.

[+INCOMING TRANSMISSION+]

"What do you mean, exactly?" Asked Gaelio, looking over the footage as one of the juniors answered a call, "They're a rogue faction? Mars is a good target but..."

He trailed off. There was a lot to parse, and encountering such an alien force flew in the face of any organization's that Gjallerhorn knew of presently.

"... I just can't see why they would attack, except for half metal, or maybe food supplies?"

McGillis sighed, eyes fixated on the screen, keeping his thoughts to himself. Whoever these people were, they had made a mistake attacking Mars and Gjallerhorn. He would see to that himself.

"It can't be half metal," McGillis shared, taking in all the information, "There's no Ahab disruptions. They're ghosts. Half metal alloys horribly, there's no reason they would even need it if not for..."

Now, there was an idea... "if not for, perhaps, their weaponry. That still doesn't explain how they're moving through space. Without an Ahab reactor, space travel over any real distance is inordinately difficult. There is something very wrong here."

The conversation hung, some additional footage being viewed, before the entire thing closed out. Gaelio had seen enough, as had McGillis. There was no reason to watch Gjallerhorn knights get delt a bloody nose over and over again, atleast not without additional information.

It would be another three hours before contact came from Mars again. Gaelio and a few others had excused themselves for a meal while McGillis sat, idle and apprehensive upon the bridge. Another data packet. This time, he opened it himself, rising to stand behind the comm's console and unpacking the video while the ensign in question was out. This time, it was terrestrial footage, and it was not what he wanted to see. No, it was exactly what the aspiring leader /needed/ to see. It was inelegant, utilitarian, and seethed with power.

It was to a mobile suit, what a dog was to him. And it was beautiful.