New Dawn

When the door opened, Erik stood. Then Lieutenant Foster walked through, escorted by the MP. At least now I know they weren't just here for me, he thought. He watched the lieutenant walk in his direction and offered him a salute. He had heard of the man, but had never met him before. Foster had a reputation as a good leader and a war hero for previous actions that were before Erik's time. When Foster took a seat, Erik did also.

"Any idea what the hell is going on?"

"Apparently someone forgot to give you the brief," Erik said, sliding the folder across. "Scoop-up, apparently. Crashed TalonVs with survivors that need picking up. But now that you're here, I'm beginning to think there's more to it, sir."

He grasped the sliding folder and looked it over,

"Scoop-up, apparently. Crashed TalonVs with survivors that need picking up. But now that you're here, I'm beginning to think there's more to it, sir."

he looked up from the folder, "I think you've got a good eye soldier, this is definately not some normal pick up, especially with guys this far outside of human territory. I'm thinking that we're gonna need some more help."

His scar was hurting a bit and he touched it as though he was trying to brush aside the pain. This definately was not going to be a good day for him, every time his scar hurted something bad was going to happen, 9 out of 10 times something bad did happen.

"I think you've got a good eye soldier, this is
definately not some normal pick up, especially with guys this far
outside of human territory. I'm thinking that we're gonna need some
more help."

Erik nodded slowly. Now he understood his C.O.'s uppity tone about him being successful on this mission.

"Well, if things go right, hopefully that help won't be sorely needed."

The lieutenant touched a scar that reached from the bridge of his nose to beneath his eye. He winced a tiny bit and looked to be concerned. If this man's reputation was what he heard, this seemed a bit unsettling.

"Everything OK, sir?"

He looked up, "Its nothing, just old war wounds acting up is all."

Vincent hadn't shined his armor in months... not much need for such ridiculous formalities on the Outer ring. The men worked slave shifts, 16 hour patrols with 8 hours downtime, that downtime was usually spent corresponding with a loved one, eating, hygeine, laundry, weapon maintenence, and most importantly, sleeping. No soldier worth his salt wasted time shining their armor, that was a luxury afforded to those who didn't work for a living.

"MSG Akira, Vincent." he said to the MP who'd asked his name and rank upon his arrival outside the Ministry of Defense building. He handed him his paperwork.

"You're late, Sgt." The MP said after verifying his documentation.

"Long ride." Vincent responded.

"Follow me."

Vincent grumbled, admiring his image in the reflection of the backplate of the MP's armor, unlike Vincent's, it was in pristine condition. No scratches or deep ruts, dents or dings, no obvious signs of any sort of combat. He wondered how long the "soldier" would last out on The Ring.

"Wait in here, Lord North and Oliver Ward will meet with you men shortly." He disappeared before Vincent remembered to ask what any of this was about.

He walked over two the two men in the room, realizing one of them was an officer, he offered a sloppy salute and then rudely dropped it before it could be returned. He then nodded to the other man before sitting on the table, facing the door and folding his arms.

"Vincent Akira" he said in introduction. "Anyone know why we're here?"

The mirror was like an open book it told no lies. The face before it was rough with a new growth of hair and was prominently bruised. Some of the bruises were old and a discoloured brown colour, the fresher bruises were purplish. For a doctor Mirocye Blake could have passed as on of his patients. Mirocye’s arms were an array of artwork tattoos of silver, grey flames spiralled down them intricate. Months of hard work had gone into them. On his back two large silver wings were tattooed reaching across each shoulder blade. These were mementos of the days he had been called a soldier. Those days were no more.

Mirocye had faded back into the everyday, a local GP with a small surgery. His heart lay with those of his own kind. Burnt out soldiers with hope and dreams destroyed by what they’d seen and sometimes what they had done. These men and women seldom had any money. Mirocye gave free treatment but the money had to come from somewhere. That’s where Mirocye’s past came back into play. His training combat orientated their was no better fighter then an army man. In the black market of bets on human flesh he faired well. Mirocye had beaten many a man senseless, but never killed any.

Sliding his shirt over his shoulders Mirocye slid his army fatigue bike jacket on and took his keys from the hook they hung on then stepped outside.
“Morning Mrs Fedella,” Mirocye called out as he spotted her stepping out of her own door three children in tow.
“What have you been doing to yourself Blake,” she asked with a shake of her head.
Mirocye touched his bruised face and gave a grin, “You know how it goes with us boys and the drink.”

“You need to be more careful, you GP‘s are a dying breed.” Mirocye gave a melodious laugh and locked his door heading towards the street below. Outside a man stood by Mirocye’s motorcycle his piggy eyes staring at Mirocye and envelope in hand. Mirocye held his breath in nervous anticipation, wondering if someone had squealed to the law about the underground fights. However this man looked military, with out a word the envelope was handed to him and the man walked away. Mirocye stared at his back a while and frowned. A meeting, a briefing, the ministry of defence what was all this about. He shook his head and climbed on his bike. There’d be time to find out.

When Mirocye reached the building where the ministry of defence was housed he was lead in and pointed in the direction of where he needed to be. There were already two gentlemen present in the room, he eyed each of them trying to decide where best they fit with the military then shrugged, what did it matter to him. Mirocye’s own military days were over. He took a seat and stared vacantly at the desk perhaps he should have called the surgery and let them know he’d be running late.

Another man entered the room, immediately Tim recognized him as msgt Vincent Akira, his armor had seen better days. Lined with cuts, ruts, and, dare he say it, chasms. This man though, the way he looked, his face, armor, and body, this man was a war veteran. He gave a sloppy salute, which made Tim question the man a bit, before he could return it, he quickly spoke up.

"Vincent Akira" he said in introduction. "Anyone know why we're here?"

"Tim Foster, so far all we know is this," he slid the same packet he was given over to the srgt, "its a rescue mission to retrieve some survivers of a TalonV fighter crash, but me and him think this is something much more."

His scar was also telling him the same sad story.

"Vincent Akira" he said in introduction. "Anyone know why we're here?"

"Tim Foster, so far all we know is this," he slid the same packet he was given over to the srgt, "its a rescue mission to retrieve some survivors of a TalonV fighter crash, but me and him think this is something much more."

Mirocye listened their were three men he noted to himself. He listened as Vincent introduced himself. Then another soldier who seemed to know more then Vincent or he did explained. Mirocye was hardly interested in what the mission was about. Avoidance was the key. His curiosity had gotten the better of him but that didn’t mean he couldn’t decline now and go back to his dingy part of the city.

Lin rose up from laying on his back and staring at the cave's ceiling. Uneven and jagged, the sight was about the worst Lin could behold, so he focused on it often. After amusing himself with a joke or two about V, he realized that Zefie was right. They should all eat something. He didn't know their normal eating habits, but he was generally a light eater. He looked over at Jack.

"Hey, man, toss me some food... whatever you got over there."

Jack threw a condensed energy bar in Lin's direction. The things were usually low in flavor, but that made the smallest bit of difference as the group hadn't eaten since before they visited Roy O. He frowned a bit at the idea of the taste of the bar, then convinced himself that it was probably better tasting than a rat he would catch or something.

"Yea, that's what I'm talkin' bout. I can make one of these last for like a week."

That was because he would only eat as much as he needed for sustenance. He looked at V, she looked miserable. He looked down at the ground a moment before a smirk crept up and he went to her.

"Hey, sweetness, can I interest you in some chocolate?"

He caught himself and changed his tone fairly quick. With a roll of his eyes, he made her a better offer.

"Or maybe you'd like some of my energy bar."

Before he had a chance to say anymore about the scar, another man entered the room. He didn't even have to introduce himself, Erik already knew who he was. The Animal, they called him. If the lieutenant was a war hero, the master sergeant was a fallen hero. Called into action when the situation was dire, loosed liked a starved wolf onto a deer. On one level, he was admirable. On another, he was completely insane.

"Vincent Akira" he said in introduction. "Anyone know why we're here?"

Erik almost spoke up, but another man entered the room. He looked older than the rest, worn even. He didn't even say anything, just simply sat and stared.

Erik saluted the Master Sergeant after the lieutenant explained what was going on.

"Well," he said. "I guess this all but confirms it. More than a rescue mission, obviously. And the crew is here. The brief stipulated a four-man team."

"Hey, sweetness, can I interest you in some chocolate?"

V drifted back from her half-consciousness at the sound of a voice. She opened her eyes with an effort and looked up from where she lay cuddled with the others to see the ponytailed form of Lin.

"Or maybe you'd like some of my energy bar."

Her gaze fell to the bar in his hand and her stomach cramped at the thought of solid food. By this point the idea created nausea, not hunger. She knew that what she really needed was to drink fluids and ease into eating slowly until her stomach adapted to food again.

Her eyes moved back up to his face once more.

"That's okay," V said softly, each word a weary effort forced from a dry throat, "I'm okay."

She said she was okay, but the weakness in her voice told another story that he believed to be more accurate. He could see the exhaustion on her face, and she needed to get back to herself. She was the heart and soul of the group, and without her, many would go mad. He gave her a smile and tried a slightly stronger approach.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, babe, but you haven't been lookin' so good lately. I miss V with the cushion, it made me forget we were stuck in this cave. Won't you reconsider eating this energy bar?"

He nearly wanted to gag as he said the word energy bar. The ghastly piece of edible crap has on occasion been the opposite of what its name suggests. But her eyes was fixed on him, so he had to keep a straight face and convince her that the bar was worth eating.

Vishka sat apart from the group, still not a welcome member of the group in most of their minds. They wouldn't say it to him, but he didn't have to read their minds to figure it out. It was written on their faces when they looked at him. If his actions in Sanctuary had earned a little of their respect, they had done nothing to earn their trust. Not yet.

At least he could empathize a little with their plight. Humans were frail creatures. Their bodies could not go long without food or warmth. While Vishka felt neither cold nor hunger beneath his heavy armor, he knew his air tanks would eventually run out. He also knew he would have to deal with the humans that found them, if it was humans that found them. Vishka was constantly aware of the presence of his own people. Not in the immediate area, but too close for his own comfort. He was shocked they hadn't been found yet. The humans were in no condition for a fight. They were barely in a condition to walk.

Dre's condition was what killed Vishka the most. While he may not have been as bad as the one called V, Dre was Vishka's only friend. He was the only one that had never judged Vishka. He didn't know what it was, but he felt a kinship with the young human. Something made them not so different from one another.

Suddenly something pricked at the back of Vishka's mind. Emotions...strong ones. Something he had not felt since they had escaped from Sanctuary. Malice. Kill kill kill... Vishka got to his feet and looked towards the entrance of the cave where the human called Zefie was keeping watch. She was keen, but her senses could never have matched his. Vishka looked back to the group huddled on the ground and noticed that Dre too was watching the entrance to the cave. He sensed it too.

Vishka brought his rifle to bear. "Something comes," he announced awkwardly in the human tongue. "Something that wishes hurt to us."

"Something comes," he announced awkwardly in the human tongue. "Something that wishes hurt to us."

Jess looked up. It was the strange dragoon. She frowned and stopped picking her boot. The sight of him filled the cave. He loomed above, huge and menacing. Her hand twitched towards the MN-800. Although she knew he could have killed them and taken the disk if he wanted, she did not trust him. Just as he had seemed to change to their side, he could easily change back again. Then the meaning of his words sunk in. They were going to be attacked.

Using the cave wall, she pushed herself to her feet and managed to stand. The movement was too sudden. The world spun, until the cave was filled with a horde of invading dragoons. Her legs shook. Leaning against the wall, she frowned and waited for the double vision to pass and her mind to focus.

Focus. That was what the captain had always said. Breathe. The sharp rocks had cut her palms, and she stared at the bare skin. Empty. It puzzled her for a moment. Something was missing. Her eyes focused on a further point. The rifle was still lying on the floor. If this was a drill, she would have been in big trouble. This was not a drill. This was reality. It was worse. She crouched, holding onto the wall with one hand, almost fell, but managed to hook her trembling fingers into the rifle strap and lift it.

Once she was sure she was steady, she inched forward and peered around the rock ledge she was concealed behind. There was nothing that she could see. Others were taking up positions around the cave. She retreated into the cover and looked at Jack. He was the unspoken leader.

"Something comes," he announced awkwardly in the human tongue. "Something that wishes hurt to us."

V felt Dre's movement, felt the warm bodies around her move away as they took up defensive positions.

"Have to...catch ya later...Lin." She gasped as she searched for her carbine.

It wasn't far away and as her hand closed on it the broken ribs screamed like harpies, making her sorry to move at all. She forced her body to move, curling up and straightening as she half-crawled, half-scooted to the rough overhang at the back of the cave. It was too low to stand properly here anyway but the proximity of all the rock would at least make things difficult for an invading enemy.

It occurred to her that she shouldn't bother. A clinical assessment offered by some part of her brain said that she was both freezing and starving to death, had hurts that would not heal under these conditions, and perhaps lying out in full view to take a bullet would be a mercy for she and the group.

She mentally told the voice to go straight to hell.

It took forever but V managed to drag herself into a low crack in the stone. It was claustrophobic but a shooter would have to be very good or very lucky to get a bullet into such a low narrow space.

V very slowly, with many stops for rest, checked the carbine for ammunition and tried not to think about ricochets.

After all, that same voice came back, whispering that attackers could just gas everyone and you then ricochets wouldn't be a problem.

V snarled, clutching the carbine, and lay on her back in the small space, her head turned to watch out into the cave.

Waves of weariness still beat at her and breathing hurt worse after her labors but she wouldn't sleep. And, dammit, she refused to freeze.

Whoever came after her would get one of ten remaining bullets, even if she had to take them down by shooting their knees first from this level.

A tear streamed from Jack's eyes and fell to the floor, his face remaining a cold mask. He heard the voices, filled with desperation, and quiet from doing without. But Varenna's voice...small and frail in the confines of the cave...that was what killed him. He had done this to her. It was because of him she was starving and shivering in the cold.

Before this, he had hope that maybe they could be there for each other...depend on one another. He had almost thought he loved her. Now, all he felt was unworthiness. If they survived, it was too much to hope that she could learn to love him again after this.

He heard the suggestion that food be passed around. The thought was logged away, and took a few momnets to enter Jack's consciousness again.

Then Vishka spoke.

"Something comes," he announced awkwardly in the human tongue. "Something that wishes hurt to us."

Jack hefted himself up and stood, his hands going to the pistols that had become part of his body. He had found a bit of fresh ammo in the ships, and he checked the clips he knew were full.

He crossed to one of the rocky cave outcroppings that offered a bit of shelter. He could see Jess nearby, and with a pang noticed her thinness as well. And she had been thin before they had found themselves here. She shot him a questioning glance, and he motinoed for her to wait. Jack's eyes then went to the cave mouth, riveted to it as he waited for any sign of movement.

Joshua had nearly hurled himself at Zefie’s jacket, and although it was far to small, it also was yet another layer between him and the icy air. Next, he grabbed one of the food packages Teele had brought in. He had eaten half the energy bar before he realised he was doing it again; being an ungrateful leech. He sighed, then shot both Jack and Zefie a grateful glance which they most likely didn’t even saw. But it was the best he could manage at this time.

Suddenly, Vishka alerted them that something was on the way, something with hostile intentions. In his current state, he was reluctant to believe the Dragoon. He had a lot to be grateful of; without Vishka’s interference, Joshua would have bled out before they even made it to the TalonV’s. But still, the promise of people made him hopeful.

The others, however, didn’t seem to feel like that. Jessica had already shouldered her rifle and Jack was checking his magazines. Joshua looked around, slightly panicked. “Maybe they’re people. Maybe they’ve finally found us!” His voice was foolishly hopeful, but in the week they had spend in the cave, he had never given up on the chance that they were found. The hope was also clear in his eyes as he looked at his fellow survivors. “Maybe they’ve finally found us,” he repeated.

Jack glanced at Josh as he voiced a possibility. He almsot dared to hope it would be so. But he had learned that Vishka's instincts were almsot always right. And if Vishka sensed trouble, that'd just be what they'd get.

Josh repeated his statement. It was becoming a common practice of his. Whether out of delirium or desperation or the simple thought that he wasn't heard, Jack couldn't tell.

"Hope so, Josh. But if not, I don't want 'em getting the jump on us."

"Something comes. Something that wishes to hurt us."

Zefie shot a glance back at Vishka as his low, inhuman voice filled the cave, then immediately scrambled to her feet, rifle clutched tightly in her hands. She had never thought she would put her life and those of her friends in the hands of one of Them, but since the breach of Sanctuary she had tentatively begun to trust the strange Dragoon. If that trust was tempered by a wary caution, well that's what came of having your lungs almost incinerated by said Dragoon.

Now, she stared hard out at the bleak white scenery outside the cave, looking for anything or anyone, even a shadow. But there was nothing. Still, with Vishka's warning ringing in her ears the air seemed to press more heavily on her, goosebumps that had nothing to do with the freezing temperature raised on her skin.


"Maybe they're people, maybe they've finally found us!" Josh's voice was full of optimistic, eager to cling to any hope no matter how slight. "Maybe they've finally found us ..."

Zefie shook her head. "Wouldn't count on it."

She glanced back over her shoulder at Vishka. "Can you tell what it is?"

Lin watched as V retrieved her carbine, he realized she had fight left in her yet. Couldn't say it was a good thing to see, because if the lizard was right, and the forces outside truly wished harm on Lin and his peers, it shouldn't be too difficult. Lin contemplated what kind of enemies would show its face, but the fact still remained that they had no idea where they were.

Josh repeated himself as if the rest of the group missed his happy-go-lucky speech pattern the first time. They just didn't believe what he was saying. Zefie finally put those thoughts out there on behalf of everybody after Jack tried it his way. Lin didn't dig Vishka any more than the others, especially Dre who seemed to be the thing's owner, but the Dragoon has yet to be wrong. He was just happy he was already standing up, otherwise he might entertain thoughts of letting harm come his way.

He reached for his bag of explosives and his .45, inspecting it to assure himself he was ready for a fight. The AK-47 was next, he strapped it over his shoulder. With his free hand he took a bite of the energy bar. It tasted horrible, as he figured, but it served its purpose in upsetting Lin enough to focus a little.

"Tim Foster, so far all we know is this," he slid the same packet he was given over to the srgt, "its a rescue mission to retrieve some survivors of a TalonV fighter crash, but me and him think this is something much more."

Tim Foster. Vincent knew he'd heard the name before but couldn't remember much about him. Judging from his scarred face, he was no doubt seen as some sort of war hero, Vincent had probably heard about him through some gossiping soldiers sharing war stories. Not much in the way of accurate information made it out to The Ring, most of the stories were just embellished rumors, tall tales loosely based on fact that soldiers would trade in efforts to escape the terrifying reality of their lives. Tales of amazing feats, undominable heroes, used to temporarily boost morale and give the men something, or someone, to believe in other than death and war.

He looked over to the other man, the bald one whose uniform bore airforce insignias and the name 'Freeman'. This name, too, sounded familiar. For all Vincent knew, he could have worked with the man before. Vincent had seen too many faces to count, let alone remember, throughout his career, besides, to him, with their flightmasks, goggles, and helmets on, all flyboys looked the same.

"Well," Freeman said. "I guess this all but confirms it. More than a rescue mission, obviously. And the crew is here. The brief stipulated a four-man team."

Vincent looked up and noticed another man had entered the room. Great. He thought to himself.


Vincent dismissed his thoughts as he flipped through the proffered packet. " rescue mission... downed TalonV... Four men." He thought aloud as a smirk slowly crept onto his face.

They wont stop until i'm dead. he thought.

"This can't be serious." He said as he reached the end of the packet. "Four men are supposed to venture far outside the Green Zone to rescue who exactly? What's so special about these survivors? Men disappear from The Ring all the time, good men, with invaluble skills, yet every last one of my requests for rescue operations have been denied... 'understaffed,' they said... 'not enough resources'... 'risks more lives than it saves'..." Vincent threw the packet back down on the table, and stood. "I've got a section to run, men who depend on me. I'm not going to throw away my life in efforts to save what are, by now, likely to be just a bunch of frozen corpses."

"This can't be serious." He said as he reached the end of the packet. "Four men are supposed to venture far outside the Green Zone to rescue who exactly? What's so special about these survivors? Men disappear from The Ring all the time, good men, with invaluble skills, yet every last one of my requests for rescue operations have been denied... 'understaffed,' they said... 'not enough resources'... 'risks more lives than it saves'..." Vincent threw the packet back down on the table, and stood. "I've got a section to run, men who depend on me. I'm not going to throw away my life in efforts to save what are, by now, likely to be just a bunch of frozen corpses."

"Pull it together man, you don't think we know that? There are some things these people aren't telling us. The things don't add up, but if they've been gone for that long, and we're still rescuing them, then there has to be some dammed good reason they're doing it."

"If I had to guess," Erik interjected. "We're more likely going after the cargo... it wouldn't be the first time."

He sat back thinking on some covert missions he'd flown. The crew would already be dead, but the cargo would need to be retrieved. The term "reduce, reuse, recycle," was more important now than it ever had been. Sometimes production lags, and scavenger crews would be sent out.

"But those usually happened under the cover of darkness," he continued. "Not to mention with a unit of soldiers. Which begs the question..." Erik trailed off and looked over at the older man that entered last. "We have two of arguably the best soldiers New Dawn has to offer, and I'm a pretty fair pilot, if I don't say so myself... so what's your story, sir?"

"We have two of arguably the best soldiers New Dawn has to offer, and I'm a pretty fair pilot, if I don't say so myself... so what's your story, sir?"
The pilots question drew away from his thoughts. He wanted to be a smart ass and say it was classified. It had been a long while ago. Most events where a man was failed by the system he stood to protect were.

“Not a lot to tell,” Mirocye replied. “I‘m a combat orientated soldier, or was. Nine years ago. A long time now, can‘t see my purpose here, I came home from fighting studied as a doctor, got to saving lives instead of taking them. As it was I‘m the last man of my unit, the rest are long dead.”

He didn’t want to draw into details. They did not bother him they were more tiresome after the inquests and the dozens of questions he’d been asked their. Spooks weren’t meant to be public figures. They were meant to be fleeting shadows.

The doors to the chamber swung inward and were followed by two MPs that promptly took positions on either side of the short hall and snapped into rigid salutes. The next pair of men to enter caused all in the room to turn their attention towards them. The larger and older of the two men strode confidently in his Odin armor, all shined and painted with regal designs and golden inlays. The insignia of the House of Lords rested above his right breast, shining in all its brilliance. Lord North gave a curt nod to the men who had gathered before he took a seat in silence.

The other man was significantly less impressive. In fact, he looked rather weasel-like. He walked awkwardly, typically kept glancing down from the gathered soldiers only to push his glasses back up, and seemed to mutter to himself a little. His hair was long an unkempt. All in all, he looked as if the wind could blow him away without a second thought. Mr. Ward took a seat next to Lord North.

"Gentlemen," began North. "You have been selected for a mission of the utmost importance. Should you choose to accept and survive, you will all be known as heroes and humanity will forever be indebted to you. Should you choose to decline, it will be viewed as an act of high treason, you will be arrested, your rank will be revoked, and you will be tried as criminals. Any questions?"