"Faceless Pilot 10001, awaken."
Easier said than done., Charles Seves thought to himself, though all one could hear was a loud groan as the young man attempted to move. In response, a sharp pain ripped through him, like each and everyone of his nerves were being pinched. At the same time, however, he felt his initial drowsiness being replaced with a feeling not unlike a rush of adrenaline. Knowing how the MOD treated Faceless, he wouldn't be surprised if it
was in fact adrenaline being pumped into him to awaken him from what must have been a long rest. Eventually, he opened his eyes, only to be blinded by the artificial lighting of the room he was held in. With his vision slowly returning to relative clarity, he noticed there was no natural lighting to speak of and, save for the uniformed man standing over his bed, not a single natural thing in the room. He looked at the man and coughed, spewing up a bit of nutrient supplement. The man stepped aside and, wiping a bit of the spittle off of his uniform with a handkerchief, shook his head.
"I expected more respect out of you, Faceless. You are speaking to a Duke of the Principality of Remoni, after all." His tone was quite sarcastic, but Seves understood right away what kind of man he was facing. This duke was the sort of man who never saw Faceless as people. Often, that was the case and the warmest reception a pilot could ever get would come from civilians unknowing of just who they were talking to.
"I'd bow, but you know-" Seves did his best to smirk, but was cut off by the duke.
"You've been under for half a year now. You missed your birthday, not that I could care any less. As much as it pains me to say it, we need you, 10001." Seves could just barely see him take some papers out of a binder, spend some time looking over them as the pilot observed the blurred humanoid in front of him in silence. Considering this duke had come to request the services of a deserter, he thought it wisest to keep quiet. "The Federation has been making... movements. Well, larger ones than usual, anyway. Diverting forces away from their overseas territories and, particularly, it looks like they plan to withdraw from the Joint Front. If they do that, the aliens will just steamroll our forces and move across the sea to do the same to our people."
"Then the Sateans would just roll in, take out the aliens, be called heroes by the civilians and next thing we know, they're now citizens of the Satean State of Remoni, is that it?" The Faceless pilot's ability to catch onto these sort of things had always been a strength of his. He hadn't been flying for six years for nothing, after all.
"I'm afraid so. Thus, command is willing to put aside your little excursion, in exchange for you to command a new squadron, to put it simply."
A little excursion, sure. Seves thought to himself. An excursion that involved him and his expensive mech attempting to escape across the sea to neutral territory in Frusa, but ended with him bleeding from every hole he knew and didn't know he could bleed out of, his head feeling like it was going to pop and his heart making a fair imitation of a thirty-six millimeter assault cannon until he crashed into the sea. "Believe it or not, you were quite lucky, you got out of the crash without even a scratch. Most of the pain you feel right now is just to keep you from doing anything stupid."
"What will I need to do?" "Shave, first of all. Faceless have more freedom in their hair as compared to typical soldiers, but I feel embarrassed to have you in our armed forces looking like a bum. After that, you'll be the commander of Faceless Squadron Seven. The Ministry of Defense believes your lack of qualms with dangerous and morally grey missions makes you suitable for the role. I have my own ideas, but orders are orders." Seves cleared his throat of the rest of the nutrient supplement to ask a question. "And before you ask, the only other choice you have is for you to fall asleep now and not wake up again. Either you wake up a new man in a month or you never wake up. The choice is yours."
"See you in a month then, Your Highness." "Hope you're ready for war, Faceless."
It wasn't often Faceless Pilot 60606 -- also known as Maja Novak or by her callsign "Screwdriver -- ran not out of fuel, but out of cigarettes. Between the breaks she took in between smokes and the amount of smokes she had to begin with, she could often get through a day or two before requisitioning more. However, with nothing to do during this long transfer other than take in the scenery, smoke and occasionally refuel, she was without smokes for the past hour and she honestly didn't have the slightest clue how much time she had left until she would be landing at Courier Field Air Base near the southwestern border with the Federation. Aside from a few waypoints to fly through, she had no guidance and the young pilot honestly wondered why. It wasn't often that she was given a objective so shrouded in secrecy, especially when it was an especially simple objective of transferring to a particular location for further orders.
Not only that, but her rear and arms were getting very sore and she was incredibly hungry. Soon enough, she'd need to pee as well, inevitably. She probably stunk too, having not showered for over twenty-four hours since she was ordered to fly overseas from her former deployment in the Empire of Yuka and Wyd. Overall, she had long lost her patience with the trip, she had only gotten some shuteye during a portion of autopilot flight across the sea and had long tired of performing aerobatic maneuvers to kill time and practice.
"The things we poor Faceless have to deal with..." she mumbled as she gazed at a relatively interesting set of hills. In the distance, she could just barely see the outline of gigantic radar equipment, serving as part of the Federation of Satea's early warning system. Were they aware of her presence as she flew alone through the noon sky in her "Diamond Axe", her gaudy paint scheme contrasting with the blue of the sky? Was there anyone watching her, or were they taking their lunch break in the summer heat? Maja almost wished it was the latter, not just for her sake.
Personally, she'd give anything to simply bask in the heat with a book, a cigarette and a cold drink, taking a break from the constant action that made up the life of a Faceless. Fittingly enough, this thought was suddenly interrupted, by the sound of her mech being hailed with wireless communications.
<< Friendly airborne mech pilot, this is Courier Field Air Base control. Please state your identity and mission. >>
"Hello, Mister Control. This is six o'six ooooooooh six, I'm a Faceless, transferring from the Empire of Yuka and Wyd. Requesting permission to land." A worryingly long pause came from the Control and Maja briefly wondered if she had broken something in the cockpit with her smoking again, until she heard a quiet voice complaining about the Faceless coming to the base.
Don't worry, I'll only be there long enough to have a shower and requisition your supply of cigarettes..." Her first response was a long sigh.
<< You're early, Faceless. Land on runway B and move your airborne mech to hangar, you have a briefing in twenty minutes. >>
"Sorry for ruining this beautiful afterno-" Maja began before the connection was cut. She smugly grinned.
Not fans of us kids, I take it, they didn't even afford me some jargon. It didn't actually mean that much to her, two years of being treated like some sort of inhuman war machine had made kind treatment more surprising. Carefully moving her legs and aiding her maneuvers with her arms, the M-13/09 approached the runway, slowing down as the throttle was dropped by Maja moving her feet, the digital speedometer and altimeter dropping digits until she was right above the tarmac. With a jolt of her legs, the flier core was shutdown and the mech switched control schemes as she settled down onto the strip, the cockpit shaking. Maja's rear hit the seat hard.
Damn it, I was trying to hurt my ass a bit less with that landing, not more!. The mech landed without problems as its pilot groaned and began walking it over to the hangar, guided by a few technicians on the ground. She had no weapons to put away, so she went past the armory dispenser right onto a ramp and stood the machine straight before shutting it down with a voice command, "60606, shutting down airborne mech.".
The cockpit slid out and a rope was extended down to the ground, where a professional soldier was waiting for her. "Faceless Pilot 60606, Corporal Te-" Maja pushed past the young man and picked up a water bottle out of his hands and already making a beeline for the barracks as she unzipped the top of her flightsuit and reading the name on his own suit.
"Yeah, yeah, Corporal Terrence at my service, thanks for the water, where are the showers, I'm dying here." Maja peeled off the top of the flightsuit from her sticky skin and drenched tanktop, fanning herself with her hand as she made her away towards what she assumed were the barracks, based on architecture. The change of temperatures from her conditioned cockpit to the hot summer weather had her feeling like she was melting.
"F-faceless, you have a briefing in twenty minutes, I'd recommend you go there immediately!" The young man, a runty looking adult in an oversized uniform who was older than her in age alone barely kept up with 60606 while averting his eyes from the nearly transparent top she was wearing.
"Did I stutter? Show me the showers, I'm not going to the briefing smelling like a corpse. And believe me, I've smelled corpses." Pausing in her stride for a moment, she turned towards the corporal and fanned her odor towards him.
"First lesson, my dear apprentice Corporal Terrence, corpses smell a lot like this. Just less sweaty and more gore-y and rot-y, but you get my point, bad smell." the young pilot explained as she began walking again, leaving behind the gagging man.
"Showers are... oh God... this way." He stumbled ahead and began to show her the way, eager to save himself and others of the stench.
"Your service to your comrades is admirable, Corporal. The Principality herself thanks you, as do I, the humble Maja Novak.". A wink was sent in the direction of the corporal, who weakly saluted as Maja marched into the women's showers.
"Call me if I take too long, you little cinnamon roll. And bring me a change of clothes, I don't have all day." Meanwhile, a short walk across the base, Charles Seves found himself in the briefing room, flanked by two armed men, waiting for the arrival of his new subordinates...
