#onelastpatrol

[Scanning: 0 Hostile Threats Detected > Resume Patrol]

It had been so, so long since they’d been here. The Militia, the faction that had created him, had assigned him to this supply depot with a small squadron of men and his Pilot, Jack Cooper. They were to defend this warehouse of supplies while the main fleet fled from the IMC, so that they’d have backup supplies to operate off of. 

[Mission Objective: Hold Supply Depot > In Progress]

[Mission Progression Status: Still Holding > Time Elapsed: 1095 Days]

That was almost three years ago. 

The depot, long overgrown and in dire need of repair, had been abandoned over the years. At first, it was quiet, and no IMC threats had attacked. But skirmishes and assaults had depleted all the available manpower, either wounding soldiers and causing them to flee, or killing them outright. BT-7274, a Veteran Vanguard-class Titan had been, and still currently is the only survivor. He did not know how to express these emotions, but harbored in his core is remorse over his second fallen Pilot, regret for the men he could not save, and a hatred for the IMC. The only way he knew how to express these feelings was violence. Any IMC forces, large or small, were stomped into complete and utter non-existence by the Titan.

Strangely though, a new threat had risen. BT could not identify them, but he came to know them. First, strange, almost triangular, squat creatures had almost reluctantly attacked, and fled when he’d crushed their commanding officer, a tall, muscular creature clad in material armor BT had never seen before. Regardless, his 20mm Electromagnetic Armor-Piercing Rounds cut through them like butter. Strange craft had flown overhead, projectiles of blue and green assortments burning the area when they hit. He did not know who they were, only that they were a threat, and threats were to be eliminated.

[Scanning: 347 Hostile Threats Detected > Engaging]

His chassis rotated around, highlighting targets in his HUD. His gun, though battle-tested and rugged, still ran reliably, spitting hot rounds into the direction of his enemies. There were more now than last time, including aerial support and heavy vehicles. It seemed there was an intense battle on the horizon.

@onelastpatrol​

Kagubatan was a rather plain name for this planet, but it wasn’t like it was wrong - the Filipino word meant “jungle”. This was an apt summation of the planet; its climate was comparable to Jurassic-era Earth’s, with lush jungles covering most of the planet. The poles were capped with ice, and sandwiched between these two realities were strips of forests and plains that occupied the areas of latitude you’d usually find tundra. Nursing a growing population of four million, the planet had been taken about seven years ago by the IMC, who by then had long since abandoned negotiations with Frontier colonies, instead broadcasting a warning to the planet.

THIS PLANET AND ITS RESOURCES ARE NOW PROPERTY OF THE INTERSTELLAR MANUFACTURING CORPORATION. A FLEET WILL ARRIVE WITHIN TWENTY-FOUR HOURS TO TRANSITION COLONIAL GOVERNMENT. RESISTANCE WILL BE MET WITH LETHAL FORCE.

What little resistance there was couldn’t stand up to the well-trained IMC that had occupied the planet, and for nearly the past decade the IMC had exercised control over the planet, its resources, and its citizenry.

Hopefully, that was soon to change. The Frontier Militia had little in the way of resources; they had to pick their offensives. And when Kagubatan’s name had popped up, the Militia 14th Fleet was free enough to organize a campaign; liberate the world from the IMC, and restore the freedom they had taken. The initial landings and combat had taken place without mercenary support, but once the element of surprise was lost Militia High Command sent out the usual feelers for assistance. The Militia were growing in strength, slowly becoming real professionals, but they were still lean, and needed every hand they could get.

Of the various freelancer squads that had answered the call, one of them was Voyager 4-0.

Douglas and VEGA had already spent the past two days fighting, and the Pilot was currently relaxing on top of his Titan in full battle dress inside the base camp he was currently stationed. He felt bad for the people without Pilot combat suits - his equipment was giving an external temperature reading of about 32 degrees Celsius, and that was before humidity was taken into account. It nearly breached 40, then. This was apparently one of the cooler temperatures Kagubatan experienced, if Fleet Met readings were any indication. A shame, really. If this wasn’t a war I’d be at the beach right now.

Unfortunately for Douglas, this was indeed a war. And it was starting to superlinearily escalate. Douglas expected to be on the move sometime within the next few hours. Militia signals intelligence units had picked up heavily encrypted transmissions, with redundant encoding that suggested very foul play. Somehow, trying the Cooper Cipher on the source had worked, revealing two things that must have sent the local admiral into a panic, and understandably so.

The IMC Archaeological Research Division was present on the planet. They were working on a superweapon of unknown nature, inside a complex that was less than fifty kilometres from his current position. They were initiating evacuation procedures, which meant that if they weren’t intercepted (and soon), they’d be off the planet, their toy in tow, and with every computer in the building complex enough to run Hello World sanitized. As soon as the go signal was given, Douglas needed to be hauling ass towards the facility.

The local force commander was still coming up with a plan, but the Pilot supposed SRS operators were still running recon around the complex so that something appropriate could be cooked up. In the meanwhile, he knew as much as any other Grunt did - ARES were here, they were operating a complex very close to their current position, there was a superweapon of unknown type inside it, and within six hours they were going to be storming it to keep them from running off with it.

“Nothing to do but hurry up and wait, eh?”

VEGA was more casual than he usually was in these sorts of close-to-combat situations - for the time being, he had judged the camp to be a safe environment, so he saw no reason to keep weapons drawn. “For you. I am running multiple systems checks.”

“Lucky you.” The Pilot fished a bullet out of a pocket and flipped it around in his hands. “You get to distract yourself. And I get to sit here with my thumbs up my ass.”

“That isn’t sanitary.”

In the two years Cato had been fighting for the UNSC, this was one of the toughest missions yet. From the second the pelican deployed, things had gone wrong. It was a miracle they even managed to land the crippled craft. The copilot was dead along with three of the ODST squad he was sent with and injuring another two. leaving him with three uninjured marines. It would have to be enough for the job at hand. 

After hiding the pelican as best they could, Cato and his squad left the pilot and the injured marines to fix the pelican if they could. Creeping through the underbrush for nearly two hours, Gemini squad was severely behind schedule. Luckily, their destination was before them. With its back against an ocean bluff, was the generator to a MAC platform under heavy siege.