Fan Fiction ❯ The Great Refusal of the Inter-Galactic Navy ❯ First time Down ( Prologue )

The Great Refusal of the Inter-Galactic Navy

 

This is and original story based in the IGN era of the Star Wars universe. I do not own Star Wars, or any of its concepts, nor do I own the concepts of Mechs. Star Wars belongs to George Lucas, and Mechs belong to… Who did use Mechs first? Oh well lets say the FASA Corporation, cuz I like Mech warrior. The characters and primary plot of the IGN Saga are my own works.

 

The Prologue:

 

Cak walked through the woods. The sweet smell of the nearby lake and pinesap where kind to a combatant like Cak. He looked around seeing the sunlight dance on the ground; filtered through the trees above. A light breeze rustled the leaves. It was an overwhelming feeling to Cak; like being lost yet knowing exactly where one is.

“That's what the dense wilderness does.” Cak thought.

He laid down on a bed of soft moss and scarce patches of grass. The breeze came again lightly. It seamed to carry away the light amount of uncomfortable heat and humidity for a short few seconds.

Cak turned his head to the lake. Just on the other side laid his Mech. The enemy had shot him down less than twelve hours ago, and left him for dead. Since then the wind had purged the smoke and the harsh sent of vaporized metal. Cak decided to change out of his flight suit before he overheated.

Cak forced himself up off the ground as it urged him to return and take a short nap. He walked over to the lake and fished a black watertight crate out of the Ejection Seat wreckage. Opening it, Cak found his defensive weapons and his woodland change of clothes. Cak changed and stowed his flight suit in the crate.

No sooner had Cak finished; the ground shook. Cak looked around trying to find the source of the quake. Even as he hoped he wasn't hearing what he thought, an enemy Mech's radio flag pierced tree level.

Cak's blood ran cold. “What do I do?” He thought, as he grabbed his long-arm rifle from where he propped it against a tree, “I am a good shot but how the hell do I take on a walking chunk of metal twelve times taller than me?” As his training took over, Cak grabbed a his camo net out of his crate and started rubbing camo stick paint on his face. Cak dove to the ground near a tree, threw the camo net over him, and poked his rifle out the mesh of fake leaves. The Mech thundered closer. “Damn he is moving fast,” Cak thought to himself, “I realty don't fancy the idea of him stepping on me.” He shuddered at the thought of becoming like the infantry that he had mowed down using his own Mech earlier that day, “I will not think of that lightly ever again…”

Cak traced the path of the footpad as it rose in the air again and descended towards him, missing him by about five or ten feet. The Mech stopped. Its torso twisted left and right, scanning the area visually. The Mech started moving again, apparently missing the downed Mech across the lake. As the Mech walked off Cak shook violently with a post-paranoia nervous breakdown. Back at the training camp he had been stationed at, although there where Mechs walking all over, he could not remember being within 1000 feet of a mobile unit.

Cak wanted to go off deep into the woods; to curl up and hide until the knot in his chest disappeared. He shook his head, “No, that's a silly idea,” he thought, “Only a fool would think that, not a warrior.” He shook his head again, slightly harder than before. As if his current feelings where some sort of bug that could easily be set to flight. The knot in his chest would not go away. Cak wanted to get up as well, but the camo net would not detangle to allow him unrestricted movement. Giving up on his struggle against the net, Cak lay back down.

“Damn!” Cak said aloud, “These things sure are not designed to promote escape and desertion of a field post.” His joke made him feel slightly better. Relaxing Cak let his mind wander, taking him back to the Basic Training Camp and the Mechanized Combat Training Facilities.

Cak looked at his wrist chrono. It was 2100 hours. On that planet, in that base, he knew a young pilot cadet named Aey Elles with the call sign `Mi' (Pronounced like “my”) would be double-checking flight manuals for the ZR-95 fighter craft that she wanted to fly. Cak's mind walked further through the barracks remembering Alex Zebbs, call sign `Sig.' Other than himself Cak could not think of any pilot that could have had more potential in training as a cadet. Mi and Sig where set to graduate at the end of that month, after completion of a two-year training course. Cak continued to think on like that for hours. He recalled training exercises, barracks life, and more importantly, he went over what went wrong in combat earlier that day. He used any memory he could pull from his brain as a topic of thought in attempt to keep himself occupied and alert.

 

* * *

 

Cak awoke in the early morning as the warm mist finished settling on the forest floor. He smelled something similar to sewage as he breathed in deeply. In his tired daze he decided that there must have been some type of wetland or swamp nearby. He knew that in the night you don't adjust to a smell like that, the smell sort of sneaks up, while you are deep in sleep.

“SLEEP!” Cak snapped out of his mid-morning grog. He fell asleep last night. He sat up straight and went up on his knees to look to the lake. The Mech was still present and intact… or at least as intact as it was after he was finished using it last. Half of Cak smiled as he thought about how his only connection to the IGN was used in a twisted ironic joke.

Cak reached into his crate and grabbed a field ration. He looked back at the devastated unit and decided it was probably safe to approach. It was about time to assess the damage. Fighting the camo net off of him Cak struggled to stand up fully. Instead he lost his temper with it, reached into the crate again to produce a combat knife and line fasteners. He strapped the net down on his body with the line fasteners and cut the excess between his arms and legs so he could move freely, yet still remain under camouflage.

Grabbing his rifle, a notebook, and a light toolkit, Cak started making his way around the lake. As he progressed through the woods, he couldn't help but once again notice the beauty of the wilderness. The wild growths beckoned him to return to the clearings; to gaze at the sky, and rest. But Cak knew he had to pass off the urge and press on. His current task needed to be finished first. Finishing his short trek around the lake, Cak approached his Mech. He pulled out the notebook and started his assessment by stating the obvious.

“Ok,” Cak sighed, “Lets see, Left leg… severed. Left hip… damaged. Right arm assembly… seized from rail gun to shoulder, plus its severed. Drive systems… inconclusive. Head…” He chewed on his pen for a moment, “Severed in half along horizon at the ejection bolts. Ejection seat assembly… Oh boy this is a good one… Removed from unit by means of ejection. Fusion engine… Intact, presumed operational.” He stopped to scratch his head a moment, and then chewed on the pen some more, “I guess that covers pretty much all vital systems. Now all I need to do is record sub-system status, and finish up by yanking the main board.”

Cak took a bite of the field ration, “Yay, Beef flavored sawdust,” he groaned, “All that I need to make a bad task worse. Between the food and the paperwork I'd bet they do this to downed pilots to discourage them from wrecking machines again. I mean its not like I went in to battle yesterday intending to total my Mech behind enemy lines.

 

* * *

 

Over the period of many hours Cak went on checking and recording what seamed like an endless string of subsystems, most of which didn't seam to matter anymore. Cak continued his half joking half complaining, even though there was no one present to hear him. None the less Cak worked diligently through the day and into the late night (by flashlight) until he completed his 1000-point checklist.

 

* * *

 

Cak was standing in the charred remains of the cockpit, running his hands over the panel in front of him, trying to locate the seam that he was trying to get a grip on. It was harder that he expected. The panel was supposed to open at the bottom. But during ejection the evacuation rockets had caused most of the interior to melt and fuse together. The panel Cak was trying to remove was no exception. Cak reached into his toolkit and produced a pry bar and torsion bar. Using the torsion bar to stress the panel, Cak wedged the pry bar in the adjacent corner and gave it a twist. With a soft pop the panel fell from the console.

The main computer was smaller than he expected it to be. Cak reached in and removed the main systems board and storage drive. The six-inch by two-inch brick that contained both was dwarfed in the two-foot square opening. He examined the little brick in awe. He had studied photographs of it in training, but this was the first time he was ever able to hold one in his hands and inspect it.

As much as Cak wanted to sit in the near-comfortable shelter of what used to be his unit, he knew that with the main systems removed, the recovery beacon should be going off; broadcasting his location to allies… and enemies. He really didn't care, because if enemies units arrived the IGN would have armed Marines waiting for them… he hoped. Either way he figured that he had better be listening in on comm. traffic. He went to switch on his Comm-linx.

“Where did it go?” Cak said, “Wasn't it right here?” A dark object caught his eye from across the lake. The crate. “Shit! Its back at camp” he continued as he realized that he had neglected to unpack it.

Shouldering his rifle, Cak stuffed the system's unit into his tool bag. He climbed out of the wreckage and jogged hastily back around the lake. He stopped only when he had arrived at the crate, threw it open, and yanked out the Comm-linx. He flicked it on but heard only distant static. He sighed.

Cak was thirsty from the run he made around the lake. In fact he realized that he had not had anything to drink since he took his flight suit off the previous day. He surveyed the lake, but knew that there would be bacteria in the water. Cak dug his flight suit out of the crate and fished in the helmet until he found the hydration tube. He bit down on it and took a long sip, wiped his mouth then lay back down on the ground.

Cak looked up to the stars and thought back to the Training Facilities, but this time thinking only of Mi. He didn't want to think of training, only the times on base that he spent with Mi. Deeply planted in his mind was the memory of the last time that they spent together. At that point Cak had just graduated from Advanced Mechanized Combat Training, and was immediately commissioned to head off to war in the far reaches of space on the following day. That night Mi sneaked out of the mess hall and away from her training unit. They spent no more than fifteen minutes on that hill, simply talking, but still just being together. The last thing she did was give Cak a soft kiss before saying, “don't go off and get yourself killed, I want you to come back to me.” With that she walked back to the mess hall so she could sneak back in before any one missed her, when the unit counted off for…

SNAP!! Something broke in the woods. Cak sat up straight again as he came back to reality. He looked over to the Comm-linx, as he grabbed his rifle. The radio was still there. He rolled up onto his knees as he scanned the woods with the rifle, as if it where attached to his face at the stock. He spun around as a shadow crept up behind him.

He relaxed his grip, and dropped the muzzle of the rifle as a pack of wolf like dogs walked through his camp. Local legendary creature, that's all. Translation of the name literally meant “Dogs of War.” There was an old military myth that these brave dogs where seen only by lost combatants, and would guard the combatant until they found their way, or where safely recovered. Science claimed that the dogs where merely an illusion, companions created by lost soldiers to keep them company. The few confirmed cases where passed off, as packs of wolves that stayed with soldiers because of food scraps left laying about. True or not, Cak decided he liked the myth better and, reached out to pet the alpha-male as he approached.

“Akles… Tac officer Mark Akles Do you copy,” All attention in the area turned to the Comm-linx as it began to pick up a signal, “Are you there Cak?”

Cak got up and picked up the Comm-linx, “Tac officer Mark Akles as Cak reporting,” Cak spoke, “My situation is great down here right now, I suppose it would only be better if I was up there with you guys and my unit still worked.” Laughs could be heard over the channel.

“This is Logistics,” the Comm-linx spoke again, “good to hear from you Cak. We are dispatching a drop craft to retrieve you. Is there any thing you need for the flight back?”

“Send some real food,” Cak replied, “those field rations make better particle board that meals.” More laughs over the channel.

“Got it,” Logistics called back, “where the hell where you over the past hour and a half? This was out last transmission before we where going to assume you where KIA and leave the system.”

“I was a little busy” Cak lied.

“Well Tactical reports that the drop craft is landing on target,” Logistics reported, “See you when you get Back Cak, Logistics out.”

“Roger, Cak Out”

As Cak set down the Comm-linx the Alpha-male dog approached Cak again. It bent its front legs and gave Cak the impression that it was bowing. The dog got up and ran off into the woods, the other dogs following.

“No…” Cak said, “Thank you, If you didn't wake me up I would have missed the call and been trapped here MIA until I either died or was captured.”

Cak got back up and started to pack into the crate. Before he was finished packing he pulled his flight suit from where he had left it on the ground and changed into it, discarding the Camo net and line fasteners into the crate along with his change of clothes. As Cak sealed his helmet the fresh sweet air was replaced with the bitter taste of recycled oxygen. The helmet heads up display registered as he activated suit power, just in time too.

The drop craft descended and landed in the clearing that Cak had seen earlier. Cak picked up his crate and started moving to the drop craft. Everything felt surreal to Cak as he approached the drop craft, with its landing strobes flashing slowly in the dark. Marines had unloaded and where scanning the area with their firearms, looking for any attempt to block the rescue operation. When Cak was in sight range of the Marine Sergeant, Cak gave thumbs up, the universal “I'm Ok.” Two Marines ran forwards to take the crate from Cak and load it on the drop craft. Everybody boarded the craft and it launched, following its course back to the cruiser that had brought them to the sector.

Cak looked out the porthole.

“Worried about your Mech?” the Sergeant asked, Cak shook his head, “Then I assume you had a run in with them too?” the sergeant continued, “I mean the dogs. Damn I thought only infantry leaders saw them.”

Cak activated his VOX system, “Yes I did see them. Why did you ask?”

“I saw the Dogs of War when my unit got lost in hostile territory at the beginning of the battle.” The Sergeant said, “The dogs lead us safely through many mine fields and unfriendly forests. But you want to know the weird thing?”

“What?” Cak asked

“When I made a comment to the men about the dogs after we made it back to the drop ship,” the Sergeant replied, “no one else had seen them, the men thought I had lost it during the battle.” An awkward silence hung in the air.

“Did commander hound make it back?” Cak asked.

“You where on her team,” the Sergeant said, “you should know that she vaporized in her Mech better than all of us, you had to witness it.”

“I know,” Cak replied, “I still just wanted to believe that there was chance she made it through.”

The Sergeant put a hand on Cak's Shoulder, “I am really sorry Commander. As an Infantry leader I see good men and friends die all the time.” The Sergeant said, “If I was rough the way I put it I apologize. You and Commander Hound where very good friends, and even though Pilots and Infantry don't normally get along unless they have to, the both of you have always treated us like the rest of the team. Commander Hound was a good person.”

“Thanks…” Cak replied.

The Flight continued in silence, which was only broken by the craft's commander notifying everyone of docking over the PA system. As the hatch opened, the Sergeant gave Cak a friendly pat on the back, left the drop craft, and was never seen by Cak ever again. As Cak exited the craft, technicians ran by with the System's unit from his ruined Mech, taking it in for analysis. An officer from Tactical was awaiting Cak as he left the craft. He passed Cak a debriefing folder, first thing on the list, ten days off duty. Good he could read the rest of the file over that time.

The next assignment of the cruiser was to take all the units back to the base near the Training Facilities. Cak knew he would be able to see Mi and Sig graduate from their Advanced Combat Training. But all the new recruits where joining the crew, to replace all the units KIA, and on top of that the new Chief Logistics officer that they where supposed to receive, was rumored to be the worst person in the entire military.

Cak didn't want to worry about any of that. He lost his best friend in battle, so he decided to visit the cruiser's on board memorial. Then he could try to enjoy his ten days off. That's what Hound would have wanted.