MARS: 1 - Amalgamation - TITAN Contractors
11 Feb 2022Aurora Adair (Radiumio)
NOTE: This story contains themes of violence and strong language.
Author Note
First off, a massive thanks goes out to everyone who has been reading Aurora's logbooks and the stories I write for my squadron, TITAN Contractors. Even bigger thanks goes out to those who have gotten involved with the story or supported it, none of this would be possible without you.
Kicking off the new year with the squadron narrative will be a story series called 'MARS', with this first episode being called 'Amalgamation'. The series name might make sense later on, but either way, I hope you enjoy! The stories are written from the perspective of 29 year old Sergeant R. Locke, a CSF soldier and Pioneer specialist who previously served in the Alliance Defence Force. How he faces a dark conspiracy growing within the squadron and battles against it with his fellow soldiers will be the pinnacle points of this story, and it'll take a deep dive into the corrupt heart of the Syn Group, a mysterious corrupt group hailing from the Federation, which also holds a deadly secret. Maybe more, who knows?
I hope you enjoy the stories to come! Thank you again.
o7
- CMDR Radiumio
Kicking off the new year with the squadron narrative will be a story series called 'MARS', with this first episode being called 'Amalgamation'. The series name might make sense later on, but either way, I hope you enjoy! The stories are written from the perspective of 29 year old Sergeant R. Locke, a CSF soldier and Pioneer specialist who previously served in the Alliance Defence Force. How he faces a dark conspiracy growing within the squadron and battles against it with his fellow soldiers will be the pinnacle points of this story, and it'll take a deep dive into the corrupt heart of the Syn Group, a mysterious corrupt group hailing from the Federation, which also holds a deadly secret. Maybe more, who knows?
I hope you enjoy the stories to come! Thank you again.
o7
- CMDR Radiumio
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DATE: 11th of February, 3308 [09:21 UGT]
LOCATION: T.O.C. Solaris Q4V-40N, Misir"...-ocke... Locke!"
Opening his eyes suddenly, Locke examined the environment around him as a loud call forced him awake. It came as a surprise to him that he had managed to drift off to sleep in the brightly lit, plain armory, and despite the standard issue combat suit covering his body, the feeling of the grated deck below was harsh and cold regardless. Snapping his gaze up towards the source of the voice, Locke quickly spotted the figure who called out to him. His gaze met a cold, black visor, obscuring the face of a suited individual, who took a few steps towards him, entering the armory.
It didn't take long for Locke to realize his mistake and where he was - he had fallen asleep in one of Centurion's armories despite being on duty - and now the figure confronting him was another CSF soldier. A Captain, nonetheless, one he didn't recognize immediately thanks to their similar armor and hidden face. Bracing himself for the incoming reprimands, he jumped to his feet and scratched his head, looking around at his gear that he had left at his feet.
"Captain. I fell asleep. My bad. It won't happen aga-..."
"Locke. Relax." Reaching a hand up, the Captain disengaged his helmet, prompting it to retract back into the suit. A man with brown, smoothed back hair but otherwise average appearance revealed himself, lowering his arm as he looked at Locke with a confused expression. "What's your deal? I haven't seen you for three hours. You're supposed to..."
"... supposed to be on duty, doing logistics screening. Yeah. I know."
"So, what's the issue? And why are you missing half of your gear, Sergeant?"
Looking down at himself, Locke made a second realization. Only about half of his suit was on, pieces of his armor not yet assembled on the floor below. His standard-issue weapons and equipment laid scattered around the localized area near his locker, prompting more confusion, even from himself. Did he pass out? Why... or how?
"... I... don't know, sir. I passed out or... something."
His words prompted an even more confused look from the Captain, who took another look at the disarrayed equipment at Locke's feet.
"Locke. Do I need to call a medic or something? What's going on? Your element needs you at cargo deck Delta-One. The last bits of the Tritium shipments need to be screened. We're handling the others."
"Okay... well... With all due respect, Captain. Is it all that necessary? What are we hoping to find? It's just carrier fuel. W-..."
The Captain raised a hand, shaking his head.
"Orders from the Squadron Commander herself. After the communications fault, we need to be more stringent with security protocols. You know that. Didn't you get your brief?"
Memories of before he fell asleep started to flood back. Indeed, he did receive a security briefing and he knew today was the day his element was assigned to wrapping up the remaining Tritium shipments. Grabbing his stuff, Locke quickly secured his suit and started to fumble his armor together, forming the ballistic plate carrier that would cover his torso.
"Y-yeah. Yes sir. We'll get it done right now. All good."
With a hesitant nod, the Captain maintained his puzzled look as he slowly backed out of the armory. Eventually, deploying his helmet again to cover his face, he departed the armory, leaving Locke alone in the armory. How he fell asleep was still extremely unclear, but he felt fine. Slipping his suit pack on and powering it up after he had donned the plate carrier, he ran a quick biometric check. Vitals all seemed good. With a shrug, Locke started to grab the rest of his equipment. No point dwelling on it in the end, and part of him expected a worse reprimand from the Captain anyway.
Sliding his helmet on and linking it to the suit, Locke proceeded to double-check his gear. His weapons; an AR-50 and an Oppressor, check. Suit seals, check. Random, unprovoked amnesia? Check. This day was off to a fantastic start already.
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DATE: 11th of February, 3308 [12:24 UGT]
LOCATION: T.O.C. Solaris Q4V-40N, Misir"Okay. Okay, that's good! Stop!"
Holding up his hand, Locke halted the crane operator. Eight tons of Tritium fuel dangled a metre or two from the latticed floor, hung from the hydraulic claw mounted to the cargo bay ceiling. This was one of the last shipments of the day that needed to be screened for any contraband, in order to ensure it was safe for use. Getting through thousands of tons in three hours was no easy feat, but thankfully he had the assistance of his element. Taking a step towards the crates for a visual integrity check, Locke was interrupted by one of his men by his side, his helmet covering his face. Were it not for the insignias, everyone would look the same around here.
"Locke. Take a look at this." Producing a small handheld PDA, Helvet extended it to Locke, who took it. Staring at the screen, he took in the x-ray view of the crates they had just screened.
"What am I looking at?"
"Some of the canisters are empty, sir. And there's something in this one. The scanner won't penetrate deeper, so not sure what it is." Gesturing to the screen, Helvet pointed out a specific canister on the x-ray. Instead of containing a capacity readout, the scanner picked up a strange, faint blob within one of the canisters, and as he mentioned - only five of the eight canisters contained Tritium.
"Like a... what is this? Like a bag or something? What has that kind of shape? Couldn't be a body or someone hiding in there." Handing Helvet the PDA back, Locke gestured to the crane operator at the crane's control tower. With a dull clang, the Tritium canisters made contact with the cargo bay's metal floor, the hydraulic claws disengaging as it withdrew. Reaching back, Locke gripped his assault rifle and pulled it from his suit pack, bringing it forward into his hands. Stocking the rifle into his shoulder slightly, he approached the canister, maintaining a constant visual on it. Helvet followed, moving to Locke's flank as he grabbed his own carbine, adopting a defensive stance.
Calling out across the hangar, Locke gestured to a feminine figure standing near the crane operator tower, clad in the same standard armor Centurion operatives wore, albeit lighter and less bulky with the helmet still covering their face.
"Specialist! Crack this canister open."
Jogging over, Specialist Adeline quickly approached, grabbing a military tablet from a pouch on her belt. Plugging it into the top of the canister lid, she held the heavy-duty tablet in her left hand, drawing her sidearm from her hip and holding it close to her chest. Whatever was in these crates had no right being there - and security protocols had to be extremely strict. Locke knew that.
Beeps came from both the tablet and canister, but nothing happened. For a minute, this continued, before a huff came from Specialist Adeline. Lowering his rifle, Locke looked over at her, stepping a bit closer to the crate.
"What's going on?"
"Not sure. I can't open it. It's like the mechanism is either shut closed or the system isn't responding to a manual override. I can't get in, sir."
"We need the crate open. Helvet, are you sure there's absolutely no Tritium in this crate?"
A nod from Helvet confirmed Locke's question. "No sir. It's completely empty."
"Then notify Captain Griffith immediately. And get me a cutting tool."
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DATE: 11th of February, 3308 [13:51 UGT]
LOCATION: T.O.C. Solaris Q4V-40N, Misir"I'm not sure, sir. The canister refuses to open despite the attempts from my specialist. We're not sure what's in there, but we have a cutting tool. Let us torch it open."
Shadowing Captain Griffith, Locke marched back into cargo bay Delta-One alongside him, a fireteam of CSF soldiers following. While getting the cutting tool was easy, getting the attention of task force Talon's leader wasn't, but that had changed minutes ago. While he didn't believe he needed permission to cut open the canister, Locke figured that the anomaly within the crate was well worth the notification.
"Fine, Sergeant. Cut open the canister and investigate if you feel it's necessary. Where's the scanner readout?"
Reaching the canisters again, Locke gestured to Helvet, who was nearby, helmetless this time. "Helvet. Get me that readout."
"Here, sir." Handing the same PDA back over, Locke took it and displayed to Griffith. Examining it for a moment, Locke was sure he gave a confused expression - were it not for the helmet that covered the Captain's face.
"Right... Odd. Have your men cut it open. Let's see what's in this thing."
"Yes sir." Turning back to the general direction of the crates, Locke drew his firearm again and gestured to Specialist Adeline, who was nearby with an Arc Cutter in her hands. An uneasy feeling overtook him for a moment, but a deep curiosity of what was inside the canister encouraged him to give the order. "Specialist. Cut it open."
With a nod, she stepped forward and readied the Arc Cutter. Pulling the trigger, a blue cutting beam projected from the tool, lasering away the edges of the canister as the beam cut through the solid metal with ease. Still, seeing inside the crate was impossible until the lid was removed, and so Locke and his element stood at the ready, Helvet guarding close by Specialist Adeline while she cut away at the canister.
After roughly fifteen seconds of precise cutting, Adeline stopped and backed off, leaving only a slither of metal left to hold the lid on. Something wasn't right about all of this, but there was no going back. Stepping closer along with Helvet, Locke peered at the top of the canister, hesitating a bit. Something was starting to fill the hangar with an odd smell, and for a moment he froze. What was in this thing?
"What is that? Lift the lid."
Even Helvet hesitated, but after a moment he complied, stepping forward as his gloved hand gripped the warm edge of the lid. Lifting it up, he suddenly dropped it, stepping back as disgust covered his face. "God, agh! What the fuck is that smell?!"
"Locke, fuck. I can't open that thing. Jesus..."
For a moment, Locke looked around the hangar, mainly at Captain Griffith who watched on nearby with his team. Reaching up, Locke engaged his helmet, bringing the visor down to obscure his face as the suit began to run on filtered life support. "Helmets on. Helvet, open it."
Flicking his helmet on as well, Helvet stepped close cautiously once more, reaching over to the lid. Pulling it back with a bit of a struggle, the lid was soon bent backwards, exposing the interior of the canister. Even through the filtered air, the smell was putrid enough to be smelt inside the suit, prompting a grimace from Locke. Stepping forward with his rifle raised and stocked against his shoulder, he switched his suit light on and leant over to look into the canister.
For a moment, what he saw made no sense, but the smell and look slowly began to make him understand. The blob in the bottom of the canister was an unrecognizable organic mass, the interior walls of the canister coated in blood which pooled at the bottom. The sight was horrific, as was the smell, but recognizing if it was a person or even who or what it was would be impossible now.
"Locke! What's inside?", called out Captain Griffith, but no response came. Locke froze, staring into the canister while Helvet backed away, gagging. It was awful, but for some reason he couldn't break away. Just what was he actually looking at? Who or what did this? Why was it here in one of their canisters? None of it made sense. After a long pause, Locke responded, still not looking away.
"Captain... I... I dunno what I'm... looking at right now."
Stepping closer, the Captain groaned and shook his head as the smell reached him, but remained undeterred, approaching Locke and the canister. Initially staring Locke down, the Captain leant forward and looked into the canister, his gaze falling upon the mass inside. The silence seemed to last forever, the only ambience in the hangar being the gentle hum of the mechanical equipment and the carrier's ventilation - and Helvet's occasional gagging. Both Locke and Griffith stood there for what seemed like ages, the former's rifle still at the ready and pointed into the canister for no particular reason.
Part of him hoped the Captain would say something to break the tension or tell him what to do, but no response came for a while longer. Eventually, he felt as though he should be the one to break the silence, but almost by pure coincidence, the Captain exchanged one last look between the canister and Locke, and spoke carefully.
"... Locke. What the actual fuck am I looking at?"
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Credit:
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