Black Horse Interception
Hermann had warned me that taking down Scarab would bring a heap of annoying trouble, but nothing special had happened since then. No named requests, no threatening messages flying my way.
If it were Scarab's personality, I figured at least one threat laced with curses would come—a rematch challenge packed with profanity, like the ones players got in the game.
But it was dead quiet. Surprisingly out of character. Anyway, since Hermann hadn't given me any jobs either, I was just killing time with nothing to do. My right field of vision had gotten a bit worse, enough to cause minor issues in daily life, but it didn't seem like a big deal.
After fighting Scarab that hard, I didn't even feel like forcing myself into the Nexus right now.
My body itched a little for action, but that was it. I thought about asking Hermann if there were any requests, but I held off. He'd tell me when the time was right. No point rushing it for zero gain.
Well, he finally said it.
That he'd head out after finishing two more requests. Turning back now would be mortifyingly embarrassing. I had no desire to anyway, so I needed to prep thoroughly for going solo from here on out.
I took stock of what I had.
Stolen Nexus, mystery mobile hangar, and some junk parts scavenged from the battlefield.
The only things I'd bought were a few FCS units and one GREECE frame. Thinking of the GREECE frame made me groan in annoyance.
Hermann was right—it was junk they were dumping as malicious inventory.
Old-gen product, my ass. The performance was so defective it bordered on outright faulty. Armor at standard levels, armament limited to a submachine gun and two six-tube missile pods. And even then, slapping on one gatling gun triggered a weight overload.
A frame that couldn't handle even a single heavy weapon? What the hell was that? Probably a combo of tech limitations back then and their unique doctrine.
They used to try moving Nexus like actual humans controlling their bodies.
Could a person wield a gatling gun in each hand? Ridiculous. Hell, even one was practically impossible, so the idea of dual heavies wouldn't have crossed their minds. Just picking one up was probably enough of a feat.
Hence the scrap in front of me now, beeping overload with a single gatling.
Yeah, gotta sell this thing...
To use it properly, I needed a frame that actually worked, plus new armaments suited to my style. That meant I needed some credits.
I wasn't obsessed with piloting the Nexus right now, but that's why I was browsing the request broker site. To operate solo going forward, I needed gear.
That last request was a total breeze.
A Nexus did intrude, but the pilot didn't even have a proper access port—just mob-level trash. Pay was equally lame, though.
This time, credits were the goal, so I filtered the searches: minimum reward 200,000 credits.
To snag decent weapons and a frame, it'll cost a fortune—not that much, really.
Higher difficulty than last time, maybe. But I hated easy missions anyway, so no complaints. I wasn't climbing into a Nexus just to farm safe cash.
Filtering through the broker listings, I finally found a decent one.
Prevent New Weapon Launch
🎁 Reward: 300,000 Credits
Just as the name said: halt the enemy's new weapon activation. Details would come via email upon acceptance. Pay at 300k—way above my filter, and it didn't look too tough. Good enough to shake off the rust, so I accepted.
That afternoon, an email arrived from the client. It contained a briefing video.
I finished preps and messaged Hermann. He wouldn't gripe about me handling this solo anymore. I'd aced the last one—what could he say now?
Quick setup done, I manipulated the mobile hangar's control panel to set the destination.
Beep, beep!
But the error message made me frown.
Why won't it set?
Tried a nearby region. Same recognition error.
"SIF? What's wrong with this?"
[......]
I wanted error logs at least, but the panel kept glitching. Stared blankly at it for a bit, then decided to just take the Nexus alone. Hangar wouldn't move? Fine, fuel burn be damned.
Heading out with the Nexus, dragging it from the hangar...
"SIF? Open the hatch."
Hatch wouldn't budge. Frowning, I decided to force it.
Screeech—grabbed it by hand, metal crumpling with ear-grating noise.
Then SIF finally broke silence.
[Target area is hazardous. Recommend abstaining from operation.]
"What the hell..."
Today's full of weird crap. Hasn't been that long—SIF malfunctioning?
Ignoring to push out anyway, then the alarm finally blared.
[Destination set. For safety before departure, return Nexus to original position.]
"......"
No clue what's going on. But departure confirmed, so whatever—I shifted the Nexus back deep into the hangar.
As the briefing said, the op area was open plains. Distant mountain range hazy on one horizon, nothing else.
At the arrival point: prepped assault booster module, aka REB. Three massive triangular propellant tanks stacked, auxiliary thrusters attached.
Linked it to the Nexus inside the hangar, prepped for launch. Tanks so long, my Nexus had been exposed outside the whole time.
Let's see...
Open terrain let sensors reach farther than usual. Picked up a huge signal in the distance—matched client's beacon. That was Black Horse.
Approach meant instant fire. Key was closing fast before full defenses kicked in. REB would handle that.
Somehow it doesn't tip over.
Staring at the ridiculously rear-heavy tanks. How's the center of gravity even work? Shook off the stray thought, started slow acceleration.
Ashen wasteland faintly lit by booster flames. Then, airborne—and REB ignition.
VRROOOOOM!!
The Nexus charged full throttle toward Black Horse at the horizon's end.