En Route to Ground Zero
The investigation mission at the Ground Zero Reinforcement Lab was scheduled for a week later, so Hermann told me to rest in the meantime. As if I could.
I was strapped into my Nexus, running simulation battles. Adapting to the feel of the freshly overhauled machine, I thought, 'Who was the pilot coming along again?'
Definitely Renaissance. Not a name that stuck with me. But according to Hermann, he was a pilot teetering right on the edge of the rankings—precariously hanging in that borderline range. The external allies had apparently put some real effort into pulling him in for this mission. Big spending, he'd said.
"Since it's a joint op, you should at least exchange greetings before it starts. I'll send you his contact—hit him up when you have time."
I recalled Hermann's words as he introduced the pilot. I briefly opened the email from him with Renaissance's contact, but no urge to reach out hit me. It was just one mission and done—what was the point of small talk? I had no interest in mingling anyway, so I closed the email and turned back to the sim.
I dove back into the simulation battle when suddenly—ding!—an alert chimed.
> New message in inbox.
SIF's voice, synced with the Nexus data, prompted me. I opened the mail. One new addition to the inbox I'd just checked. Sender: Renaissance.
'Hitting me up first, huh.' Even if I had no plans to chat, looks like he was extending the invite.
I opened it with a blank expression. Inside was a single voice message.
Honest? Brutally so, maybe. At least he should work for the pay—that was the bare-minimum merc professionalism I'd held onto. But this guy lacked even that. How the hell had he survived gigs so far? His rep must be trash—would jobs even come his way?
'Nah, probably fine on normal runs. Anti-corp gig just killed his work ethic.'
I stared blankly at the blackened sim screen before snapping back to it. Whatever. Message or no, my attitude toward him wouldn't change.
The week flew by. I holed up in the Nexus; Hermann handled Nest's key ops. Then, on the morning snow started falling, I climbed aboard for his briefing.
"This mission's target: the investigation of the old Gu-se-dae Reinforcement Human lab we've been watching for ages."
An image popped up onscreen. The lab's exterior, from years back by the timestamp.
"This facility was an Olivia Bio-owned reinforcement human lab and Nexus pilot training center. About two years ago, signals cut out. Probably destroyed. Not uncommon, so no one batted an eye."
I nodded. Pilot training centers were basically corp military bases. Raided and wrecked by rivals? Standard stuff.
"Good for us. Key corp asset down meant data jackpot up for grabs. Treasure trove abandoned. We waited for the area to quiet, sent scout teams to secure intel."
Hermann's tone darkened.
"That's when problems started. No scouts entered and returned. Thought maybe internal threats, so we sent drones and unmanned units multiple times. They all crapped out far from the target."
They suspected jamming signals. Tried remote camera observation too.
"This is from that footage. See it?"
Noise corrupted parts of the image, like a glitched photo.
"Not sure exactly what's happening, but something's clearly blocking external interference. Wasn't urgent, didn't want more losses. Felt off. So we shelved it, looked away."
But now with me, time to dive in personally.
"Dangerous op. Intel's thin. That blackout-zone jamming? No amateur tech. No clue what horrors they'd stash in a dead facility... but"
He cleared the images.
"That tight security means something's there. I'm counting on you."
Curiosity struck. "What if the corps staged it to hide secrets?"
"We checked that angle. Dug deep—no interest from Olivia Bio or any corp in a defunct ruin."
"Olivia Bio too?" Their own site, radio silent, and they don't care?
"They swarmed it early on. Grabbed what they could, moved on. Noise didn't start right away—kicked in when we geared up to probe."
"Got it."
Corps were out. I nodded. "Heading out."
"Come back safe. Sending rendezvous coords with your allied pilot."
The mobile hangar began rising into the sky.
Rendezvous was in a mountain range dozens of km from the target. Edge of the noised-out observation radius. Low latitude here—rain instead of snow. Disembarking the hangar, a bulky machine from the sim waited below. Nexus travel from here on.
"First time seeing you in the flesh. Got my contact, right? Anyway... let's do this."
With that, Renaissance and I crossed the mountains toward the target.
The lab, deep in the peaks, looked fortress-like in photos. No exaggeration calling it a military site. And it went dark overnight.
'What the hell's waiting?'
The trek was noisy. I stayed silent, but Renaissance chattered nonstop over comms, like his mouth itched.
"How was Scarab? Met him once—'elite' ain't hype. Movements like a monster! I bolted tail-between-legs. Guy's got a filthy temper too..."
Tone baiting me to brag. But I held stone-cold silent to the end.
Only after 20 minutes did Renaissance finally shut up.