Chapter 1: An Ode To Fallen Nemo(OFN) Part 1 – The 117th Cadet Core

Sabban Vint, a young man in his early twenties, well built with crew cut black hair - Shuffled around in his seat expectantly as he stared out the porthole windows of a small IAFS shuttle.
 Out of said window he observed the passage of a large warship's bow, that ship was to be his new home for the foreseeable future; With it's large oval shape and duo of protruding ends giving it the appearance of gaint silver-green eye, none other then the official fleet flagship - The Tradech.

The launch, a form of small space bus one might say, was currently filled with just seven people - Those being the two pilots to the fore of the craft and his four comrades in arms.
 As he continued to stare out, he watched as they closed in on the massive hangar-bay doors of the Tradech - The vast emptiness of space now replaced with the tall metallic walls of the ship's main-interior deck.

Coming to a halt the launch set itself down gently a little inside that doorway, which in turn now closed, sealing the room and making air breathable once more.

The small spacecraft's doorway to the front, opened automatically and a small set of steps expanded out from there.
 One by one the five young men and women each exited down these steps - A couple of them offering thanks to the pilots as they passed, whom in turn offered seemingly apathetic nods to the youths.

Now standing out in the cavernous room, the group of rookies began glancing around each other, the room was quickly filling with people (Who returned now that it was safe once more not to be wearing any breathing equipment).
Following their example Sabban unclipped his own helmet to get a better look at his surroundings;
 "That's the new Casnel ain't it?"
 He exclaimed pointing over towards the large imposing figure of a blue and grey mech to one corner of the hanger.

Beside him the tallest of their group, a muscle-bound young woman by the name of Mili Sanju spoke up;
"--and that over there's the special prototype right?" She opted indicting to a gleaming golden mech of similar humanoid stylings to the blue-grey machine.
 Mili's strong frame was no coincidence, indeed back at the academy she had been known as a bit of a 'gym freak' giving any one of the male students a run for their money in terms of fitness.

"..That one to the back is the Methuss.. it's an experimental transformable Vijaik.." Said a quiet voice to the left side of Sabban.
 The voice rather fittingly belonged to Zori Hogei, the shortest of the group, with shoulder length black hair and large inquisitive eyes.
She had made up for what she lacked in stature by consistently scoring the highest on every test back in training.

Vijaiks and Casnels, the machines created over a decade ago during the first true war to ever take place in space. The Vijaik's with their ease of control and numerical advantages had all but superseded conventional planes & tanks - While the Casnels, though rare, were considered one-man-fleets of unrelenting power.
 These were the machines they now looked at;
 'The machines; - Sabban mused to himself - 'We've been training for!'

"Wait really? I thought it was some sorta' captured suit, dont'cha think it looks like a giant beetle?"
 Insisted the jovial voice of Ennya Zwan - By far the youngest of the group, the scruffy mop-haired youth had got into the pilot course via the fast track scheme at the tender age of just 17.
 A few months later here he was still acting the class clown.

Sabban couldn't help but grin remembering how shocked Ennya had been to get the news that they would be heading for the Tradech.
 Well, in truth they had all been pretty surprised, just barely out of the training they had expected nothing more than to be put on regimental guard duty for IAFS base's back on Bannerman or sent to be test pilots for Bayley Mechanics - But instead the order had come through for the five of them to head to this very ship, to be its newest squadron of pilots.

Speaking of their fifth member, standing a little ahead of the rest of the group, Miss.Shasha Niju decided it was her time to cut in;
 "Alright you lot, that's enough chatter, we are not here as cadets on field trip remember"
She said, sternly giving Ennya and Sabban a glare in particular.

For her part Shasha had been the class leader back in training, she placed second in most technical and practical tests making her the most well rounded pilot of the group.
 Her abilities along with Sabban's own during mock battles - Had garnered them both the immediate rank of 'Petty Officer' upon graduation, with the rest of their cohort at the base level of 'Crewmen'.

Shasha had continued to fulfil her role as group leader even after they had departed for their new assignments.
 Second tallest of the group she stood at an impressive 5,8 foot (Just below Mili's 6), her blond hair tied neatly in a ponytail, she had impressive posture and a befitting general air of a 'young officer' about her.
 
"That's great and all, oh my 'cap-it-ain' but I don't see much of a welcoming party."
 Sabban added a little mockingly.

Shasha's face grew characteristically indignant as she glanced around the hanger.
 The place had now fully filled with pilots, engineers and mechanics all going about repairs and inspections of the different mecha and weapons that surrounded them.
 A little ways in front of them they spotted a man float down in the minimal gravity from the cockpit of the ever gleaming 'Prototype Casnel'.
 He stopped at the base of it and turned to stare up at it, seemingly to make sure he'd fully completed his inspection of the impressive golden machine.

The man had somewhat long blond hair, a conspicuous pair of sunglasses lay atop his visage and a bright red jacket over his shoulders.
 "Hey that's not-" Ennya started but before he could finished Shasha marched forwards hailing towards the man in red.

The others quickly followed, wanton not to get left behind.
 "Lieutenant Commander Ceathair Sir! General-Purpose-Mech-Squadron 117 reporting for duty Sir!" Shasha borderline bellowed, while clapping her boots together and performing the sharpest of salutes.

'Ceathair' for his part glanced over at the sudden intrusion and raised an eyebrow as though trying to remember if he should know the group of young people saluting him.
 "Oh! The new Nemo pilots." He exclaimed clasping his hands together triumphantly;
 "Sorry to disappoint but you've got the wrong deck, you're looking for the second floor and what-not. If you report in there you should find someone with your instructions."
He said while gesturing a hand in the direction of the far side of the massive hanger-bay.

He grinned kindly and in a joking tone of voice continued - "Always good to see the next generation of bright-eyed heroes arriving for their first time eh? I best watch my back to keep up with you youngster!"
 Ceathair laughed allowed a little before coughing into his hand politely.
"Ahem, well you'd best get going then."

The group of pilots saluted and started to make their way across the room towards the elevator 'Ceathair' had pointed to.
 Once they were out of earshot they couldn't help but discuss the great IAFS ace's strange manner of speaking but before long their attentions drew distracted as they closed in on the elevator.
 It was to the rear of the large room, at the walls either side of it stood six Vijaik holding units, three filled with the bulky red and black Heavy-Duty-Vijaiks of the Tradech (The other three presumably belonging to the machines they had passed on the way in).

At the end of this path stood a massive Mecha elevator used to transport machines and cargo between the upper and lower hangers.
 Additionally next to that was a much smaller service lift for the use of personnel.

As they walked along Mili put on a visibly quizzical face - "Hey Zori aren't the Heavy-Vijaiks meant to be grey or black? Why're all these one's red?".
 Ennya was quick with an un-asked for reply; "Probably makes 'em three times faster right Zoe?".
 
Walking a little in front, Sabban caught sight of Shasha sighing at the rest of the group's overt eagerness.
 Zori for her part was the usual one whom had questions of this nature thrown at her - Her academic prowess always proceeding her; "..I-i don't think the colour red would make them go faster though.."
 She half mumbled quietly in response to Ennya's joke.

Finally reaching the elevator, Shasha urged them all to quiet down like some sort of school supply teacher might of and before Zori had the chance to properly explain the reasoning behind the irrelevancy of the mech's colour scheme, they instead ushered themselves into the small elevator.

The lift began slowly lowering, being frontless (With just a small hand-railing to prevent one from tumbling accidentally forwards) the squad soon caught sight of their destination.
 In front of them sprawled out a much smaller hanger bay with a similar layout of six mech holding areas but without any additional space for launch-bays such as the upper deck pertained.
 More pressingly, held in each one of the six chambers was a tall, gaunt blue and green Vijaik.

The slew of machines were all humanoid in nature, standing at an impressive height of more than nineteen metres - The head alone a metre tall and with a battle skirt-esk armour, wide berthed legs and an expressionless, eyeless face.

What stood before them was none other then the IAFS mass-production, general-purpose, Mech extraordinaire, 'The Neo'.
 From the back right hand corner of the room stood one in particular that had clearly been used frequently, with plenty of scorch marks and even bits of armour seemingly welded on across varies vital parts of the suit, as well as two highly prominent extra pieces of kilt armour stapled to the machine's waist.
 Furthermore as Sabban looked down at the machine he could of sworn the leg thrusters we're those of a far stronger suit, like the heavy-duty Vijaiks they had just pasted - Rather than those of its sister designs.

As for the design of the other five machines, they all glistened brightly, the green paint looked fresh and it seemed apparent to the rookie pilots that they stood in the presence of five brand new machines.
 Sabban could even of sworn he faintly caught the scent of fresh paint in amongst the on-slough of oil and grease that seemed to pre-emanate throughout the ship.

With the elevator settled they trooped off and began to once more take in their surroundings - The room was far more dimly lit then the upper deck had been and although the ceilings where suitable high, the room felt narrow.
 Meanwhile where the main hanger had been teeming with workers, Sabban could only see two engineers in their distinctly blue attire, working on the battered mech at the back of the room.

Next to them was a third man wearing what often passed as the uniform of the IAFS pilots, a plain brown pair of overalls with a sooty half-jacket over the top.
 One of the engineers nudged the pilot who in turn looked over to see the new visitors.
 While most of the others were busy ogling the mechs around them - Sabban could of sworn he saw the pilot mutter the words '--5th group eh--' under his breath, though at his distance it was hard to lip read the words.

With a polite cough from Shasha informing the others to stop messing around and fall in-line, she once more stepped forward, saluted smartly and proclaimed that they were reporting for duty as instructed.
 The pilot she had called out to, had by now sauntered his way across to them. His posture was lax, his medium length, greying hair wavy and poorly tended to.

With him now standing closer it was clear to see his overalls too were poorly kept, covered in oil stains and the like.
 He scratched absentmindedly at one ear and the back of his sparse hair, as Shasha gave introductions to each member of the team and their respective military rankings.

When she finished the man waved a hand loosely in the air as something of a half hearted salute before looking closely at each recruit;
 "That'll be enough of the 'Sir' spiel, you said you're a petty officer ya? Well so am I so no need for all da' formality.
Oh- And I guess, welcome to Hell kids",
 He said groggily, finishing his almost slurred and ominously clichéd sentence with an unenthusiastic yawn.

"..Umm excuse me si- I mean petty officer.. if you are not in charge then who is?.."
 Zori asked while standing reservedly in Mili's tall shadow.

The aged man stared across at Zori with something akin to, but not quite, contemp.
 In fact now that Sabban's focus was squarely on the older 'gentleman' he started to question just what age he actually was, his appearance from afar had made him look like someone in their late 50s or even early 60s, but up close he wasn't so sure.

"Listen up little lass, all of you for that matter, 'cause I'll only say it once ya hear?
 This here ship is the Tradech and on it there be three types a' pilots, you got the lads at the top, the supposed 'Magi' like that Davrim boy, they're led mostly by 'Lieutenant Commander Ceathair' when he's 'ere that is. Then there's Lt.Apolly's bunch in the Heavy-Duty Vijaiks.
 Apolly's sound enough but he has his hands full just trying to keep his own lads alive so don't expect much in the way of 'orders' from the supposed leader of 'Heavy-Duty-Team.'"

He paused his ramblings briefly at this stage and begin shuffling around in his overall pockets;
 "Then there's us a'ight? We're the grunts, the expendables, pawns, whatever way you 'wanna slice it ya hear?
 Our orders, if you can call 'em that, will come from the bridge or Ceathair or even the Magi boy if he's got some busy work needs 'doin.
Heck alot of my orders come from that Van-Sheen woman and she isn't even assigned to this ship."

"Point I'm trying to get at is no cares about us 'k? Keep ye're heads down and your machine maintained during the quiet moments.
 When in battle stick together best ya can, always hold your shield far enough away from you so that when it explodes - And trust me it will explode - At-least it doesn't damage your camera's, and never - Ever - Try to be a hero, we aren't paid enough for that sort of crap."
  
With these final words of his tirade conveyed, the old pilot had started sorting out a pile of trinkets he had recovered from the pocket he'd earlier been searching.
 The pile consisted of a large number of keys, sub divided into groups of two on a small binding ring.

One key was a slim rectangular block object, with a USB-esk end and a number ranging from '26' up to '30' on it, the second key was an exceedingly old fashioned looking, foe-brass locker key.
 Of that pile he first untangled the odd-set-out, consisted of a near identical locker key as well as three of the USB types, one with the number '3' on it in smudged lettering, the other two had a faded 'States Union' logo embossed on them with a white background (rather then the light green of the rest and with no other visible markings).

Alongside these were a number of miscellaneous other keys. He put this odd set back into his pocket before gradually tossing the other 5 identical loops out one at a time to those before him.

"Those'll get you into the lockers in the changing room for ye're space suits, same key will also match a valuable's locker in ya digs, got it?
 The others all correspond to these here mecha. The 'V-MBT-Neo M-Variant' - Better known as the 'Nemo', or better yet the 'Dead pilot walking'...You can sort who gets which one by yourselves, they're all pretty much the exact same."
 With those final disconcerting words and the keys effectively handed out, the grizzled pilot turned to walk away.

"Err Mr? You didn't tell us your name... Or what we are meant to be doing right now - Sir?"
 Sabban would normally of thought it amusing to hear Shasha ask this question in such an unconfident manner but he had to admit it was the same query's that ran through his own mind.

The older pilot stopped in his tracks and sighed laboriously, turning back around on the spot he stared Shasha straight in the eyes as he responded to her questions;
 "I told ya it's not my damn job to boss y'all around, the names Petty Officer Kolme Nilas and you can think again if you 'recon I'm gonna concierge you to your rooms or take you on a pleasant guided tour around the ship as if this were the hotel Royal back on Bannerman ya hear?
 Pilots sleep in room 2B, I'm sure a fine body of men like yourselves can at-least find your way there by yourselves without getting too lost."

****

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The Quintet somewhat dejectedly made their way back along the under hanger towards the lift. A heavy silence had replaced their early enthusiasm,
 "Not really what I expected from our new boss." Ennya sighed.

"Relax, he's probably just hazing us, like the good old days back at camp."   
 Sabban said patting his younger friend heartily on the back.

"..are we really just p-pawns.." Zori muttered darkly to herself as Sabban continued to assault Ennya's back.
 
"Heck no, after all everyone knows the Nemo's a... a- a? A state of the line machine!"
 Mili affirmed in an attempt to raise her friend's spirits.

"Mili's right Zori, enemy Ogres can't even use multiple energy weapons at the same time right?" Sabban added.
 As he did Mili shot him a thankful smile, Zori had a bad habit of getting easily stressed but changing the topic to the technical details of one machine or another was the sure way to snap her out of it.

As hoped her face brightened as she proceeded to explain the specific details of how Sabban was quite correct in his assertion about the Nemo's superior capabilities.
 Mili smiled contently at seeing her friend's worries alleviated, making it clear that such worries hadn't even crossed her own mind.

For as long as he had known them, Mili and Zori had been something of a cliched partnership of best friends.
 In spite of the obvious room for 'The brains and the brawn' jokes, it would take a brave individual indeed to try and mock Zori's stature, at the risk of Mili's wrath.

"That's nice and all but we're not gonna be much of a team with a leader like that old northern fart!"
 Ennya uttered breaking back into the conversation with his usual boisterous tone.

They had reached the foot of the elevator at this stage and stood around it simply chatting; "Northern like up near Ivernia? I was thinking he sounded more like someone from the Southern isles than that."
 Sabban interjected, trying to lighten the mood again.

Shasha who had seemed lost in thought till now, was the one to break this small talk;
 "No matter about him, if he won't lead us then I will!" She proclaimed boldly.

"First order of business is getting rid of these bags before we take a proper look at our new posts, he said the room code was 2B correct? Well we can most certainly show him by finding it and without asking directions at that!"
 With her decree made on behalf of the whole squad, they collectively re-boarded the lift and set off in search of their new accommodation.

****

A few days later and Sabban found himself blinking rapidly as he took in the situation. Around him energy-fire jettisoned itself louse in all directions like stray lightning bolts, against a backdrop of seemingly innocuous twinkling stars.
 His hands he found to be sweating against the metal control grips of his machine, his nose filled with the vapid smell of hydraulic fluid - His eyes locked on the dozens of varying screens before him.

For all his harsh words, Kolme had been right about the pace of battles when you launched from the battleship Tradech.
 Himself (In Nemo 27) and Ennya (Nemo 29) had been ordered by the ship's bridge officers to simply 'defend' the ship's aft frontage - While Zori (N28) and Mili (N30) did much the same at the opposite end of the vessel.

As for Kolme(3) and Shasha(26), they had been picked seemingly at random by Davrim and Lt.Commander Ceathair to help intercept an incoming enemy mecha team.
 The battle had begun only a few minutes ago when the helmsman of the Tradech had spotted a TSU-s (The same extremist faction of ' The States Union' that IAFS had pledged to stand against) ship called the 'Egypt' which apparently the Tradech's crew were all well acquainted with from previous sorties.

It had launched its machines in response to the Tradech firing off a volley of shots from its main cannons.
 The Egypt's opening gambit had consisted of 4 Mleue type mechs - Which Sabban would of described as a navy-blue machine with a rigid wing-like structure to its back, a triangular head section, and claws for hands.

Alongside these was a whole boat-load of TSU's own general use 'Nemo equivalent', the 'Orge'.
 A green machine that looked conspicuously like the rather famous Vijaik Mk2 of the First War a decade ago, and apparently housed both TSU and former Abhailen-Revolutionary-Forces technologies from that war.
 Visually it was a far more stocky looking machine then the Nemo, painted in deep greens with spiked shoulders and a single roaming 'eye' in its helmet.

There was apparently such a great number of these Ogres that the bridge crew had claimed they couldn't pick a precise figure.
 With these dire odds in play the ship's two high-spec Casnels had taken the two members of the Nemo team to intercept the enemy's lead suit - Apparently commanded by a fierce-some pilot named "Akok".

The rest of the enemy force had split into three other groups, two consisting of a single Mleue with two escort Ogres - And a third group of just a duo of Ogres - Which currently appeared to be bottling its way straight for Sabban and Ennya's current position.

The Heavy-Duty-Vijaik Team had followed after one of those other Mleue Mech teams so it was clear to Sabban that failure could mean the sinking of their home with no reinforcements likely.
 He took a deep breath while studying his equipment, just like in the simulations he watched as the distance between him and the enemy machines gradually decreased, gaining ever closer to effective firing range.

He flicked open the communication switches to talk to the bridge;
 "Two units at 11 o'clock, will move to intercept. Requesting AA batteries assist."

"Roger Nemo 27, Anti-Air Will Help At Next Available Opportunity." Came the vaguely static reply from bridge-officer 'Bull'.
 Muting his mike, Sabban wondered to himself what else could the Anti-Air guns actually be doing other then firing off in seemingly random directions, but quickly shock his head and turned his focus back to the job at hand;
"Ennya let them shoot first then return fire. I'll go for the one in back, you take the other one".

"Roger" Ennya replied quaintly, his usually chipper tone of voice far more mellow in the face of their first real taste of battle.

Sabban carefully moved the control clasps for the Nemo's right arm, positioning the shield carefully in front of himself, making sure to cover his mech's torso.
 With the other clasp he carefully raised his energy rifle, a long grey weapon capable of firing powerful superheated rounds of fire - As all the while the number on the distance calculator grew even smaller.

'3'

'2'

'1'

'0'.
The flurry of fire soared forth from the Ogre's weapons as they barred their way ever forward towards the ship - As planned Sabban's shield took the brunt of the volley and raising his weapon he pulled the control trigger.

Somewhat disappointingly he watched as his first two strikes missed, however with a little correction his third, fourth and fifth hit home.  Of those the first two bounced off the Ogre's own defences, then while it raised up its reloaded weapon to fire back once more, the fifth shot hit.

A plum of colourful smoke burst out and the marks it had readied, fired harmlessly off course.
 "Gotcha!" Sabban exclaimed, and as if on que a further volley set past him as the Tradech's AA-battery kicked to life and slammed into the damaged & floundering Ogre - Finishing it off in a brilliant explosion of fire.

Sabban quickly regained his composure glancing over to the other Ogre, unlike his it was still careering forward with renewed vigour.
 It had forgone shooting at the Nemos and instead begun blasted straight at the ship.
Glancing over to Ennya's Nemo, Sabban was relieved to see the thing still in one piece.
 "What happened Ennya?"

"Sorry Sab' their opening attack took out my cameras." Ennya replied despondently.
 Indeed it was clear that Ennya's shield had been blown to shreds and the front of his machine had become blackened, obscuring his view.

'Just as the old man Nilas predicted would happen...' Sabban pondered to himself.
 "You better get back to the ship then, don't worry about this I'll cover you."

With the informal order given to his temporarily set aback friend, Sabban pressed down hard on the control pedals of his Nemo and began altering the boosters in order to project himself towards the next enemy.
 He could now feel a sense of adrenaline flowing through him as he closed the distance between him and his new foe.

Now in position directly in the path of the Ogre, Sabban finished changing out his rifle's energy pack and passed it over to his right arm, the one with the mounted shield. In his left he unfurled his Arc-Staff from its resting place and activated the mighty weapon.
 A faint hissed accompanied its activation as the thin streams of the plasma cutter-like weapon began to surge along the length of telescopic metal-poles.

The Ogre rose it's weapon to clear a path, still not showing any signs of slowing, before realising it's energy was all wasted from shooting at Ennya's machine earlier.
 In an effort to correct this scuppered-situation it tossed aside the rifle and instead unsheathed a glowing Arc-Staff of its own.
A mere matter of moments passed before finally the two machines clashed.

Sabban felt his whole body shudder as the tremendous force of the fast moving mech collided blade first with his own machine.
 Their two staffs meeting violently in a sparkler of flames. The Ogre's momentum now lost, boosted backwards breaking the clash of their weapons - All while firing it's two helmet mounted machine guns.
 Sabban was quick to react, he surged forward with his own boosters, ducking under the line of machine gun fire and slashed upwards once more with his weapon.

The Ogre blocked again, now its turn on the defensive it swung back its off-hand then surged forward with some light assistance from its own thrusters.
 Sabban rose his shield, with the two mecha still locking blades - The Ogre's other fist smashed into the Nemo's shield with the grace of a prized boxer, sending fragments of debris from it which floated about them harmlessly in the vacuum of space.

The two mechs held still, stuck in this stalemate of blade on blade, fist on shield, for or a few moments before Sabban took his chance.
 The Nemo's shield was attached to the arm, leaving the hand above it free to hold a rifle - Furthermore it possessed the power to both keep its Arc-Staff ignited and fire its weapons all at once - These facts in mind Sabban had carefully positioned his rifle so that when the Ogre had collided with his shield, it had left the enemy mech's cockpit wide open.

Hesitating for only a passing moment, Sabban pulled the trigger.
 A colourful orange beam of light emerged from his weapon and then again out the back of the hapless enemy Ogre.
 The blast riddling straight through the cockpit, the machine flailed backwards, its Arc-Staff now deactivated, the hilt floating away helplessly alongside the rest of the stricken mech.

Sabban backed off knowing what would come next 'That was so easy...so easy to kill a man...' he thought grimly to himself while breathing heavily.
 Being a soldier he had of course known this was coming but yet the thought still invaded his mind - And as he watched the defeated green spiked shape of the Ogre float gradually further away - Its torso sparking dramatically until the whole thing exploded emphatically in an awesome burst of light - Sabban also couldn't help but think another thought to himself;
 'Was that guy another 'grunt', a grunt just like 'me'?'

Before he could lament this worrying thought any further he was rudely awoken by the Nemo's buzzing communications system:
 "Sabban, buddy can you hear me? It's Ennya, look behind you quick, I think the other's are in trouble!!"

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