Chapter 6: The UNSC Meridian

The UNSC Meridian was a ship built for war.

Nathan stood at one of the observation ports in the passenger section, watching the ship's massive bulk extend beyond his field of view. The Meridian was a heavy carrier, designed to deliver Titan Frames and their pilots anywhere in human space that needed the UNSC's particular brand of peacekeeping. Compared to the Promise of Iron, it was small, the station could have housed a dozen ships this size in its docking bays. But as a dedicated military vessel, the Meridian radiated focused lethality in every line of its armored hull.

Six Titan Frames were secured in the ship's belly, locked into specialized restraint systems that could handle the massive machines during near-FTL transit. Nathan had watched the loading process from the observation deck, feeling a mix of pride and nervousness as his Frame, designation Ironwake, was secured alongside the others. After three years of training, he was finally taking his machine into real combat.

The ship's corridors buzzed with controlled activity. Nathan passed maintenance technicians running diagnostics on ship systems, engineers checking the Titan Frame securing clamps, and marines who'd drawn security duty for the deployment. The Meridian's crew was professional and efficient, maybe forty people total, not counting the two cadet squadrons. Everyone had a job to do, and they did it with the quiet competence that kept military ships functioning in the void.

"Not bad for a rust bucket," Ilson said, appearing beside Nathan at the observation port. He'd been exploring the ship for the past hour, poking into maintenance bays and chatting with the crew. "The chief engineer says they retrofitted the Frame bays last year. Better stabilization systems, improved power coupling for the neural links."

"Worried about your setup?" Nathan asked.

"Always," Ilson replied with a grin. "These ship techs are good, but they're not my techs. I want to make sure they didn't mess with my calibrations."

Kessler joined them, carrying a data tablet loaded with mission files. "You two seen the mess hall yet? I hear they're serving dinner in twenty minutes."

"Please tell me it's better than station food," Nathan said.

"It's military transport food," Kessler replied. "So probably worse."

They made their way through the ship's corridors to the mess hall, a functional space with tables bolted to the deck and a serving line that dispensed pre-packaged meals. The three of them grabbed trays and found seats near the center of the room, where Squadron 4-Charlie was already eating.

David Mora looked up as they approached. "Mind if we join you?" Nathan asked.

"Sure," Mora replied, though his tone suggested it was more politeness than enthusiasm. "Riley, Danny, meet Squadron 7-Alpha."

Riley Webb was tall and lean, with short black hair and the kind of direct gaze that suggested she didn't suffer fools gladly. She wore her uniform with military precision, but when she smiled at Nathan's team, the expression seemed genuine.

"Heard you guys had an interesting training session with the Phantom simulation," she said. "Mora here lasted about fifteen seconds."

"Twenty-three seconds," Mora corrected, his pride clearly stung. "And that sim is rigged anyway. Nobody could actually move like that."

Danny Torres looked up from his meal, synthetic protein that had been shaped and flavored to resemble beef stew, though it fooled nobody. He was stocky and broad-shouldered, with calloused hands that spoke of manual labor before his military service.

"My kid sister could probably last longer than twenty-three seconds," Danny said with a grin that took the sting out of the words. "Course, she's eight and doesn't know when to quit."

"You have family back home?" Kessler asked.

Danny's expression softened. "Wife and two kids on New Brisbane. This deployment pays well enough to cover their school fees for the year."

Nathan found himself liking Danny immediately. There was something honest about a man who was upfront about his motivations.

"What about you guys?" Riley asked. "First real mission?"

"Same as you," Nathan replied. "Three years of training, and now we finally get to see if any of it was worth anything."

"Oh, it was worth it," a voice said from the next table over. A maintenance chief had been listening to their conversation. "You kids are going somewhere that'll test every bit of training you've had."

"Problems on Acer?" Ilson asked, his interest immediately engaged.

The maintenance chief glanced around, then leaned closer. "Look, I'm not supposed to talk about this, but we've been running supply missions to the Acer system for months. The stories coming back…" He shook his head. "There's something out there that's been tearing up UNSC squads like they're made of paper."

"Artificer technology?" Mora asked.

"Nobody knows for sure. But the pilots who make it back, they all tell the same story. Single Titan Frame, moves faster than anything should, surrounded by some kind of sensor-scrambling field. They're calling it an ace pilot, but the numbers don't add up. No human could pull the kind of G-forces this thing demonstrates."

Nathan felt a chill run down his spine. The Phantom simulation had been based on real combat data, but he'd assumed it was exaggerated for training purposes. If there really was something out there moving with that kind of impossible speed…

"How many casualties?" Kessler asked quietly.

"More than Command wants to admit," the maintenance chief replied. "Word is, they're sending you kids in because the regular squadrons are getting spooked. Fresh eyes, fresh training, maybe you'll see something the veterans missed."

The conversation died after that, each of them lost in their own thoughts. Nathan found himself thinking about Marcus, wondering if his brother had faced something like this mysterious ace pilot before he was declared missing in action.

After dinner, Ilson excused himself to check on his Titan Frame. "Ship techs are competent, but they're not miracle workers," he said. "I want to make sure my targeting systems are calibrated the way I like them."

"How long will that take?" Nathan asked.

"Hour, maybe two. Depends on what I find."

That left Nathan and Kessler alone in the mess hall as the evening shift began their duties. They moved to a quieter corner of the room, where large viewports showed the stars streaming past as the Meridian traveled through near-FTL space.

"Nervous?" Kessler asked.

"About the mission? Yeah, a little." Nathan was quiet for a moment. "That maintenance chief got me thinking about Marcus."

Kessler's expression grew serious. She'd known Marcus almost as well as Nathan had, they'd all grown up on the same station, after all. "You think he ran into something like this ace pilot?"

"Maybe. Or maybe he just got unlucky." Nathan stared out at the stars. "I keep thinking about that night we got the news."

The memory came back sharp, as clear as if it had happened yesterday instead of two years ago.

Nathan had been in his quarters when the comm unit chimed with an official UNSC transmission. His father answered it in the small living area, and Nathan heard his voice go from routine acknowledgment to devastating silence.

"I understand," his father had said finally. "Thank you for informing us."

Nathan found him sitting at the small table, staring at the official notification on his data pad. Missing in Action, Presumed Dead. Standard military language that somehow made the loss feel both official and unreal.

"Dad?"

His father looked up, and Nathan saw something break behind his eyes. "Your brother's not coming home."

They sat in silence for a long time after that. Nathan watched his father pour himself a drink from the bottle he kept for special occasions, then pour another, and another. By the time Nathan finally got him to bed, the bottle was empty and his father was mumbling apologies to a son who would never hear them.

Nathan couldn't sleep after that. He made his way through the station's corridors to one of the maintenance observation ports, where workers in space suits were performing routine repairs on a Titan Frame that had docked for service. The massive machine hung in the void like a metal giant, spotlights illuminating its armored bulk as technicians crawled over its surface.

"Nathan?"

He turned to find Kessler approaching, still in her nightclothes with a jacket thrown over them. Her hair was messed from sleep, and she looked younger than her eighteen years.

"Couldn't sleep either?" she asked.

"Got the news about Marcus."

She was beside him in an instant, her hand finding his shoulder. "Oh, Nathan. I'm so sorry."

They stood together watching the workers in silence. Finally, Nathan spoke.

"I'm going to join the UNSC."

"Nathan, no. You don't have to—"

"Yes, I do." His voice was quiet but firm. "Marcus believed in something worth fighting for. Worth dying for. I need to understand what that was."

"You could get yourself killed," Kessler said, her voice tight with emotion.

"Maybe. But I can't just stay here and fix ships for the rest of my life. Not when there's a war going on out there."

They argued for an hour, Kessler trying to talk him out of what she saw as a suicidal decision, Nathan explaining that he needed to do something meaningful with his life. Finally, she went quiet.

"If you're really going to do this," she said, "then I'm going with you."

"Kess, you don't have to—"

"Yes, I do." She turned to face him, her hazel eyes serious. "Someone needs to keep you alive long enough to figure out what you're really fighting for."

She kissed him on the cheek then, a soft touch that lingered for just a moment before she pulled away.

"Think about it," she said. "But don't think too long. Applications for the next academy class close in two weeks."

She left him standing at the viewport, one hand touching his cheek where she'd kissed him, watching the workers repair machines of war in the cold vacuum of space.

"You never told me you were planning to enlist until after I'd already applied," Kessler said, bringing Nathan back to the present.

"I was going to. But then you showed up at the recruitment office the day after I did." Nathan smiled at the memory. "The recruiter thought we'd planned it together."

"Maybe we did, in a way." Kessler was quiet for a moment. "Do you ever think about that night? About what might have happened if we'd both just stayed on the station?"

"Sometimes. But then I think about Marcus, and about all the people out there who need someone to stand between them and whatever's causing all this chaos." Nathan looked at her. "Do you regret it?"

"No," she said immediately. "But I'm scared about tomorrow. What if we're not ready? What if the training wasn't enough?"

Nathan reached across the table and took her hand. "Then we figure it out together. Same as we always have."

They sat like that for a while, hands linked across the table, watching the stars stream by. The mess hall had emptied around them, leaving them alone with their thoughts and memories.

"Nathan?" Kessler said finally.

"Yeah?"

"Whatever happens on Acer, whatever we find down there… promise me we'll look out for each other. All three of us."

"I promise."

Ilson returned an hour later, looking satisfied with his equipment checks. "Everything's running smooth," he reported. "Though the ship's engineers think I'm paranoid for double-checking their work."

"Better paranoid than dead," Nathan said.

"That's what I told them." Ilson settled into his chair. "So what did you two do while I was gone? Please tell me you didn't spend the whole time staring into each other's eyes."

"We talked about the mission," Kessler said, though Nathan caught the slight blush in her cheeks.

"Speaking of which," Nathan said, "I've been thinking about what that maintenance chief said. About this ace pilot that's been hitting UNSC forces."

"What about it?" Ilson asked.

"The gaps in our intelligence briefing. Vega mentioned that the Liberation Front had shown 'tactical sophistication beyond initial assessments,' but he didn't give us specifics. And now we're hearing about some kind of super-pilot that moves faster than human limits allow."

Nathan leaned forward, his voice dropping. "What if this isn't just about protecting mining operations? What if there's something else going on that Command doesn't want to tell us about?"

Kessler frowned. "You think they're sending us in blind?"

"I think they're sending us in with just enough information to do our jobs, but not enough to ask the right questions." Nathan looked at his teammates. "Promise me something. Once we get planetside, we keep our eyes open. All of us. If something doesn't feel right about this mission, we talk about it."

"Agreed," Ilson said immediately.

"Me too," Kessler added. "Though I hope you're wrong about this."

"So do I."

They were interrupted by the ship-wide communication system crackling to life.

"Attention all personnel, this is the bridge. We are approximately four hours out from Acer system. All Titan Frame pilots report to the hangar bay in thirty minutes for pre-deployment checks. Mission briefing will commence at 0600 ship time. That is all."

Nathan felt his stomach clench with a mixture of excitement and nervousness. After three years of training, countless simulations, and endless preparation, they were finally approaching their first real mission.

"Well," Ilson said, standing up and stretching, "time to see if all that training was worth anything."

"It was worth it," Kessler said firmly. "We're ready for this."

Nathan wished he felt as confident as she sounded. But as they made their way toward the hangar bay, he couldn't shake the feeling that they were flying toward something much more dangerous than a simple peacekeeping mission.

The maintenance chief's words echoed in his mind: *The stories coming back…*

Whatever was waiting for them on Acer, Nathan had the growing suspicion that their real education was about to begin.