Chapter 7: Welcome To Acer

Acer hung in space like a scarred jewel, its surface a patchwork of rust-colored desert and the glittering metal wounds of industrial exploitation. From the Meridian's observation deck, Nathan could see the massive mining complexes that dotted the planet's surface, towering scaffolding and processing facilities that reached toward the sky like mechanical forests. Smoke and chemical haze rose from a dozen different extraction sites, creating brown smudges against the planet's thin atmosphere.

"Looks like they've been busy," Ilson said, joining Nathan at the viewport.

"Busy is one way to put it," Kessler replied, studying her data tablet. "According to the geological surveys, Acer's rare earth deposits are some of the richest ever discovered. The mining operations have expanded by four hundred percent in the last two years."

Nathan traced one of the metallic scars with his finger against the transparisteel. 

The largest feature on the planet's surface was Nyulassy City, a sprawling metropolis of gleaming towers and orderly districts of concentric circles that seemed to have been dropped onto the desert like a piece of modern art. Named after the civil engineer who'd designed the original colonial infrastructure, the city was a testament to UNSC planning and resources. But from orbit, it looked less like a civilian settlement and more like a fortress, all clean lines and defensive positions, with the clear geometric patterns of military organization.

"That's where we're heading," Kessler said, pointing to a section of the city where the buildings were clearly marked with UNSC insignia. "Joint Operations Base Nyulassy. Military command for the entire sector."

"Joint operations?" Nathan asked.

"UNSC and colonial administration," Kessler replied, reading from her briefing materials. "Though given the funding sources, it's pretty clear who's really in charge."

The Meridian's approach to Acer took them over several of the mining complexes, and Nathan got his first close look at the scale of the operations. Each facility was a small city in itself, with massive excavation equipment that carved geometric patterns into the planet's surface. Refineries belched smoke and steam into the atmosphere, while transport vehicles moved in endless streams between extraction points and shipping facilities.

"Jesus," Ilson whistled. "No wonder the Liberation Front is pissed off. They're strip-mining the whole planet."

An hour later, they were strapped into acceleration couches as the Meridian descended through Acer's atmosphere. The ship's hull groaned under the stress of atmospheric entry, and Nathan watched through the small porthole as the planet's surface rushed up to meet them. The landing approach took them directly over Nyulassy City, and he could see the urban sprawl spreading out below, residential districts, commercial centers, and the massive military complex that dominated the city's eastern quarter.

The Meridian touched down at a military spaceport that could have accommodated a dozen ships its size. Through the viewport, Nathan could see ground crews already moving toward their ship, along with the distinctive shapes of UNSC military vehicles. Everything was efficient, organized, and somehow sterile in a way that made Nathan think of a well-run prison.

"Welcome to paradise," Mora said as they gathered their gear. His tone carried the kind of forced enthusiasm that suggested he was trying to convince himself as much as anyone else.

The debarkation process was crisp and professional. Ground crews offloaded their personal equipment while specialized teams began the process of extracting the Titan Frames from the ship's cargo holds. Nathan watched through a hangar window as Ironwake was carefully lifted from its restraints and transferred to a mobile transport platform.

"Beautiful machine," Riley said, joining him at the window. "First time seeing yours outside of training?"

"First time it's going into real combat," Nathan replied.

"Nervous?"

"Terrified," Nathan admitted. "But trying not to show it."

Riley smiled. "Good. That means you're smart enough to know this isn't a game."

They were met at the debarkation terminal by a tall man in a UNSC Colonel's uniform whose face looked like it had been carved from desert stone. His name tag read "HARRISON," and his handshake had the callused firmness of someone who'd spent years in combat zones.

"Welcome to Acer," Colonel Harrison said, though his tone suggested he found their presence more inconvenient than welcome. "I'm your local commander, and I'll be honest with you, I don't expect most of you to last more than a month out here."

Nathan exchanged glances with his teammates. This wasn't exactly the confidence-building speech they'd been expecting.

"Sir?" Mora asked, clearly taken aback.

"You heard me, Cadet. This isn't the Promise of Iron, and this sure as hell isn't a training exercise. The Liberation Front has been escalating their operations for months, and they've gotten very good at killing UNSC personnel." Harrison's expression was grim. "I've briefed four different cadet groups in the past six months. Maybe a third of them are still operational."

"What happened to the others?" Kessler asked.

"Some got smart and requested transfers. Others got dead. A few just broke under the pressure." Harrison turned and began walking toward the base interior. "Follow me. We'll get you situated, and then you can see what you're really up against."

The base was a mixture of permanent structures and prefabricated modules, all connected by covered walkways that provided protection from Acer's harsh sun and frequent dust storms. Nathan noticed that every building had reinforced walls and that security checkpoints were positioned at regular intervals. This wasn't a peacekeeping base, it was a fortified position in enemy territory.

"The locals here built this city with UNSC funding and engineering support," Harrison continued as they walked. "In exchange, we get basing rights and protection of colonial interests. It's a good deal for everyone, as long as the Liberation Front doesn't decide to make trouble."

"And they're making trouble?" Danny asked.

"They're making war," Harrison replied bluntly. "Started with protests and sabotage, graduated to hitting supply convoys, and now they're actively hunting our patrol units. Three weeks ago, they took out an entire squad of veteran pilots in less than ten minutes."

They reached a briefing room where a large holographic display showed a tactical map of the Acer system. Red markers indicated known Liberation Front activity, blue markers showed UNSC positions, and yellow markers represented civilian settlements and mining operations. There were a lot more red markers than Nathan had expected.

"Your job," Harrison said, "is to protect civilian infrastructure and maintain security for mining operations. Standard peacekeeping protocols apply, minimum necessary force, protection of non-combatants, all the usual rules of engagement you learned in training."

"What about the Liberation Front?" Riley asked.

"What about them? They're terrorists who are interfering with legitimate colonial operations. You stop them from doing that." Harrison's tone suggested this should be obvious. "Questions?"

Nathan raised his hand. "Sir, what can you tell us about reports of an ace pilot operating in this area?"

Harrison's expression darkened. "Where did you hear about that?"

"Ship's crew mentioned it during transit. Said there were stories about a single Titan Frame that's been hitting UNSC forces."

"There are always stories," Harrison said dismissively. "Combat stress, equipment failures, poor training, lots of reasons why engagements go badly. I wouldn't put too much stock in pilot chatter."

But Nathan caught something in the Colonel's eyes, a flicker of something that might have been fear before the professional mask slammed back into place.

"Any other questions? No? Good. Get some rest. Tomorrow you start earning your pay."

The next morning, Nathan stood in the Titan Frame bay, looking up at Ironwake's imposing bulk. The machine stood twelve meters tall, its gray and blue armor scarred from training exercises but still radiating the kind of lethal authority that made Nathan's pulse quicken. Three years of training had led to this moment, stepping into a real war machine and taking it into actual combat.

"Neural interface check," the technician said, handing Nathan the familiar headset. The device looked deceptively simple, a mesh of fiber-optic cables and neural sensors that would create a direct link between his brain and the Titan Frame's systems.

Nathan slipped the headset on, feeling the familiar tingle as the interface synced with his nervous system. Ironwake's HUD flickered to life in his peripheral vision, displaying system status and weapon readouts.

"AI core online," the technician reported. "You're linked to tactical system designation 'Marcus-Seven.'"

The AI's voice was crisp and emotionless when it spoke through the neural link. "All systems nominal. Weapons ready. Awaiting pilot input."

Nathan had worked with dozens of different AI cores during training, but they were all the same, sophisticated tactical computers that could provide information and analysis, but lacked anything resembling personality. They were tools, not companions.

"Plasma blade system charged and ready," Marcus-Seven reported. "Main repeater loaded with standard ammunition. Rocket pods armed and seeking targets."

Nathan climbed into Ironwake's cockpit, a cramped space surrounded by control systems and displays. The pilot's seat was designed to interface with his suit's own sensors, creating multiple layers of connection between human and machine. When he activated the full neural link, the Titan Frame's body became an extension of his own.

In the bay next to him, Kessler was running through her own pre-flight checks with Nightingale's Song. Her Frame was bulkier than Nathan's, designed for close combat and defensive operations. The machine's right arm ended in a massive battering ram that could punch through reinforced walls, while its left arm carried a shield large enough to protect against heavy weapons fire.

"Radar scrambler online," Nightingale's Song's AI reported in the same emotionless tone. "Explosive ram charged. Shield systems at full power."

"How's it feel?" Nathan asked over their comm system.

"Like wearing armor made of tank," Kessler replied. "Slow as hell, but I could probably walk through a building if I had to."

Ilson's Frame, Skybolt, was the most specialized of the three. Built for reconnaissance and long-range engagement, it was lighter and faster than the others but carried the most devastating weapon, a rail rifle that could punch through armor at ranges measured in kilometers.

"Target acquisition system ready," Skybolt's AI announced. "Rail rifle charged. Secondary armament loaded."

"This feels different from training," Ilson said, his voice tight with anticipation. "Real weapons, real targets."

"Real consequences," Nathan added.

Their first mission was a convoy escort, straightforward and routine, according to the briefing. Three vehicles carrying mining equipment and supplies to a facility about fifty kilometers from Nyulassy City. Their job was to provide overwatch and respond to any Liberation Front activity in the area.

The convoy consisted of two heavy cargo haulers and an escort vehicle, all driven by civilian contractors who seemed more annoyed than worried about the need for military protection.

"Overwatch team, this is Convoy Leader," the lead driver's voice crackled through their comm system. "We're loaded and ready to move. Try to keep up."

Nathan activated Ironwake's external speakers. "Copy, Convoy Leader. We'll be maintaining formation at five hundred meters. Call out any problems."

"Will do, handsome," a different voice said, female, with a slight accent. "Haven't heard your voice before. You new?"

Nathan felt his cheeks warm despite himself. "Uh, yes ma'am. First mission."

"Well, don't worry about it, sweetheart. We'll take good care of you."

Over the comm, Nathan heard Kessler make a sound that might have been a snort of disgust. "Focus on the mission," she said tightly.

"Roger that," Nathan replied, studiously avoiding any further conversation with the convoy.

They moved out from Nyulassy City as the sun climbed toward its zenith, Acer's twin suns casting harsh shadows across the desert landscape. The convoy's route took them through terrain that had been carved up by mining operations, vast open-pit excavations that left gaping scars in the planet's surface.

"Shit, I guess I wasn't far off." Ilson said as they passed one particularly massive excavation site. "They really are strip-mining the whole planet."

"It's efficient," Mora's voice cut in over the squadron channel. His team was providing rear guard, following the convoy at a distance. "Extract the resources, build the infrastructure, create jobs for the colonists. Everyone wins."

"Except for the people who were here first," Nathan said.

"The Liberation Front chose violence over negotiation," Mora replied. "That's on them."

Nathan was about to respond when he noticed something on the horizon, thick columns of black smoke rising from what looked like a settlement. "Convoy Leader, what's that smoke ahead?"

"Old business," the lead driver replied. "Nothing you need to worry about."

"What kind of old business?"

"The kind that happens when people don't cooperate with legitimate authority," the driver said, his tone suggesting the conversation was over.

As they drew closer to the smoke, Nathan could make out the remains of what had once been a small settlement. Buildings reduced to blackened ruins, vehicles overturned and burned, the patterns of destruction that spoke of military action rather than random violence.

"Convoy Leader, was there an engagement here recently?"

"Last week. Liberation Front was using the settlement as a supply depot. Had to be cleaned out."

Nathan's unease was growing. The destruction looked systematic, thorough in a way that suggested this hadn't been a firefight but a deliberate demolition.

"Kess, can you get detailed scans of the area?" he asked over their private channel.

"Already on it," she replied. Nightingale's Song's sensors were designed for close combat, but they were also capable of detailed analysis of battlefield conditions.

Nathan watched his HUD as Kessler's data streamed across the tactical display. Building layouts, damage patterns, chemical residue from explosives and weapons fire. But it was the biological readings that made his blood run cold.

"Nathan," Kessler's voice was tight with barely controlled emotion. "I'm reading organic material in those ruins. A lot of it."

"Weapons residue?"

"Negative. Biological returns. Human biological returns."

The implications hit Nathan like a physical blow. The settlement hadn't just been destroyed, it had been destroyed with people still inside it. Civilians. Non-combatants.

"How many?" he asked quietly.

"I can't get exact numbers, but... dozens. Maybe more."

Nathan felt sick. This wasn't the aftermath of a military engagement, this was a massacre.

"Convoy Leader," he said, trying to keep his voice steady, "were there civilian casualties in the engagement here?"

The comm was silent for a long moment. Then: "Like I said, kid. Old business. Nothing you need to worry about."

But Nathan was worrying about it. A lot.

The rest of the convoy mission passed in tense silence. Nathan found himself scanning every piece of terrain, every building, every shadow for signs of what they might be walking into. This wasn't peacekeeping. This wasn't protection of legitimate colonial interests.

This was something much darker.

When they finally delivered the convoy to its destination and received orders to return to base, Nathan felt a relief that was mixed with growing dread. They'd completed their first mission successfully, but instead of feeling accomplished, he felt like he'd glimpsed something horrible lurking beneath the surface of their orders.

"So," Ilson said as they made their way back to Nyulassy City, "anyone else thinking this isn't quite what they advertised?"

"It's war," Mora replied over the comm. "War is ugly. But it's necessary."

"Necessary for what?" Nathan asked.

"For maintaining order. For protecting legitimate interests. For keeping people like us safe."

Nathan looked back at the smoke rising from the destroyed settlement and wondered exactly who was being kept safe, and from what.

As they approached the base, his mind was already working on the conversation he needed to have with his team. Away from Mora's squad, away from official channels, away from anyone who might consider their questions inappropriate.

Because Nathan was beginning to suspect that the real war wasn't the one they'd been sent to fight, it was the one they were being used to cover up.