Chapter 8: Breaking Point

Nathan walked through the UNSC base's main gate, his civilian clothes feeling strange after a day in military uniform. The base's security checkpoint was thorough but routine, a quick scan of his ID chip and a cursory weapons check before he was waved through into Nyulassy City proper.

As he passed through the military district, he couldn't help but notice how lightly guarded the starship berthing areas were. The Meridian sat on its landing pad like a sleeping giant, with only a pair of bored-looking sentries at the perimeter fence. For a military vessel carrying six Titan Frames and enough firepower to level a city block, the security seemed almost negligent.

"Interesting," Nathan thought. "File that away for later."

The transition from military base to civilian city was marked by a change in architecture and atmosphere. The UNSC facilities were all clean lines and functional design, built for efficiency and defense. But as Nathan moved deeper into Nyulassy City, the buildings became more varied, more human. Shop fronts with holographic advertisements, residential blocks with actual windows instead of reinforced viewports, and the constant bustle of people going about their daily lives.

The city was laid out in concentric rings, with the military base at the center and civilian districts radiating outward. Nathan caught a public transport hover-tram that would take him to the commercial district where he was meeting Kessler and Ilson. The tram was clean and modern, another testament to UNSC engineering and funding, but the passengers were a mix of military personnel and civilians that spoke to the city's dual nature.

Through the tram's windows, Nathan could see more of the city's scope. Residential towers that housed the engineers and technicians who kept the mining operations running. Shopping districts that catered to both military and civilian tastes. Parks and recreational areas that provided a illusion of normalcy in what was essentially a military occupation disguised as a city.

But there were subtle signs of the underlying tension. Security checkpoints at major intersections. UNSC patrol vehicles making regular circuits through civilian areas. And in the distance, the ever-present smoke from the mining operations that reminded everyone what this city really existed to protect.

The commercial district was a careful balance of military efficiency and civilian comfort. Restaurants, shops, and entertainment venues lined wide boulevards designed to accommodate both foot traffic and military vehicles. It was here that civilian contractors, off-duty military personnel, and the small population of actual colonists mixed in something approaching normal urban life.

Nathan found Big Jake's Authentic Texas Barbecue on a side street that was trying hard to look like a piece of old Earth. The building's facade was designed to resemble a frontier saloon, complete with wooden planks and swinging doors that were purely decorative, the actual entrance was a modern sliding portal that maintained the building's climate control.

"Welcome to Big Jake's Authentic Texas Barbecue, y'all!"

The man behind the counter was definitely not from Texas. He was tall and thin, with the pale complexion of someone who'd spent his life under Acer's filtered dome cities, but he'd committed fully to his chosen persona. A ten-gallon hat sat awkwardly on his head, and his accent was a theatrical drawl that would have made actual Texans wince.

"Y'all are military folk, ain't ya? Well, let me tell you, you've come to the right place for some genuine Earth-style barbecue!" He gestured grandly at walls covered in what Nathan assumed was supposed to be Texas memorabilia, longhorn skulls, cowboy boots, and old-fashioned firearms that probably came from a costume shop.

Nathan, Kessler, and Ilson found a booth in the back corner, away from the handful of other UNSC personnel scattered throughout the restaurant. The place was busy enough that their conversation wouldn't carry, but Kessler still leaned forward and spoke quietly.

"Keep your voice down," she murmured. "Half the people in here are probably from the base."

Nathan nodded and turned to Ilson. "We need to talk about what we saw yesterday. During the convoy mission."

"The smoke?" Ilson asked. "Yeah, that looked pretty bad. But these things happen in war zones, right?"

"It wasn't just smoke," Nathan said. "Kess, tell him what you found."

Kessler's expression was grim. "I ran detailed scans on the destroyed settlement. The biological readings…" She paused, glancing around to make sure no one was listening. "There were human remains in those ruins. Dozens of them."

Ilson's fork stopped halfway to his mouth. "What kind of remains?"

"The kind that suggests people were still in those buildings when they were destroyed," Nathan said quietly.

"Jesus." Ilson set down his fork entirely. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure," Kessler said. "And based on the weapons residue, it wasn't some accidental collateral damage. Someone hit that settlement with Titan Frame weapons. Deliberately."

Ilson was quiet for a long moment, processing the implications. "So what are you saying? That we're not really here for peacekeeping?"

"I'm saying that what we saw yesterday doesn't match what we were told about this mission," Nathan replied. "And I think we need to start asking some harder questions about what we're really doing here."

"Well, howdy there, kids!" Big Jake appeared at their table with a plate of what was supposedly authentic Texas brisket. "Y'all enjoying the food? Got some real mesquite flavor in there, just like they do back in Houston!"

"It's great," Nathan said, forcing a smile. "Thanks."

"Y'all look a little serious for folks eating barbecue," Jake said with theatrical concern. "Everything alright?"

"Just talking shop," Kessler said diplomatically.

"Well, shop talk's important, I reckon! Y'all keep safe out there, you hear? Acer's a dangerous place for good folks like yourselves."

He wandered off to bother another table, and Nathan turned back to his teammates. "So what do we do about this?"

"What can we do?" Ilson asked. "We're cadets. We follow orders."

"Even if those orders involve covering up war crimes?" Kessler asked.

Before anyone could answer, their comm units chimed simultaneously. Emergency deployment signal.

"Shit," Nathan muttered, checking the message. "Liberation Front attack on Mining Station Seven. All available units respond immediately."

They were in their Titan Frames within twenty minutes, racing across Acer's desert toward a mining facility that was sending increasingly desperate distress calls. The facility's security forces were reporting multiple hostile Titan Frames attacking the installation's primary extraction equipment.

"This is Squadron Leader Mora," David's voice crackled over the comm. "We're five minutes out from the target. What's the situation on the ground?"

"We've got three unknown Titan Frames attacking the primary excavation site," the facility's security chief replied. "They're not military grade, but they're doing significant damage to infrastructure."

"Rules of engagement?" Nathan asked.

"Lethal force authorized," came the reply from base command. "Protect civilian personnel and UNSC assets."

Nathan felt a familiar tightness in his chest. This was it, real combat, real enemies, real consequences.

The mining facility appeared on the horizon as a collection of industrial towers and excavation equipment, all connected by a web of conveyor belts and processing pipelines. Smoke was rising from several locations, and Nathan could see the attacking Titan Frames moving between the massive mining equipment.

"Contact," Ilson reported. "Three hostiles, bearing two-seven-zero. They're… wait."

"What is it?" Mora demanded.

"These aren't military Frames," Ilson said, his voice puzzled. "They look like construction units. Repurposed excavation equipment."

Nathan could see them now through Ironwake's sensors. The attacking machines were crude conversions of industrial equipment, excavation arms retrofitted with improvised weapons, mining suits modified with additional armor plating. They moved with the awkward gait of machines not designed for combat.

"Doesn't matter what they are," Mora said. "They're attacking UNSC assets. Take them down."

The engagement was brief and one-sided. The Liberation Front pilots were clearly untrained, their improvised weapons no match for military-grade Titan Frames. Nathan found himself hesitating before each shot, watching these desperate people trying to fight with mining equipment against war machines.

"This is Squadron Leader Mora to all units," David's voice was sharp with authority. "Cease fire. Targets neutralized."

Nathan looked at the wreckage of the three improvised Titan Frames and felt sick. These weren't the sophisticated terrorists they'd been briefed about. These were desperate people trying to protect their livelihood with construction equipment.

"Base, this is Squadron Leader Mora," David continued. "Mining Station Seven is secure. Liberation Front forces have been—"

His transmission was cut off by an urgent signal from base command.

"All units, be advised. We have a fast-moving contact approaching your position. Unknown configuration, extreme velocity. Possible hostile ace pilot. Recommend immediate caution."

Nathan felt his blood turn to ice. The mysterious ace pilot, Phantom.

"David," he said over the comm, "we need to talk about what just happened here. These weren't—"

"Not now, Brant," Mora replied tersely. "We have a potential contact incoming."

"That's exactly why we need to talk about it now," Nathan pressed. "We were told the Liberation Front had sophisticated tactics and equipment. What we just fought was—"

"Was an enemy force attacking civilian infrastructure," Mora cut him off. "End of discussion."

"But they were using construction equipment! These people aren't terrorists, they're—"

"Contact!" Riley's voice exploded over the comm. "Fast mover, bearing zero-nine-zero. Moving faster than anything should."

Nathan's sensors went crazy as something appeared on the edge of their detection range. It was moving at speeds that made his targeting computer struggle to track it, weaving between the mining facility's towers with impossible precision.

"Jesus Christ," Danny whispered over the comm. "What the hell is that thing?"

Nathan had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what it was.

Phantom emerged from behind a processing tower like liquid death, its matte black armor seeming to absorb light rather than reflect it. The machine moved with a grace that defied physics, each step flowing into the next without the mechanical stutters that plagued normal Titan Frames.

"All units, engage!" Mora ordered, but his voice carried a tremor that hadn't been there moments before.

Nathan tried to lock onto the target, but Phantom moved like smoke, weaving between their weapons fire with contemptuous ease. A cloud of metallic scales erupted from the machine's shoulders, filling the air with sensor-scrambling chaff that turned their targeting systems into useless static.

"I can't get a lock!" Kessler shouted. "It's jamming everything!"

Phantom flowed toward Danny's position with predatory focus. Danny tried to retreat, his Frame's weapons firing wildly into the chaff cloud, but it was like shooting at shadows.

"Danny, move!" Riley screamed.

But Phantom was already there.

The plasma blade ignited with a sound like tearing reality, and Danny's Frame, callsign Roughneck, was cut in half with surgical precision. The upper torso fell to the ground with a crash that Nathan felt through Ironwake's hull sensors.

"DANNY!" Riley's voice broke with raw grief.

"All units, retreat!" Mora ordered, his previous confidence evaporating. "Fall back to base immediately!"

"We can't leave Danny!" Riley protested.

"Danny's gone!" Mora snapped back. "Command said one of our teams wouldn't make it anyway! Leave 'em!"

Nathan's blood turned to ice. "What did you just say?"

But Mora's team was already pulling back, their Titan Frames accelerating away from the facility. Nathan watched in disbelief as they abandoned the field, leaving him, Kessler, and Ilson to face Phantom alone.

"Did he just say what I think he said?" Ilson asked, his voice tight with barely controlled rage.

"They planned this," Kessler whispered. "They knew one of us would die, and they planned for it to be us."

Phantom turned toward them, its featureless faceplate somehow conveying predatory interest. The machine began moving in their direction with that same impossible fluid grace.

"We need to get out of here," Nathan said. "Now."

"Wait," Kessler said, her tactical mind working even in the face of terror. "Danny's reactor core. If Ilson can hit it with his rail rifle…"

Nathan understood immediately. "The explosion would give us cover to escape."

"And maybe take that bastard with it," Ilson said grimly. He was already adjusting Skybolt's targeting systems, trying to get a lock on the downed Frame's power core through the sensor interference.

Phantom was closing fast, but Ilson's augmented reflexes and Skybolt's precision targeting system gave him advantages that normal human pilots lacked. He fired once, the rail rifle's projectile moving faster than sound.

The shot was perfect.

Danny's reactor core went critical in a blast that lit up the desert like a second sun. The explosion sent debris flying for kilometers and created a mushroom cloud that could be seen from orbit. When the light faded and Nathan's vision cleared, Phantom was gone, either destroyed or driven away by the blast.

They made it back to base in stunned silence, each of them processing what they'd experienced. Danny was dead. Mora's team had abandoned them. And somewhere in the command structure, someone had planned for exactly this outcome.

In the debriefing room, Colonel Harrison looked over their mission reports with the expression of someone who'd seen it all before.

"Casualties were expected," he said with clinical detachment. "The Liberation Front is more dangerous than we initially assessed. We'll adjust our tactics accordingly."

"Sir," Nathan said carefully, "with respect, I think there may be some communication issues between our squads. Squadron 4-Charlie seemed to have different… priorities during the engagement."

Harrison's expression didn't change. "Squadron 4-Charlie followed their orders, Cadet. I suggest you focus on doing the same."

Nathan felt something break inside him. These people, his own command structure, had sent them into a fight they knew would kill some of them, and they didn't care which ones died as long as they got the intelligence they needed.

That evening, as they sat in their quarters processing the day's events, Nathan looked at his teammates and made a decision that would change everything.

"We need to defect."