A Grand Journey

by Reached

Warrior Lost in Time

In the dim light of the pelican's cockpit, a snarl pierced the air, followed by a groan of renewed pain from the relentless headache assaulting The Rookie's senses. He winced, clutching his throbbing temples. Then, slowly, he forced his eyes to open. The cabin was bathed in a warm, inviting glow as sunlight streamed through the cockpit window, offering a stark contrast to the ominous events of the previous night.

Outside, the unsettling sounds of snarling and the occasional scrape of claws against metal persisted, a grim reminder that his unwelcome visitors had yet to depart, even in the early morning light. Despite the discomfort, The Rookie found a measure of solace in the precious moments of sleep he'd managed to snatch, a brief respite from the chaos.

As the pain in his head gradually ebbed away, he straightened himself, surveying his surroundings with a determined gaze. Dealing with the menacing wooden wolves lurking just beyond the cockpit was an immediate priority. His eyes fell upon the weapons crate, and in his hand, he still clutched the trusty crowbar that had vanquished the wolf before him.

With a grim determination, he swung the crowbar against the wooden crate, the satisfying sound of cracking wood filling the cabin. The crate surrendered its secrets, revealing two pods brimming with an arsenal of firearms. Rifles, pistols, and an assortment of cutting-edge weapons gleamed invitingly, each promising to be The Rookie's salvation in this mysterious, perilous world.

The Rookie's hand, steady and determined, reached for a formidable weapon from the crate – a BR series rifle. Its sheer power was evident, a potential game-changer in the perilous dance that awaited him. His gaze darted to the ammunition arrayed at the crate's foot, its diverse selection posing a tantalizing challenge. Yet, his choice was decisive, quickly zeroing in on the needed rounds.

With practiced precision, he deftly unloaded the clip from the rifle and began methodically slotting the bullets into the waiting chambers of the 30-round magazine. His intent was clear – no room for error. Another magazine was acquired, a safeguard against unforeseen adversity, a tangible symbol of his relentless determination. These tools, these instruments of survival, would swiftly dispatch the lurking wooden wolves outside.

Steeling himself for the inevitable confrontation, The Rookie strode toward the pelican's entrance. A steadying breath marked the calm before the storm, the moments leading up to his inaugural foray into the unknown. In a fluid motion, he flung open the door, stepping out onto the frame where the window rested, his eyes locking onto the ominous figures below.

The wolves, initially caught off guard by his sudden emergence, would not enjoy the luxury of surprise for long. In the blink of an eye, The Rookie fired a shot that pierced the nearest creature just above its right eye. The malicious green gleam within its gaze flickered, their malevolence vanquished by the ruthless accuracy of his marksmanship.

Shifting his aim to the next wolf, he hesitated for a fraction of a second, the pressure of the situation mounting. It resulted in a miss, but he swiftly regained control. A second shot found its target, striking the creature just below its left eye, extinguishing its sinister presence. The subsequent shots followed like relentless drumbeats, the echoing reports of the rifle bursting through the air, silencing even the forest's ambient sounds.

A hushed stillness descended upon the land as if nature itself paused, an expectant audience to the unfolding battle. The Rookie, with the wolves now vanquished, stood as the lone figure in the eerie calm, a sentinel to this enigmatic world. He approached one of the wooden husks. It was larger than the others. This one had been the one he had missed earlier.

As The Rookie stood amidst the aftermath of the wolf encounter, his weapon radiated warmth, a stark contrast to the cold, unfamiliar landscape surrounding him. It seemed as though late fall had taken hold of this land, with the trees donning a vibrant palette of orange and gold, their leaves whispering mournful tales of change. At first glance, the forest appeared ordinary, but like his elusive memories, an underlying peculiarity seemed to lurk beneath the surface.

The Rookie let out a sigh, his breath crystallizing in the chilly air. His drone chimed, alerting him that it had completed its exploratory mission, venturing approximately 50 miles in every direction, uncovering curious findings along the way. Beyond the now-silent town he had spotted earlier, the landscape presented a medley of natural features – a gorge, more forest, and a vast grassland stretched out before him.

As the drone neared, its battery life dwindling, The Rookie contemplated his next move. Faint memories stirred in his mind, recalling the days when drone pilots would recharge their faithful companions in the pelican. The present situation bore echoes of familiarity, his recollection guided by muscle memory. He needed to locate the charging dock and perhaps reposition the pelican to a less hostile environment. More wolf encounters were far from appealing.

With the drone safely back inside the pelican, he embarked on a brief search. It wasn't long before he discovered the charging dock discreetly nestled behind one of the seats. He swiftly plugged the drone in, securing its return to full power. A sense of relief washed over him as the familiar hum emanated from the drone, a reassuring reminder of his newfound partnership in this enigmatic world.

Seated at the pilot's helm, The Rookie cast his gaze down to the dashboard, its arrangement all too familiar to him. He knew the purpose of each control, the memories flooding back in fragments. Turning the battery on, he marveled at the soft hum resonating from the core of the colossal beast beneath him. His eyes alighted upon the energy source gauge, confirming that this was no ordinary pelican. It ran on a state-of-the-art nuclear power source, a wellspring of energy that would endure without faltering.

A mixture of awe and determination coursed through The Rookie as he watched the array of starting lights flicker to life. The pelican, new and brimming with potential, commenced an initial start-up check. One by one, warning lights materialized and vanished in mere moments, a testament to the pelican's readiness to embark on its journey. In this resilient vehicle, The Rookie found a lifeline to navigate the mystifying terrain beyond, a partner in uncovering the secrets that lay beneath the alien moon's watchful gaze.

The Rookie's hands danced across the controls as he located the ignition switch. With a flick, the pelican roared to life, awakening from its slumber. The vehicle rumbled to action, and in a matter of moments, it righted itself, no longer askew. The Rookie firmly grasped the steering wheel, feeling a sense of empowerment surging within him. His visor displayed the map of the area, revealing a promising clearing some 40 miles to the north, distinguished by a river and a forest that appeared less tainted.

He eased the pelican forward, its responsive maneuvers confirming his control. As the landscape slid past the cockpit, The Rookie leaned back into his seat, a semblance of belonging and purpose enveloping him. This new direction brought him closer to the previously spotted town, a calculated risk he was willing to take. With the drone as his silent observer, he could assess the inhabitants from a safe distance before deciding his course of action.

His thoughts wandered to the nature of colonies and their loyalty to his flag, reminding him that not all settlers adhered to his military allegiance. The memory of confronting insurgents resurfaced, accompanied by the return of his relentless headache. He clenched his teeth, grappling with the pain as it threatened to overwhelm him. Struggling to maintain control of the vehicle, he forced his thoughts away from the agony. Why did remembering have to be so painful? The enigma gnawed at him as he continued his journey north, his determination unshaken by the turmoil within.

The pelican touched down in the grassy clearing with precise expertise. The Rookie maneuvered his vessel with deft precision, bringing it to a gentle halt. He powered down the machine, its quiet hum subsiding as he released the helm. With the terrain now level, he moved toward the back of the cargo bay, where the cargo bay doors beckoned to be opened. A flick of the lever the doors obediently slid apart, ushering in the warm sunlight that flooded the interior.

As The Rookie surveyed the contents of the cargo hold, a pang of hunger began to gnaw at his consciousness, accompanied by the faint, telltale odor of his own sweat-soaked uniform. It was the perfect time to unload the crates and partake in a much-needed wash in the nearby river.

Hours slipped away, marked by the sight of broken crate panels scattered around the grassy expanse. One by one, he had diligently opened the crates, revealing their assorted treasures. Midway through his chores, his drone informed him that it had fully charged and embarked on another exploration of the immediate area.

With the first order of business complete, The Rookie had taken a few hygiene supplies he'd found, allowing the river to serve as a makeshift bath. Now, in a rare moment of respite, he sat atop a heap of disassembled panels, his uniform reduced to minimal coverage. He'd carefully removed his expensive armor, placing it beside him in a neat, orderly array. Adorning a fresh, albeit slightly too-small uniform discovered within the clothing crate, he found himself feeling both vulnerable and invigorated. The helmet rested nearby, its visor seemingly regarding him with an unspoken question.

Gazing at his gear, The Rookie contemplated its significance as he consumed one of the MRE meal kits he'd uncovered. The taste left much to be desired, but it sufficed to sate his hunger. More of these kits awaited, enough to sustain him for several months, he estimated, as he pondered the unfamiliar world that had become his reality.

In The Rookie's lap lay a tablet, a serendipitous discovery among the various crates he had been sorting through. When he'd first encountered it, the tablet had been completely lifeless, prompting him to set it aside for charging while he organized his newfound belongings. Earlier attempts to power it on had proven futile, and he'd resigned himself to the notion that it was likely a lost cause. Thus, he found himself absentmindedly toying with it while devouring a beef stick, its screen illuminated only by the sun's rays.

However, an unexpected vibration, accompanied by a soft ding, jolted him from his musings. His eyes widened in surprise as the tablet's screen flickered to life. With the beef stick still clutched between his teeth, he instinctively moved his fingers to interact with the device. To his further astonishment, he was able to access the tablet.

The screen displayed an unexpected message:

"LANCE CORPORAL @$DK*(@ @(*f!!ZZ"
"YOU HAVE 20 TASKS"
"YOU HAVE 15 MISSED NOTIFICATIONS"
"YOUR ENLISTMENT IS DUE TO RENEW ON... .... ... PLEASE CONTACT... ... ... FOR REENLISTMENT OPTIONS"

The Rookie's brows furrowed with bewilderment. He couldn't comprehend how this tablet could have this information; his contract still had years to run. He cast a glance at the tablet's signal status but found it to be absent. Frustration crept in as he attempted to open the tasks, to no avail. Dismissing the tablet as useless, he set it down beside him, wondering if it was a mere illusion, a figment of his increasingly complex and enigmatic situation.

With a shimmering alert, The Rookie's helmet notified him of an incoming message through his visor. He quickly reached for his helmet, his hair still damp from the bath he'd taken earlier, and secured it onto his head. The visor's interface sprang to life, displaying a feed from his drone. It was stationed at a distance, allowing a partial view of the village. There was movement all around, signs of life. People bustled about, going about their daily activities. Intrigued, The Rookie squinted, attempting to get a closer look, but the drone's camera resolution prevented a detailed view. Frustrated with the limited perspective, he instructed the drone to approach the village more closely.

The drone responded, drawing nearer and eventually hovering over what appeared to be an old-fashioned train station, reminiscent of a setting from a Western movie. Continuing its journey, it traversed deeper into the town. The drone's camera settled on a town square that bore a similarly antiquated appearance.

Eager to inspect the area up close, The Rookie guided his drone toward the town square, but suddenly, a powerful gust of wind struck the drone, sending it into a chaotic spin through the air. The drone struggled to regain its stability, but it was clearly outmatched. The Rookie clenched his teeth in frustration, realizing that he had no manual control over the drone when using his visor; his instructions could only be general. As the drone plummeted rapidly, the images it captured blurred into an indistinguishable frenzy. Then, in the blink of an eye, the descent halted, mere inches from the ground. The screen took on an eerie purple glow, obscuring everything beyond it. Abruptly, the feed was lost, replaced by a message stating,

"No Signal."

Comments

[Blackwatch9]

Rainbow dash!