A Grand Journey

by Reached

Vestige

With a well-practiced motion, The Rookie swiftly secured his armor, the pieces clinking and locking into place like a well-choreographed dance. His movements were fluid, a testament to years of training and combat experience. His attire, once just a plain uniform, now bore the marks of readiness, the embodiment of a soldier prepared for the unknown.

Gathering his belongings, he surveyed the cargo bay, his keen eyes settling on two large crates that remained unmarked and mysterious. A sense of curiosity nagged at him, a burning desire to uncover the secrets concealed within those sturdy encasements. He had attempted to pry them open earlier, but the material proved resilient, rebuffing his initial efforts. Yet, he knew that this mystery wouldn't remain unsolved for long; his determination was unwavering. In the grand scheme of survival and discovery, these enigmatic containers posed an alluring challenge to overcome.

Beyond these untouched crates, the cargo bay bore no traces of its former chaos. Debris and shattered remnants of wooden crates had been dutifully cleared away, each piece methodically removed and discarded. Now, the entirety of his essential supplies lay neatly organized in their respective pods, a testament to The Rookie's unwavering discipline and meticulous attention to detail.

The source of the earlier drone's destruction weighed heavily on The Rookie's mind, a puzzle he yearned to solve. The drone had inexplicably succumbed to an ethereal purple glow, moments before the feed had been abruptly severed. A lingering sense of foreboding clung to the memory of that moment. In the silence of the cargo bay, his thoughts swirled, the answers to his questions seemingly just out of reach.

Amidst the quiet, a faint ping emanated from his visor, a signal transmitted through the network that permeated the pelican's radio systems. The sound served as a reminder of his limited connection in this surreal world, a tenuous lifeline to the technology that had become his ally and guide. The mystery of the drone's demise continued to gnaw at him, and he knew he needed to uncover the truth behind this inexplicable event.

Seated at the helm of his pelican, The Rookie contemplated his options. Perhaps, if he utilized the connection system within the pelican's control center, he could gain access to the drone's archived footage, providing some insight into the enigmatic event that had befallen it. With the cargo bay doors securely closed behind him, he turned his attention to the computer station he had left untouched until now.

As his gloved hands danced over the keyboard and trackpad, he navigated through the system, bypassing any cryptic messages that had marred his previous interactions. His credentials granted him access without incident, a reassuring sign that this system had retained its integrity.

The Rookie's heart raced with anticipation as he delved into the drone's software. It had successfully paired earlier, a testament to his understanding of the technology. He aimed to access the live feed, yearning for a connection to the drone's perspective that had been inexplicably severed hours ago.

Yet, to his dismay, the screen displayed the same cryptic message he had encountered repeatedly:

"NO SIGNAL - ERROR - NO SIGNAL - ERROR..."

His shoulders slumped with a defeated sigh. It seemed that this approach held no promise, rendering him no closer to unraveling the mystery surrounding the drone's fate. Frustration gnawed at the edges of his resolve, threatening to engulf him in its grip.

Just as he prepared to stand, a noise shattered the silence, a voice intruding upon the solitude of the cockpit. The Rookie's eyes widened, his pulse quickening. He listened intently, his attention fixated on the computer. A voice from an unexpected source filled the air, a cacophony of questions that cascaded through his mind, shrouded in uncertainty. In a hurried flurry of movements, he clambered back into the pilot's seat and swiftly removed his helmet, a mix of anticipation and trepidation coursing through him as he sought to decipher the source of this unanticipated communication.ar? He listened... It grew quiet.

The abrupt intrusion of voices through the speakers of his device caught The Rookie off guard. Startled, he scrambled to adjust the volume, hastily silencing the cacophony that had assaulted his ears. A woman's voice dominated the conversation, her words fraught with concern.

"WHAT IF IT BLOWS UP?"

He winced at the unexpected volume, his fingers swiftly lowering the audio by a wide margin to alleviate the auditory assault. As he struggled to regain his composure, another woman's voice emerged, offering a semblance of reassurance in the midst of the enigma that had befallen him.

"It won't blow up! See? It's just... trying to fly again. Maybe we can fix it..."

The second voice echoed within the cockpit, triggering a surge of hope in The Rookie's heart. He leaned closer to the screen, his trembling fingers tracing the interface. His eyes darted across the display, searching for any means to restore the connection. He spotted a refresh button and clicked it, praying for a revival of the lost camera feed. Disappointment washed over him as the button yielded no results, clicking it again in vain.

As the voices continued their deliberations, he strained to discern their identities and establish a connection. Their words hinted at their intention to assist, yet doubts remained.

"Well... I dunno 'bout ya'll, but maybe we should just leave it be. Whoever this is, I'm sure they'll be upset that you broke it."

The distinctive Southern accent of the speaker struck a chord of recognition within The Rookie, evoking vague memories of the United Republic of North America's southern English-speaking region. Desperation fueled his quest to establish contact with these individuals, the ones he had observed earlier. He had not seen them well, but he had seen movement in the city earlier.

A surge of anxiety coursed through The Rookie's veins, and the voices he had overheard took on a more ominous tone. The realization struck him like a bolt of lightning – these people could very well be rebels, inhabitants of the fringe worlds on the periphery of the explored galaxy. In these desolate reaches, technology had regressed, and the appearance of his advanced drone might be seen as an unsettling anomaly, prompting suspicion.

"Can you guys be quiet for a second? I want to look at it closer, but I can't if you guys are freaking out!"

The distinct voice cut through the deliberations, demanding attention. The other voices fell silent, albeit with an undertone of uncertainty, allowing The Rookie to focus on the unfolding situation. He knew that more than four people surrounded his drone, and their reactions intensified his unease.

"I wonder what this marking is. This isn't an animal, it's some sort of strange... metal bird. It says... United Nations... Something Command."

The revelation about the drone's marking sent a shiver down The Rookie's spine. He had momentarily forgotten about the conspicuous insignia, a piece of evidence that could potentially expose his true identity. Panic set in as he gripped the steering wheel of his pelican with one hand, the metal cold against his palm. If these individuals were indeed rebels, he was trapped out in the open, alone, and compromised. Accusations of espionage would likely follow, sealing his fate.

His gaze darted anxiously outside, scanning the surroundings for any sign of movement. A creeping sense of paranoia gnawed at his consciousness. Could they be closing in on him at this very moment? The Rookie's heart raced as he grappled with the decision of whether to engage or evade the enigmatic individuals who now held the key to his fate.

"Maybe I could take this metal bird for a few days... maybe it'll heal. I could..."

The soft-spoken woman's words emanated from the speakers, introducing a glimmer of hope to the situation. Her suggestion, however improbable, revealed a degree of compassion and curiosity.

"This isn't an actual metal bird! I don't think this thing even eats anything. It could be dangerous. I think we should keep it here until we figure out what to do with it. I have to study it more, and then, maybe we can..."

The dominant voice reasserted itself, taking a pragmatic stance that resonated with The Rookie. Their fascination with the unknown, combined with a desire for caution, reassured him that they remained unaware of his true origins, which provided a fleeting sense of relief.

The Rookie, now calmer and more confident, cleared his throat and prepared to address the group. Words didn't come easily to him, but this was a crucial moment. He had to communicate with these strangers, in the hope that they might provide answers to the myriad questions that consumed him. He pressed the communication button.

The Rookie's words hung in the air, a mixture of authority and uncertainty coloring his voice. "This is United Nations Command..." It was strange to say he was in command, but he was alone, and in charge.

A moment of stillness followed his proclamation, a palpable pause that hinted at the tension on both ends of the communication. Then, an almost comical "eep" emerged from the other side, the voice that had previously spoken revealing an unexpected vulnerability. It was a stark contrast to their previous composure.

Subsequently, a heavy silence descended. The Rookie's statement had clearly thrown the others into disarray. As they grappled with the revelation that their metal bird could talk, he pressed on, determined to learn more about the situation and the individuals on the other end of the line. "Identify yourself." His voice held a note of urgency, underscoring the seriousness of the situation.

The Rookie's words had stirred a sudden reaction from the voices on the other end of the line, a mix of fear and aggression. "IT TALKS! BREAK IT!" one of them exclaimed, while another tried to intervene with a restrained "WAI-." However, the feed abruptly cut off, leaving The Rookie in solitude within his pelican's cockpit.

With the connection severed completely, he sighed in defeat. He couldn't fathom the level of fear and suspicion that had gripped the inhabitants of this peculiar world, leading them to react with such hostility to an unknown entity like his drone. As the world outside began to succumb to the encroaching darkness, The Rookie felt the weight of the day's events bearing down on him. It had indeed been a long and eventful day, from his skirmish with the wooden wolves in the morning to the exhaustive process of dismantling the crates in his cargo bay.

He looked to the outside, at the river ahead of him. It was slow-flowing. There was no movement, other than an occasional bird that would fly by. He watched the outdoors for some time.

Though a lingering sense of paranoia still gnawed at his mind, he knew that he couldn't keep the world at bay forever. As exhaustion took hold, he found himself slowly surrendering to the pull of sleep. He chose to keep his helmet off, but kept his uncomfortable armor on, in case of attack. he allowed his body to succumb to the embrace of slumber. In the quiet confines of the pelican's cockpit, he drifted into the realm of dreams, his battles temporarily put on hold, waiting for the dawn of a new day to continue his enigmatic journey. As he faded away, he found himself somewhere new...

Luna.

Comments

[Blackwatch9]

Hmm are the equestrians humans or Arthros?

[Reached]

11738124
They're regular. It's a human in equestria story. 😄

[Blackwatch9]

11738129
I see.

[Bossypants]

He’s an ODST right? Just curious. Otherwise, I like where you are going with this!