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The Vanguards were certainly impressive. The latest and greatest Titan technology, straight from the Militia itself; versatile, quick, agile, and armed to hit and hit hard.
And dead sexy. Or so Tai Lastimosa thought. In all seriousness, the Captain was a professional, and carried himself as such, and never would he place his own appearance above his duty. That said…he and his shiny new Vanguard were going to look seriously badass together. He grinned proudly, delighted by the gargantuan machine towering over him.
The Titan stared down at its soon-to-be Pilot and blinked once, then twice. The aperture of its optical lens narrowed down suspiciously as it examined the Captain.
Shiny and new though BT-7274 was, with his carbon fiber sensornet skin bare and flashing in the winter sun without paint, new his Pilot was not. The Titan shifted anxiously, blinking down at the…not exactly elderly man, but far older than any of the other Pilots appeared. Easily in his fifties, the Captain, while certainly possessing plenty of years left in his natural lifespan, was by standards of the war for the Frontier…ancient.
BT-7274 may have been born yesterday, but he had been pre-programed with all of the collective wisdom of the Militia and as such, the AI had no reason to believe that the man in front of him had any part of the processing speed and reflexes, let alone the physical endurance, it would take to keep up in combat. The Vanguard let out a low grinding noise, a bleat of binary as he vented some of his concerns in a way that would not trouble the Captain.
“Captain Tai Lastimosa,” the Titan began at long last, crouching down politely. “I am BT-7274.”
“BT, huh?” Lastimosa’s smile broadened. BT-7274 recoiled slightly, blinking in surprise at the unexpected shortening of his serial number. Had he misspoken? Had Lastimosa misheard him when he said he was BT-7274? Maybe he was going deaf… “Good ‘ta meet ‘ya, BT,” Lastimosa went on, unaware of BT’s internal troubles. The Titan huffed out a cloud of hot air from his vents, vexed. His programming had not prepared him for any of this. Old Pilots and Nicknames were non-routine, anomalies in what he knew he should expect, and therefore distressing.
“Captain,” BT-7274 began. He had to say something. He had to. “Before we complete the Neural Link, I must ask you to verify you have been deemed medically fit for service.”
Lastimosa’s face scrunched up, his noise wrinkling and his forehead stitching down and deepening the lines already creasing his face.
“Excuse me?” Lastimosa said, dumbfounded. He watched as BT shuffled where he stood, visibly uncomfortable in a way Tai didn’t think Artificial Intelligence was yet capable of.
“My apologies, Captain,” BT huffed. “I was unaware that you are hard of hearing-“
“Now just wait ‘a damn minute here!” Lastimosa interrupted. “Just what th’ hell are ‘ya implyin’?” The Captain’s voice had grown rough, his gray eyes flashing with ire and BT experienced a little spark of something like panic as this turn of events chaffed directly against his primary programming.
“I am merely concerned, Pilot!” BT went on hurriedly, and maybe just a little louder than he would normally speak…just in case. “Piloting a Titan is notoriously strenuous and I must not allow harm to come to my Pilot…”
“Hah, I see now,” Lastimosa broke into BT’s explanation once again. “You think I’m old!” BT blinked obtusely down at the gray-haired man.
“Are you not?” BT queried, despite himself.
Real anger flashed across Lastimosa’s face momentarily, and the Captain sniffed indignantly.
“No!” Lastimosa snapped. “Now listen here, ya little shit. I can rumble with the best of ‘em, and win.” BT let out another hot vent of air, displeased by the unfriendly address. “I’ve been Pilotin’ Titans for decades. Your bright shiny aft is the newest and the greatest thing the Militia has to offer – one of only fifty built so far, and I won’t blow my own horn but they ain’t gonna give you kids to some punkass wet behind the ears recruit.” Lastimosa stomped up to stand directly in BT’s shadow, staring up at him ferociously. “They’re gonna give ya to someone who knows what he’s doin’.”
BT recoiled against the Captain’s verbal accosting, taking a half step backwards even as he gazed down into those burning steel eyes with more than a little dissatisfaction. The bond between Titan and Pilot was critical, this much he was certain of, and he and the Captain seemed to be off to a mightily rocky start. BT couldn’t help but wonder if this was going to work.
“Understood,” BT said shortly, crouching lower and letting his canopy doors spring open. “Please embark when ready to initiate Neural Link.”
Tai had been through probably more than his fair share of Neural Links in his career, and while the inherently invasive process certainly never got easier, he’d never quite been neurologically manhandled the way he was now.
BT-7274 was not a gentle mech.
The Pilot grit his teeth, cringing as BT’s presence barreled through him, stampeding his thoughts and feelings until his mind was pummeled raw, the Titan’s larger-than-life personality too big for the crowded room of Lastimosa’s mind.
Lastimosa realized as he sat in the cockpit trembling through the aftermath that the graceless Link was by no means malicious. The Vanguard was simply way too big – the vastness of presence and will unlike anything he had experienced with the previous Artificial Intelligences he had worked with. BT was rife with Greater Purpose, Determination, and something that although technically impossible, looked an awful lot like Pride. Beneath it all, an awareness: a sense of anxious desperation to prove himself in light of his newness. Lastimosa frowned softly to himself, shaken. Titans had no business possessing feelings of desperation. Titans had no business possessing feelings.
He groaned, feeling somewhat sick, even as BT’s presence in his mind finally settled, the AI stretching the corners of his consciousness until he fit.
“Ugh…what the hell…” Tai rubbed his face, trying to shake off the woozy tumble of his gut, as well as the niggling awareness that BT was not at all what Lastimosa thought he ought to be.
“Pilot…?” BT’s voice was low, the Titan still cautious after the Captain’s last tirade. “Are you alright?”
“What the hell are you?” Lastimosa asked, huffing out a hot breath as his pulse finally started to slow once more.
“You appear distressed, Pilot,” BT pressed. “Scans indicate-“
“Naw, I’m fine…” Lastimosa broke in. “I just… damn! I’m pretty sure the Neural Link isn’t supposed ta hurt.” Lastimosa felt the shift of the Titan’s weight as BT physically cringed.
“My apologies, Pilot.” BT said, contrite. “I was unaware of any errors I made. I will seek out corrective measures as soon as I am able.” Lastimosa sighed. The Titan’s tone was as neutral as any AI’s, but somehow an apology seemed buried in every word he said.
“Naw. With any luck, you’ll never need to do that again, and neither will I.” He rubbed his face once more. “Don’t worry about it.” There was a long, pensive silence from the Titan as BT processed Lastimosa’s words carefully.
“Understood, Pilot.”
“Great,” Lastimosa sighed. “Let’s go for a walk and see if we can’t get ourselves synched up a bit…”
BT-7274 staggered, distracted by the incessant probing of his Pilot’s mind into his own. He sensed the Captain’s disapproval and concern, and could feel his Pilot picking at his sub-processes, critical. It was uncomfortable and disconcerting, and BT didn’t appreciate the invasiveness of such scrutiny.
“Hey! Where’re ya goin’?!” Lastimosa’s frustrated shout certainly didn’t help, but BT realized that he had unintentionally revoked Pilot Control and was wandering off against the Captain’s direction. He supposed he would yell too. With a bleat of unhappy binary, BT straightened up and relinquished control without comment. “What the hell was that, huh?” Lastimosa asked, and though his voice was fairly gentle, the rough words still flummoxed BT. They hadn’t gotten very far on their walk, or in synchronizing.
“My apologies, Pilot.” BT said, again. Too many times already. “I appear to have become momentarily distracted.”
“That shouldn’t be possible, BT,” Lastimosa said softly.
“I am aware of that,” BT said.
There it was, that horrible probing sensation again, and BT’s legs locked up, the Titan again commandeering control without realizing it.
“Damn it, BT!” Lastimosa barked when he realized what had happened. BT could feel the man’s frustration through the Neural Link. What was worse, he could also feel the beginnings of fear and mistrust. “Look. I dunno what you’re after with this, but keep this up an’ you’re gonna get us both killed!” BT’s entire frame rattled as the Titan shook, Protocol Three inciting a systemic backlash at the Pilot’s words.
“I am aware of that,” BT repeated. “My intentions are not to harm you, Pilot,” he added, sensing Lastimosa’s increasing distrust. The Captain said nothing at this, but BT detected the faintest sound of a derisive snort from the man. “Please Captain,” BT begged. “In order for us to survive in battle, you must trust me.”
Lastimosa let out a single barked laugh, the sound humorless and bitter.
“You first, Kid.”
BT stood by in silence, watching the Captain as he stood some distance away, speaking in low tones to Commander Briggs. His Pilot’s posture was rigid with tension, his back strung straight and his shoulders square. He alternated between gesturing furiously with both hands, often at BT, and keeping his arms crossed tightly over his chest. The Titan realized that Lastimosa meant to be out of earshot, and so did his best not to listen in, but the man’s words filtered into his processor anyway.
“You’ve got yourself an eccentric AI,” the Captain growled. The Commander’s shoulders hunched up slightly.
“Yeah, we think they all are,” she admitted. “At least a third are already presenting signs of basic sentience.”
Sentience. BT pondered this. He knew what the word meant, of course, but beyond that, he couldn’t quite figure out how it applied to him, or his brethren. Was he sentient? Would he know if he was? It was a troubling mystery.
“Yeah well, this ain’t workin’.” Lastimosa’s voice cut through BT’s musings, and the Titan glanced over at his Pilot. The Pilot’s gaze snapped towards BT, having caught him eaves dropping. Lastimosa’s stony gaze darkened tellingly. “Listenin’ are ya?” Lastimosa said, louder. “Well c’mere then.” He jerked his head sharply, gesturing for BT to come closer. Chagrined, BT ambled over.
“This here,” Lastimosa was telling Briggs as BT arrived to stand over the pair, “is a bonafide control freak.” He jabbed his thumb towards BT for emphasis. “Can’t trust me for two minutes straight in training.”
BT sagged on his struts. It was true. They hadn’t been linked three days, but nearly every minute of their ongoing training was a battle for control.
Along with the transfer of control, BT also relinquished his mind, and it was then that Lastimosa’s constant searching would intensify, the Pilot digging through his processor like a disorderly toolbox, rattling around searching for BT had no idea what. By contrast, BT stayed huddled in the back of Lastimosa’s mind, ever cognizant of how clearly uncomfortable the Neural Link had been, and remained.
“Is that so, BT-7274?” Briggs had turned to look up at BT. BT stared down at the woman for a long moment before answering.
“Affirmative. It is… an uncomfortable match, Sir.” BT shuffled back a step as he admitted this. “I am aware that I have been unable to successfully gain Captain Lastimosa’s trust. As such, it has become inappropriately difficult to surrender myself in return, effectively exacerbating the situation.” The Commander stared up at him thoughtfully for a beat before stepping closer.
“And how does this make you feel?” She asked. BT hesitated, weighing his answer. “Don’t think, answer,” Briggs urged, snapping her fingers.
“Regretful,” BT answered quickly. “I do not intend to be troublesome for the Captain, but it is apparent he is used to a ship far less prone to blundering than I am.”
Lastimosa swore softly, even as Briggs smiled.
“You’re a pretty self-conscious guy, aren’t you?” She asked BT. BT took a long step back, realizing what she was saying. From the hangar outside which they stood, another Vanguard Titan emerged, only to stop and wait in silence nearby.
“I do not wish to be ‘eccentric.’” BT announced. “I do not wish to cause Captain Lastimosa disquiet.” He was still backing away a half step at a time. “I regret the difficult Link. I regret that I am unable to perform as my Pilot requires me. I do, however,” BT settled once more, his usually burning blue gaze dim and cast downward, “respect my Pilot’s needs. If Captain Lastimosa feels he must sever our Link I will strive to do better next time, given the chance.” A look of sadness crossed the Commander’s face, and BT retreated further. He had an awful suspicion that he was in peril. What would become of an AI unfit for service?
“Tai, don’t you think you’re being a bit too hard on the guy?” Briggs asked, her tone placating. Lastimosa snorted.
“Maybe.” He shrugged. “But we ain’t got time to figure it out. I need something I can trust my life to now. There’s a war going on out there, Commander. Those kids are dying and I’m sitting here trying to make nice with experimental tech.” BT flinched, Protocol Three again causing a surge of pain at Lastimosa’s words. A Titan could not protect a Pilot who did not feel safe in his own presence. Briggs sighed heavily before turning to look up and over Lastimosa to the Vanguard waiting silently.
“MOB,” she spoke softly, but directly to the crimson-painted mech. “Remember that training exercise we did with Simmons and FS-1041?” The Vanguard inched closer to stand just over Lastimosa as it replied.
“Of course,” it said.
“You heard, right? Don’t you think BT and the Captain here would benefit from it?”
“Yes. Shall I demonstrate?” The Vanguard, MOB-1316, said. Briggs nodded.
“Yes, please do.”
Without further preamble, the Vanguard stooped down and, shockingly quick, snatched Lastimosa off his feet. The Pilot gave a startled bark, even as BT straightened up into a defensive posture, acolytes up instantly. Before he could respond further, however, the other Titan did the unthinkable.
With a mighty swing of its arm, MOB pitched Lastimosa high into the air. The Pilot gave an alarmed scream as he became unexpectedly airborne.
BT let out a single bleat of dismay even as he pivoted without hesitation, charging after the human projectile.
“Captain!” He poured all of his power into his legs, dashing across the ramp and taking a flying leap after Lastimosa as gravity began to take its hold on the man once more. In one clean swipe, BT plucked his Pilot from the air and stowed him safely inside his cockpit just before he tumbled, skidding roughly across the tarmac only to collide with a tremendous crash against the retaining wall at the far side.
The dust had barely settled when Lastimosa had kicked open the canopy and stormed out, furious.
“What in the blazes was that about?!” Normally quite calm, the Captain’s fiery side was little known by the Militia at large, though Briggs had seen it once or twice before. MOB-1316 actually recoiled a step, startled by the man’s rancor. Behind the raging pilot now stomping angrily back to where Briggs and her Titan stood, BT stayed still watching the exchange in silence. His sensornet burned from the hard impact, his HUD alight with warnings, all of which he ignored as he watched his pilot’s back. Brigg’s Vanguard, MOB-1316, had immediately sent him an encoded message packet alerting him to its intent to help BT prove himself, but threat assessment kept targeting the other Vanguard anyway. BT fought back the threat data, and clambered slowly back to his feet, staggering. He had skewed an actuator somewhere, and though it caused no pain or additional alerts, he had developed a limp.
In the distance, Lastimosa was still shouting angrily, alternating between addressing the Commander and MOB itself. BT hobbled back to just within human earshot, but hung back from approaching closer.
“Captain, please,” Briggs raised her hand, having finally had enough of the man’s tirade. “I understand you are upset but that is no way to address a superior officer.”
Lastimosa’s mouth shut with a snap, mid-sentence.
“Furthermore,” she turned to face BT, still standing by forlornly. Great white gouges in his dermal plating could be seen from his less-than-graceful tumble, the cowling to one booster was dented and his hip joint was sparking on one side. It was nothing a little body work wouldn’t fix, but he looked all the more pathetic for it. “You have someone who requires your attention.” She turned back to Lastimosa, leveling him a stern look. The Captain followed her gaze back to BT, and the Titan found himself stumbling backwards a step. The man’s ire was still plain on his face, and though reason stood that none of it was intended for BT, this time at least, it still struck BT to the core.
All at once, however, the man’s face softened.
“Aww shit…” Lastimosa strode forward, clucking his tongue at BT and craning his neck to examine the damage. “Lookit you…” He sniffed, glancing back at Briggs and her Titan, clearly aware now of what they had done. He stepped in even closer, and BT stepped back, painfully cognizant of his Pilot’s displeasure and mistrust. Lastimosa stopped short, a sad expression crossing his weathered features. “Shit…” He said again, softly. “I’m sorry, kid.” He reached out, smoothing his hand over a frayed patch of filaments on BT’s leg, peeling away some of the loose material carefully. He sighed heavily. “C’mere.” He gestured with his fingertips, and BT crouched down low to be on level with him. “Ya did good,” Lastimosa said at last.
BT remained silent. He had done as programming demanded him. He had done what any Titan would do, no matter what. He didn’t think he’d have done any differently, in the absence of Protocol Three, but he didn’t think it warranted praise, especially in light of his numerous recent blunders. He blinked down at his Pilot as Lastimosa stared up at him. There was still apprehension there. They did not understand one another, and were dubious that either ever would.
At length, BT responded by letting his cockpit doors swing open in silent invitation. To his mild surprise, the Captain embarked without hesitation. Nearby, the Commander and her Vanguard were watching in silence. The woman looked distinctly smug.
“Young and clumsy though I may be,” BT said softly as the Pilot settled in, “I will not allow my Pilot to come to harm,” he finished firmly. “I will earn your trust, Captain Lastimosa.”
The Captain let out a wry, tried laugh.
“Yeah…yeah ya will…”