The rhythmic sound of a heart monitor filled the sterile silence of the Odyssey's medical ward. Artificial light, cold and white, bathed everything, accompanied by that damn persistent smell of industrial disinfectant.
In this place for wounded souls, Eris opened her eyes for the first time in days. The air entering her lungs came through a thin tube connected to her nose, and her arms were covered in needles and sensors. A dull headache throbbed behind her eyes.
"W…what happened? Where…am I?" Eris struggled to stay lucid, but her words dragged out sluggishly.
By her side, slumped in an uncomfortable chair, Maxwell slept. The dark circles under his eyes, nearly black, betrayed sleepless nights. His rumpled uniform and unshaven face showed just how rough the last few days had been.
"…Boss?"
"…"
"Max?"
"…"
"Dad?" Eris's voice was barely a whisper, scraping through a dry throat.
Maxwell's bloodshot eyes flew open instantly, as if some subconscious reflex feared that word. His legs nearly jolted into motion on their own, like they were searching for the nearest cigarette stand.
"You're awake," Maxwell rubbed his tired eyes, leaning in closer. "You scared the hell out of me back there."
"Parenthood… not your strong suit, sir?"
"Parenthood? What are you on about?" He blinked, confused. "You were twitching like a vibrator, don't you remember?"
"A glass of... water might help jog my memory…"
"Oh, right. Sorry."
"You suffered shell shock," he said, handing her a cup of water for her parched throat. "You're in the Odyssey's med ward. We pulled you out of the simulation before you became a statistic, and I'm not joking, three soldiers went into cardiac arrest during the next rounds."
A heavy silence followed. Eris looked away, strands of hair clinging to her face as she murmured, almost imperceptibly.
"I failed." She bit her lip, fists clenched so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Maxwell shook his head, placing a hand gently on her blue hair. "No. The success rate of becoming a pilot has always been minimal. Most candidates didn't even make it to module 15. You've gone far, Eris. Don't beat yourself up, there'll always be more chances."
"Eris. Look to your side."
With effort, she turned her head. Three beds over, Persephone, Hestia, and Aphrodite, her fellow Lance Assassins, were also lying there, intubated and receiving care. Despite the visible exhaustion, all three smiled softly and gave her small waves with trembling hands. Eris felt a sharp pang in her chest.
"How many pilots made it?" she asked, returning the gesture.
Maxwell took a deep breath.
"Three percent. Out of five hundred who began, only fifteen passed. Most struggled with the Neural Link interface. Among those who made it, Minerva and Athena are in."
Eris's eyes widened slightly. Minerva… she made it…
"I could've done more... I should've used my Titan better, I should've killed more!"
"That's not how it works, Eris."
She looked at Maxwell, searching for an explanation.
"Sixteen hundred soldiers were put through the Gauntlet. Only the top five hundred could even start Pilot training," Maxwell stood, his expression tightening. "From the beginning, module 15 was designed to go wrong. After the Widow's fall, you were supposed to survive a month in enemy territory, low on food, resources, ammo, and with a damaged Titan. Your extraction point was a desert seventy-eight miles away."
"Piloting a Titan or killing thousands doesn't define a Pilot."
"What matters is what you can do when your life is on the line."
"I wish you a good recovery." Maxwell's tone softened as he patted her head. Before leaving, he handed her a piece of paper.
"This is the bill?" Eris felt her soul leave her body. "He's gotta be joking."
Watching Maxwell walk away, Eris pondered his words. What was a Pilot?
"Boss, wait!"
Maxwell stopped, looking questioningly.
"Can you tell me where I can find Henry? Which department is he in?"
Maxwell froze for a moment, but forced himself to say.
"Eris, I'm sorry to say that. Henry is not one of our soldiers, but one of those who took part in the real mission to rescue Barker."
"So he doesn't exist?"
"He once existed, but no longer".
"..."
"Sir, if I may. Did you come from Frontier? Was it your home?"
Maxwell returned to his stride, leaving his words behind.
"Yes, and it was beautiful."
Outside the Odyssey's med ward, Maxwell took a deep breath. He had to admit, he was getting a bit attached to the Lance Assassins.
Waiting for him, still as a statue, was BT.
"BT. Anything happen while I was tied up with training?"
"Yes, sir. Notable events occurred on Pandora in recent days. The most significant was a conflict in Sanctuary. The city came under siege by a mercenary force named Crimson Lance. One of the operatives broadcast a message through the EchoNet shortly after the event."
Maxwell frowned. He'd cleared Sanctuary of bandits himself when retrieving the city's mining machine. Another bandit faction already?
"Transmission? Play it." Maxwell knew Angel couldn't compete with raw intelligence like this.
("This is a message to any Crimson Lance left on Pandora. General Knoxx is dead, and knowing the Lance, they're more likely to cut their losses and leave you here than send an extraction ship. So, unless you wanna starve to death out there, you've got two options. One, you become bandits. Two, you join me in protecting the people of Sanctuary. I can offer you food, shelter, and the chance to fight for something real and meaningful, an opportunity I know the Atlas Corporation never gave you.
Roland, out.")
Maxwell nodded slowly, absorbing every word.
"Roland… so he took charge of Sanctuary. They've got no more use for me, not a priority target." Maxwell huffed with a faint smile. "Let the poor bastards have their moment of peace. Even I'm starting to pity them."
"Understood, sir. Other developments are requiring your attention."
"Tell me as we walk. I want to inspect the new Titan batch for our Pilots."
"Certainly," BT continued, still composed. "We intercepted footage of a spacecraft departing Pandora. The structure and design match Hyperion technology. The ship was briefly attacked by local forces, but the interception failed. Once out of the atmosphere, it vanished from all tracking."
"Jack's moving," Maxwell said, narrowing his eyes. "Which means Dahl's Lost Legion has begun its assault on Helios. That explains Angel's disappearance."
"Our time on Pandora is ending." His pulse quickened. He was finally close to leaving this filthy pit.
"Cause for celebration. However, I must inform you, Pilot, our recon units have located an abandoned Dahl facility now used by Hyperion. Logistics movement suggests potential human experimentation."
Maxwell froze. The information reminded him of a certain small, blonde troublemaker.
"Human experiments? Are you sure?"
"Evidence is still circumstantial, Pilot," BT answered with precision. "However, there's constant traffic of heavy bandit vehicles, increased disappearances, and reports of nocturnal activity. The pattern is consistent with illegal research."
Maxwell crossed his arms, digesting the data.
"And what about Eridium mining?"
"No direct confirmation," BT replied. "However, several Loader-type robots have been seen operating in rural and desert zones, far from cities. It is plausible that Hyperion is conducting covert mining using automated labor."
Maxwell narrowed his eyes, already thinking ahead.
"Tiny Tina... she and her parents may already have been Hyperion's prisoners." He pondered the timeline but couldn't remember the exact dates. "Brick and Mordecai might find her this time. I can't rely on luck for this."
[Generating quest...]
[Quest: Saving the Kabum princess]
( ) Save Tiny Tina
( ) No damage to the rescue target {Optional}
( ) Don't leave any witnesses {Optional}
[Rewards: $500 + ??? + ???]
[Time: 359 hours, 59 minutes, and 57 seconds]
"I've got just over two weeks to rescue Tina before it's too late." Picking up the pace, Maxwell entered the wide corridors of the Odyssey's massive factory. BT followed closely behind, thanks to the high entranceways, Titans could walk freely.
Maxwell paused as he stepped onto the main deck. Eleven Titans were already prepped, six Ogres, three Atlas, and two Stryders, each in resting position on their respective platforms. Dozens of Marvins swarmed the machines, running final diagnostics. On suspended walkways, Pollux's technicians performed AI checks near the optical cores, the Titans' "eyes."
Maxwell gave a quick nod in passing, satisfied with the progress. His mood lifted with every step.
Further down the assembly line, he saw the skeleton of a new Atlas Titan being assembled. Robotic arms inserted components, welded parts, and tightened bolts.
Ahead, near a supervisory console, Moxxi observed the whole process in her mechanic's jumpsuit.
"Bubbles n' birds, bubbles n' birds~" she sang, swaying her hips while adjusting some clamps.
Maxwell's gaze locked onto Moxxi's bouncing rear. A wicked grin spread across his face. Quietly stepping up behind her, he raised his hand and brought it down.
*SMACK*
His palm landed firmly on her right cheek, the impact rippling across her curves.
"KYAA!" Moxxi shrieked in surprise, spinning around to smack whoever dared.
Maxwell caught her hand effortlessly, pulling her close.
"Oh... It's you, Max."
"Having fun?"
"Sure, but now I'll have even more with you here." Moxxi purred flirtatiously, brushing a kiss across his lips. "You left me all alone these past days. Been skipping meals and rest?"
"You probably already know, so I won't lie. Let's spend some time together before I leave, okay?" Maxwell sighed, weary. He'd been eating with his soldiers in the cafeterias and sleeping wherever he could. Even with a peak body, he still had limits.
"How's production?"
"The twelfth Titan's almost ready. In a few hours, all fifteen will be operational. Pollux can finish the job in my absence."
Maxwell nodded, satisfied, and made that clear with another firm smack. Turning away, he approached BT.
"BT, connect me to my first Pilot."
BT's optical core lit up brightly, and a blue hologram materialized in front of them. Knoxx appeared life-sized, smoking a fat cigar, looking rejuvenated. His voice retained that sarcastic tone, even though his new body looked like a man in his 40s.
"Boss," he said, removing the cigar with two fingers. "Appreciate the gift. My back finally stopped creaking, and my sinuses quit acting up."
Maxwell crossed his arms, smirking.
"Looks like the new body's working out."
"Can smoke and drink more now, no complaints here," Knoxx replied, exhaling smoke. "But I doubt you called just to check on my health."
"Correct. We're almost ready to move the Odyssey to Elpis. But a last-minute mission came up. Thought it'd be a great real-world test for the new Pilots."
"I thought we'd keep a low profile."
"That was when we didn't have Titans. In addition, Hyperion has been pressured by two forces, the Claptraps' revolt and a defecting Dahl force in Elpis."
"But taking everyone? Bit much. Someone's gotta keep this sardine can safe." Knoxx raised an eyebrow.
"Fair. Got anyone in mind?"
"I'll stay. Leave me four others. We'll keep the systems running, prep the jump to Elpis, and make sure no one sneaks aboard."
Maxwell nodded; he was itching to blow things up with BT. "Sounds good. Send me the names later. When I return, I want the ship ready."
"Affirmative. Knoxx out." The transmission ended.
As soon as it did, Moxxi dragged Maxwell off to their room. There were... adult matters to attend to.