CHVLR: Mission 1

16/9, 14:21

Designation: 23

Unit: Canter 01

Today marks my first week in the CHVLR program, and is the day of my first deployment to the field. My Seigyo Control System (SCS) was installed three days ago, and I've run a few training simulations, but it's the first time I've ever been in the cockpit.

The colonel says there is no other choice. The enemy is here and I have to stop them.

Canter 01 initializing. Systems green. Edward Sander, signing off.

Deployment Phase

D6 roll: 5

Mission Log

17/9 16:23

Designation: 23

Unit: Canter 01

Sirens rang out at base as orders were shouted for us to sortie. The day has finally come. This is not a drill and the enemy is here. I hurriedly put on my suit and climb into the cockpit, heart racing. I, along with Canter 01, burst out from the launchpad, wings shimmering. This mech is truly something else, or so I'm told. It is the first generation of CHVLR that can maintain continuous flight.

As I raced over the open countryside, my eyes flicked to the landscape below. The fields stretched out in neat, glistening rows—the Zain crops. The empire depended on these fields. If I let the enemy get past me, it wouldn’t just be lives at risk. Our empire's lifeblood, responsible for feeding millions would be at the whims of the enemy. The academy drilled it into us. Zain serves as the backbone of our farming industry for the empire. Going through the academy taught me the importance of the this crop, a genetically modified genus derived from corn, named after the founding scientist Thomas Zainaus. "Zain provides 95% of the empire's food rations," I recall Mr. Zimmerman tell the class. No wonder the farmers have not been evacuated from the field even when the enemy came to attack. Surely there must be something that can be done for the farmers; I can't imagine what would happen if the Zain crop would get devastated. Yet again, I don't blame the higher ups for not recalling the farmers.

 I scoured the field around me, looking for any sign of enemy activity. None could be found. I locate the radar and enemy location system in Canter 01. I should have arrived at the enemy location minutes ago, yet nothing appears out of the ordinary. The country side appear calm and I could hear the wind rustling the fields.

Suddenly, an alarm was raised inside Canter 01. An alarm blared: 'BOOSTER FAILURE - Try manual restart.' The new continuous flight system was supposed to be flawless, but now my mech was limping through the sky. Before I had time to process what my SCS was telling me, a high powered beam shoots right past over my head. It was the enemy. I quickly focused my attention to the target, preparing enemy fire countermeasures, just like how us recruits have been trained at academy. I bring my beam rifle up and aim at the target. I zoom in and lock in.

I was not ready for what I saw. A sly smile on the humanoid’s face. The enemy was only the size of a human, no larger than seven feet. Its arms were down to their knees, definitely Lovecraftian in nature. The smile though, chilled me to my bone, as if taunting me to shoot at it. Something glimmered in its hand. I zoomed in more with Canter 01’s advanced optometric sensors and could barely make out what it is.It appeared to be a cable or shaft of some sort, large enough to transfer fuel between my CHVLR and its booster. Could the enemy be the reason for my booster’s failure? The creature bolts away at the sight of me.

I had no time to think. I gave chase as my rifle beam's lock-on system did not have enough range on the strange creature. Canter 01 is capable of going 400 miles an hour, yet the distance between me and the smiling creature didn’t appear to close. I looked over at the edge of my screen, at the speedometer. It was flashing red with warning signs all over it. It read “45 mph. Speed compromised.” The creature was soon out of sight…

All this happened at such a short time, when I heard the colonel’s voice over the comms, “The enemy appears to be gone. Track back and report what you saw ASAP.” I wanted to cry. The disturbing creature’s smile was still very much in my mind; not only did I fail to intercept the enemy, I also had to do a whole lot of explaining to the maintenance crew of my booster’s failure. It’s going to be a long day.

I make my way through the field contemplating what had just transpired. Too many questions and adrenaline come rushing into my head. Is this really what being out on the field is like? There wasn't much guidance from the higher ups or any previous combat experience from seniors as I was part of the first CHVLR unit team, built from the ground up to counter the enemy. I could see the the base entrance opening up for me.

But this enemy needed to be stopped. I wanted to salvage the situation and locate the strange creature. But if I pushed Canter 01’s boosters any harder, I risked not only damaging the crops but also risked leaving Canter 01 as a hunk of metal. .

As I walked Canter 01 back into the base, my thoughts still whirled around the events that had just unfolded. The farmers were still out there, toiling away as though nothing had changed. They had no idea how close they’d come to losing everything—to having their fields burned by a stray shot, their crops vaporized in an instant.

I should have stopped the enemy before it got this far, before they even had a chance to get close. My failure wasn’t just about losing track of the target; it was about failing the empire. Failing all those people who depended on the Zain crops for survival. What if I damaged them without even realizing it?

How many lives are already in my hands?

And the farmers, oblivious to how close they came to devastation. They carried on as though nothing had happened, but how long could that last? The enemy would return, and next time, I might not have a choice.

I'm just about to enter the hatch when I hear a scream from under Canter 01. "ARGHHHH!" "NOOOOOO, John!" another women shouts out. I snap out of my daydream, jolted by a scream below. I freeze in response. I cannot deal with so many tragedies in such a short time. This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening. This is not happening, I repeat to myself. I pause in my suit, frozen in time. I tried to let out a scream, but nothing came out. In my 19 years of life, I've never so much as hurt an insect. Please don't be one of the farmers tending to their crops. Canter 01 stood there for what seemed an eternity.

...

I awake to bright lights shining from all around me. "What in the world were you doing out there! Not only did you let the enemy escape but you also use up 40 tons of psion energy!" The colonel's familiar voice ring through my head. All I could muster was a simple "Sorry." 

"Kid, I'm sorry I yelled at you... I was too caught up in the moment. You are our best bet against these monstrosities. I'll have Dr. Mengue check you out and make sure you're okay. In the meantime, rest in the dormitories with your comrades. I'll get the report from you when you're ready."

I slowly trotted my way back to my bed. The hangar is a good 25 minute walk from the hangar, but the accelerated moving walkways cut the time to five minutes. I reach the dormitories in no time.

"Hey Edward! The base was in all sorts of chaos just now. How did your first mission turn out?"

I look to the ground.

"Oh... I'm just glad you're still with us safe and sound. Take it easy Eds, only the empires fate resides in us."

Gunter and I have been together since we were kids—New Geneva’s colony brats. We shared everything—dreams, failures, even scars from the same bullies back in the academy.  The war took us from our homes and now we're placed in Aramadale, protecting the ever important Zain fields.

Gunter realizes he took a step too far, "Take some rest now Eds, I'm sure the enemy won't be gone for long. We need you."

I collapse onto my bed, exhaustion seeping through every bone. For a brief moment, the weight of the day's failures starts to slip away, and I welcome the darkness closing in. The sounds of the hangar, the distant hum of machinery—it all fades. Sleep doesn’t come easily, but eventually, I drift off.

My dreams are restless. I see the creature’s smile, the Zain fields, the scream from beneath Canter 01. Faces blur in and out, voices overlapping. I failed them. I failed them all.

Suddenly, I’m jolted awake.

The sirens are deafening—screaming through the corridors like a brutal reminder that war never sleeps. They yank me out of my restless dreams, pulling me back into the cold reality I’d hoped to avoid.”

I don’t think I can handle another mission—not after failing the last one. The weight of it all presses down on me, and for a moment, I think about staying here, letting it pass me by.

But then, through the haze, I see Gunter. He’s already suited up, his boots echoing against the metal floor as he sprints toward the door. He pauses just long enough to glance back at me. Beneath the mask of seriousness, there’s a flicker of a smile—a brief, silent acknowledgment that we’re both stuck in this nightmare. He’s just as tired as I am. Just as afraid.

But he goes anyway.

I pull myself out of bed. My legs feel like lead as I suit up, the weight of my earlier failure still heavy on my chest. I can’t let it happen again. Not to Gunter. Not to anyone.

Back in Canter 01, the cockpit feels more confining than ever. The lights flicker as the system boots up, and I force myself to focus. This is it. One more chance to make things right.

The launch is rushed—no time to think, no time to breathe. We're out there again, Gunter flying just ahead of me, his unit cutting through the sky like an arrow. I trail behind, the HUD lighting up with red warnings from the earlier booster failure; the maintenance team surely had no time to fix anything relating to the booster. We push further into enemy territory with Gunter taking vanguard. Canter 01 barely making up for the speed Gunter was traveling in.

When I arrive at the scene, tranquility reigned in once again. This is way too quiet. The fields before me lay bare as if nothing was amiss. I looked at the HUD just before me for any signs of Gunter. His small blip shone in and out of my friend/foe awareness system, yet I could not see where Gaunter has gone to. Before I can call out to Gunter, the world around me explodes in a burst of static and light.

The ambush hits me hard, from all sides. Canter 01 spins wildly as I try to regain control, the alarms inside the cockpit blaring in my ears. My comms flare up with overlapping voices, and in the chaos, I hear Gunter.

“Edward! They’ve got me pinned—damn it, I need backup!”

I glance at the map. He’s surrounded by many more creatures like the one I saw earlier today. Their insidious smile jeered at me as if ridiculing me to make a decision. He won’t last long.

I bring Canter 01 around, trying to locate him. He’s just ahead around the corner of a building—enemy units closing in fast. My targeting system locks onto the closest one, but the path is blocked. Between me and Gunter’s position is a cluster of buildings. Civilians.

I hesitate, my finger hovering over the trigger. No. Not again.

Another voice cuts through the comms, desperate and strained: “We need to move! They’re advancing—take the shot!”

Do I fire?

I know there are civilians in the area. Some of them could be hiding in those buildings, unaware of what’s happening outside. If I shoot, there’s no way to avoid them.

As I weigh the decision and align my sights on the cluster of enemy units closing in on Gunter, my comms crackle to life. At first, it’s just static—high-pitched, distant, like a distant radio signal from another world.

Then, through the static, I hear it.

A voice. No, not a voice. More like a collection of whispers threaded together, warping and echoing like it’s passing through layers of reality.

“Fr—iend…? Foe—oee?”

What? My pulse spikes. No time. Gunter’s pinned. I have to—

“Not… yours…”

My mind reels, but there’s no time to think. Gunter needs me. With a sinking gut, I squeeze the trigger, knowing there's no turning back. But if I don’t, Gunter’s as good as dead.

Before I can process it, the voice shifts, growing low and insidious.

“We... are... friend... no foe... not... yet.”

I can't lose him.

I pull the trigger.

The beam cuts through the air, a bright red light slicing toward the enemy. The blast tears through the buildings, reducing them to rubble in an instant. My comms crackle with static, then go silent.

Silence.

For a moment, I sit there, frozen in the cockpit. Did I save him? Did I make the right choice?

Then Gunter’s voice comes through the comms, breathless but alive. “Thanks, Eds. I thought that was it.”

But the eerie voice returns, hauntingly clear now.

“Friend, no foe.”

Where did it come from? I look at the HUD, trying to locate the source. Was it the enemy? I quickly transmit back, "Who are you? What do you want?" but the only response is screeching static before silence returns.

"Get back to base, fast. Dr. Mengue’s waiting for you. We’ll deal with the report later," Colonel Zimmerman's voice thundered through the comms.

I exhale, but the relief is short-lived. My eyes flick to the radar, scanning the area where the buildings once stood and the creatures laid. There’s nothing left.

No movement. No signs of life. Did I really see Gunter cornered?

The battlefield lies silent, but the weight of my choice grows heavier with every passing second. I saved Gunter... but what have I unleashed? The alien voice still echoes in my mind, its meaning gnawing at me. Friend. No foe. What does it want? And what have I done?

The rest of the journey back to base proved much less eventful.

"Thank you for getting Gunter back safely. It is no small feat. You must be exhausted, having to sortie twice this day. Please, rest up and Dr. Mengue will be waiting for you when you wake," Colonel Zimmerman says reassuringly.

I drift to a deep sleep.

...

I wake up to Dr. Mengue sitting on a chair beside my bunk. She smiles warmly as I wake, "Your mind seems to have taken quite the toll. Please, drink some of this fluid. It'll help give you a much needed energy boost." I drink up. I feel the liquid pulse through my body, warmth spreading to my limbs. My vision sharpens as the grogginess of sleep fades, but there's a strange clarity now, almost too sharp. My head feels lighter. I glance at Dr. Mengue, who watches me with her steady, reassuring gaze, her smile never faltering.

“You did well out there, Edward,” she begins, her voice soft, yet measured. “But we need to ensure that your mind is where it needs to be before you go back out again. This war, the things you’ve seen—it takes a toll.”

I sit up slowly, my body still adjusting to the boost from the drink. "I feel fine," I say, trying to mask the fatigue still gnawing at me.

“Even so, we need to evaluate the deeper layers of your psyche. You’ve been through a lot today, and even if you can’t feel the strain, your mind carries the weight.”

She reaches into a small metallic case by her side and pulls out a sleek, thin device—a cylindrical object with a glowing blue interface. It hums faintly as she brings it closer to me.

“Lie back for me, please. This won’t take long.”

I hesitate for a moment, but then recline on the bed. The ceiling above me blurs as she presses the device gently to the side of my temple. It’s cool to the touch. The humming grows louder, then fades as something deeper seems to resonate inside my skull.

“We call this the Psi-Resonator,” she explains, her tone casual, but there's an underlying sense of importance. "It’s a tool to help us map out the state of your mind, your emotions, your subconscious reactions. It will reveal stress fractures, emotional imbalances—anything that might affect your performance."

I frown, feeling a slight pressure behind my eyes. "Stress fractures?"

“Don’t worry,” she says quickly, almost too quickly. “It’s normal for soldiers to have these after extended combat. It’s why we do these evaluations—to keep you in fighting shape, mentally.”

The Psi-Resonator hums steadily against my temple as Dr. Mengue continues her evaluation. The room is quiet, save for the faint, rhythmic beeping of machines. I feel my mind unwinding—memories surfacing, then retreating into the depths of my consciousness. But the silence doesn’t last for long.

Across the room, a large holoscreen flickers to life, casting a pale blue glow over the metallic walls. It's a broadcast from Mission Control, the familiar emblem of the Empire rotating slowly before the screen resolves into the image of a grim-faced officer.

Dr. Mengue doesn’t look up, her focus entirely on the data streaming across her tablet. But I can’t take my eyes off the screen.

“Attention, all units,” the officer says, his voice clipped and formal. “By order of the High Command, a ceasefire has been declared effective immediately. All combat operations are to cease. Lower your weapons. Await further instructions.”

A ceasefire? My mind stumbles over the words as the officer continues, the Psi-Resonator still tugging at the edges of my thoughts. My brain feels split between two realities—the cold, sterile room of the evaluation, and the sudden, disorienting prospect that the war could end at any moment.

The broadcast switches to a live feed from the frontlines. Giant mechs, like the ones I’d piloted, stand motionless on the battlefield, their weapons lowered. A strange calm has settled over the terrain.

I shift uncomfortably on the bed, my heart pounding despite the soothing pull of the Psi-Resonator. The officer’s words echo in my head, almost too good to believe.

"Dr. Mengue," I finally spoke, my voice slightly trembling, "what if this peace is just another tactic? What if... what I saw out there, that creature... what if they're planning something bigger?"

She paused, her eyes narrowing just slightly as if weighing her response carefully. The Psi-Resonator clicked off with a soft chime, its blue light fading. "It's natural to be suspicious, Edward, especially after what you've been through. The mind struggles to accept sudden changes. But you’re safe now. And we’ll take care of anything unusual."

Dr. Mengue looks up from her tablet, catching the flicker of confusion on my face. She follows my gaze to the holoscreen, her expression softening.

“It’s what we’ve been fighting for, Edward,” she says quietly. “The ceasefire could be the first step toward peace. Isn’t that what you want?”

Her voice is calm, but I catch the subtext—something she’s not saying. I glance back at the holoscreen, watching as the camera zooms in on one of the mechs. It’s standing there, motionless, like a lifeless shell. Its pilot is no doubt receiving the same orders I am.

My chest tightens. Is peace really that simple? After what I just saw today?

The Psi-Resonator hums softly in my ear, as if in response to my racing thoughts. Dr. Mengue taps a few more commands into her tablet, and I feel a strange sense of calm wash over me, my panic smoothing into something quieter, something easier to handle. The tightness in my chest loosens, my breathing steadies.

“It’s hard to process, I know,” she says, her eyes never leaving mine. “Your mind has been in fight mode for so long that the idea of stopping, of having nothing to fight… it’s disorienting.”

I nod slowly, but the unease doesn’t leave me entirely. The Psi-Resonator may have dulled the edge of my anxiety, but beneath the surface, I feel the tension simmering.

“How are you feeling now?” she asks, her voice gentle, almost hypnotic. "Calmer?"

I hesitate before answering. “I guess. But…” I trail off, struggling to articulate the feeling. “It doesn’t feel real. Like something’s missing.”

“What about the voice you mentioned earlier?”

“What voice?” I replied.

Dr. Mengue’s smile is sad, understanding. She sets the tablet aside, leaning forward slightly. “That’s right, Edward. The sudden shift from constant combat to the prospect of peace—it creates a cognitive dissonance. Your mind has been conditioned to expect conflict, so when that conflict is removed, it can feel like something’s wrong, even if nothing is.”

She gestures to the Psi-Resonator. “That’s why we continue these evaluations. We’re not just assessing your current state, we’re preparing you for what comes next.”

I glance back at the screen. The broadcast is still playing, but the volume has faded into the background, the images of the ceasefire somehow distant now, detached from my immediate reality.

I watch her, my mind torn between the sudden quiet of the ceasefire and the deeper, more insidious war happening inside my head. Peace. It feels distant, foreign. I’m not sure how to reconcile it with everything I’ve seen, everything I’ve done.

Dr. Mengue turns back to me, her expression softening. “But you’ll adjust, Edward. You’ve been through worse, and you’ve survived. Just trust the process.”

She places the Psi-Resonator back into its case, the humming ceasing altogether. The room feels different without its subtle presence—emptier, quieter, but the feeling that something has been taken away from me still persists.

“What… what did you do to me?” I ask hesitantly.

“Take some time to rest,” she says, her tone shifting back to its usual warm cadence simultaneously ignoring my question. “We’ll know more about the ceasefire soon.”

With that, she leaves, the door sliding shut behind her with a soft hiss.

I lie back on the bed, staring at the now silent holoscreen. The war could be over. The fighting could stop. But as I close my eyes, all I can see are alien smiles and their mouth mouthing strange words. What were they trying to communicate with me again? And I wonder—will the war ever really end for me?

The cockpit of Canter 01 loomed in my thoughts, a symbol of both my failure and my duty. The uncertainty of what comes next looms over me, a reminder that even in moments of calm, the fight is far from over.

Edward Sander, signing off.

Wow, I never imagined I would write this much. What was my first dabble into journalling solo-rpgs turned into this behemoth (for my standards) of a writing project. I myself for one can't wait for what happens next!

Stay tuned!