Revolutions - Episode 0 - Shadows and Omens

[protheuz]

OoC Thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?472183-Revolutions-OoC)


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The three large figures stand forming a perfect mathematical isosceles triangle between them.

The sisters, blind to the world, focus their attention in the pool of viscous water in their midst, and while they look, they see the patterns of the world.

In their mumbling talk, incomprehensible to any that heard it, they discussed the fate of the world. Wisps of shadow travel to the pool, or perhaps from it, making the conjunction perfect.

“It is Time sisters.” Says Arei'akl as her mind imputes the information, her senses touch the immense rushing river of time “the Key was found. “

A stronger strand of darkness travels into the infernal pool, making the liquid start twirling.

Aroix and Aruilox touch the same spot of the river, letting themselves go with the flow into the future, as the river parts in a delta with the possibilities. Everything was possible, each action several results. But if you saw, if you felt the river, you could sense which path was deeper, more probable… “It isn’t ready yet sister…” says Aroix, followed by a “It isn’t shaped still…” by Aruil.

The liquid rises a few centimeters from the pool, twirling in the air, and their strands of shadow grow. The more of themselves they put on the river, bigger was the chance that they would lose themselves...

But this was important, thinks Arei as she focus and inserts herself deeper into the flow of time, now starting to struggle to remain attached to reality.

“It IS time, sisters… The Key is moving again.”

Aroix and Aruil imitate their sister, strings turning to cords, darkness infusing them.
Aroix says “It is time Arui… It is shaping. It will happen.”

Aruil smiles “Not yet sisters… but it will happen.” Her body starts to levitate as her power and will is focused on the large pool. Her sisters pour their power as well.

Changing something in the future was impossible. Sentients had the power of choice... But changing small events in the present could lead to great probable changes in the future.

The darkness dams a small part of the river, making the probability shift, closing and enhancing other paths.

In unison, the sisters fall gently to the ground, and the darkness seems to dissipate…
“It is time…”

[protheuz]

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A dark figure moves through the night, between two buildings in a dark alley. Quickly behind her, five rough looking thugs follow with weapons in hand.


The girl would make a fine target... And was pretty... A good catch in a boring evening...


She starts to stop as another two goons appear in front of her. The trap was closed, and they would gain their fun. Tomorrow would be another day, one which would see them leave this port...


The girl, all in black, turns and waits for the seven to close around her. Then, lightning quick, charges one of the thugs, ducking under his arms, somersaults and using a blade that, suddenly, was in her hand slits his throat before the man can react.

A minute later, seven bodies were on the ground bleeding and a single girl walked out of the alley with a smile on her face "Jacob Matua..."


She starts a quick run, jumps into the wall, and with three perfectly timed jumps reaches the ceiling of the house - First experience, then... Jacob.

[protheuz]

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James drinks his mix of herbal tea, as he relaxes after a full night working on project “034-A6”, or as it was known by the development team – project “stormlight”. Well, these days projects sprouted like wild fire.


As a war engineer, this job was supposed to be lackluster and boring compared to the thrill of battle… As he touched the gashes on the armor gently, he knew that it had saved him several times in this assignment… The thing was dangerous… So, not as monotonous as he had thought.


Summarizing: The project was going well, and the prototype was near completion... Or maybe a better word would be restored. A few more years of sustained and controlled testing would allow the slow entering of this new technology in the army… or a few months if the plans he heard about were true.


One thing James knew if they were true, someone must be crazy or desperate.

[protheuz]

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The commander watches closely as the snow falls and the cold, even within his cockpit, is almost overbearing.


Next to him his computer screen chirps and comments the battle giving statistical data. The other two members of Azill' Fist inside their Gears watch as closely as the commander.


He mentally notes that the new recruit is doing well, almost as good as his sparring partner the almost too veteran warrior. The clash was real, as training among his unit was paramount and dangerous. And the doctor and the mechanics had to be trained to support and heal real wounds.


The gears clashed, charging and crashing into each other as two freighters, each shot leaving scorch marks on the armors, making the air full of burned plasteel smell and sounds of snow sizzling on superheated metal.


The Fist was almost ready, and that was great, as he had received their marching orders. Soon they would be off this frozen hell.

[protheuz]

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The scout watches closely as engineers and construction machines drag a large wheeled lifter through the forest trees. They were near his base, but attacking them would reveal his people, and bring more problems for all.
But all this heavy machinery, and the trouble it brought, was something he had to keep an close eye on.


For days he had followed then into the jungle – as if that was hard - and found what was the focus of their interest there – the old ruins site.


Some days ago they found a Gear shell, and after that they called for the heavy things.


Why would they be so happy with an old Gear, he didn’t know…

[protheuz]

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The Monk arrives to the sentries in a bad shape. In his highly intricate ceremonial vests stands three bullet marks, from each a burned stench and a steady flow of blood that makes his clothes wet. He had been walking for hours now, since the attack.


“Brother it was stolen…”


The sentry calls aid and approaches the downed monk “What are you saying? What happened to you?”
The fallen Monk adds quickly “There’s no time left brother. It went into Space, I mean…” he coughs and his speech is interrupted. The flow of blood seems to weaken, and so does his voice – he wouldn’t survive for long if he kept on talking.


“Hush.” says the guard. “Medic!” he cries again.


“Please listen to me, it’s import…” he cringes “ant. The Va..ult of Hereic was plundered… And the artifact…” he closes his eyes “was taken…”
The Vault of Hereic was a fabled place in Iridonian myths… “Hush friend” says the guard as the medics arrive and start their work…


The monk passes out, as they remove his clothes to stench the hemorrhage…
In his chest stands a large, intricate tattoo, and in the middle of it was a black triangle inside a large globe – the symbol of Hereic.


The sentry looks at the two doctors. They were looking at each other with a preoccupied face that told everything – if this monk survived it would be a miracle…

[protheuz]

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The city was full of people today, thought Marya, as she walked through the sunny streets. Everywhere, along this avenue, hawkers and peddlers showed their wares to all that passed through. Large lights and holograms tried to advertise the places as the best deals around, but she knew what she wanted. She needed a new suit for her vacation travel to the seashore.


“A ring miss?”, “ Wanna see this bracelet?”, “”Pure silk from beyond the stars”.


Marya went to the suit shop, but before entering, coughed again - This cold was persistent. Even the treatment hadn’t made its job.


Delicately, she puts her hand in front of her mouth, as she coughs again… Strangely, it was getting worse – it didn’t hurt, but it was troubling. How could a member of a noble family, even if minor, behave in public, when her lungs wanted to jump out from her mouth?


The suits were pretty, not as good as some other merchants, but still pretty.


Another irritating cough… but this time she felt her hand wet. It was blood…

[protheuz]

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Wolf looks at his chair in the bridge of one of the new and improved Sword breaker class Frigate, and this whole situation seemed, almost, a dream.

The captain’s chair - his chair, a simple but comfortable black leather thing, was next to the command desk, full of monitors from where he would be in contact with the whole crew…

The dream of his life would be fulfilled, when Aegathia made its maiden flight. The large ship was named after the legendary warrior queen from the old empire - Aegathia, queen of storms and seas.

Who would say James Wolf, the small orphan from Talisia station, could become the leader of thousands of men. Would have this kind of power. He wouldn’t if asked 20 years ago… And sure as hell, the ladies at the orphanage wouldn’t. Brat James, the large nosed kid that happened to be involved in all the drama and confusions, one way or another… If lady Oer could see him now, in his pristine captain uniform, with a trimmed beard, so precise and even, that it didn’t differ one millimeter, she would faint. Wolf grins sadly at the thought and looks at the command personal.

He seats, for the first time, on the soft leather “Mr. Adams, take her out. Let Aegathia spread her wings.”

“Yes sir.” Replies the young pilot, slowly touching the manual controls. As soon as the lever is moved, the large ionic engines come to life, making the structure tremble and the momentum shift, but quickly the inertial dampeners kick in, softening the acceleration feeling. Wolf could be in his living room as this system, in conjunction with the gravity generator, allowed for comfort and space living.

Through the intercoms and holo feeds he could see and hear the Spaceyard workers and the loud siren that accompanied any launch, as a way to give it luck. But through space there was only silence…
The onlookers watched closely as the trail of ionized plasma was left behind, making the large beast accelerate through the vastness.

“Mr. Adams, insert coordinates to Talisia Station, full burn. Mr. Oras activate all weapons systems. Mr. Smith start long range sweeps,”
Before anyone has a chance to ask anything he turns on the internal communicator and addresses the crew “Gentleman, Ladies. This isn’t a simple maiden flight, as we have our first mission on hands from High command.

“ I’m sure you all heard about the rebellion of the so called Tallisians. We are tasked to stop it, before anymore of the colonies has such ideas, and take side with the RUF. From now on we’re on yellow alert, and all outside communications are banned. For earth united. Wolf out.”

This was the day that Wolf became captain… Tomorrow would be the day that he killed everyone that he grew with...

[protheuz]

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The young boy looks at the old woman, circling her. He grey hair is shining today, almost golden at the fading sunlight. She looks into her screen as she reviews the data of today's work.
She notices him and says “What is on your mind child?”

“Why will we do it?”

The senior woman smiles, expecting the question. Children sometimes had this kind of questions, before adulthood smashed all ethics and sense of justice with life.

“First comes day child, then night, and only then day again. Shadows start from light. Life is as real as death. All of this is a part of the normality. All of this is part of the world.” She hardens her voice and continues “. But life can choke out life. Weeds can leave no room for other plants to grow. Some harvesting must be done.”. She smiles a bit sadly and finishes “The next time you enter the building, look at the garden outside. See how beautiful it is, and remember why we must do it.”

[protheuz]

Revolutions

EPISODE 0 - SHADOWS AND OMENS

[protheuz]

22 March 2100 - RUF Transport Ship Alpha 2 - Midway to Talisia space station


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- Briefing room -

In front of you stands Alon Veers, the grey haired veteran that's been Gear leader for the last year.
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Your group - Squad 09 - The Harriers, though not as known as some of others of the RUF, has been part of the efforts to slowly liberate the planet earth from the invaders.
Your last assignement was taking over a launch base and an old starfreighter.

Now you're in space travelling to someplace you don't know.

Lt. Alon speaks with his somber voice "We are on protection duty. A head honcho is going to Talisia station to try to get a bargain ."

He pauses, looks into each of you and continues "You know our supply lines are failing. And even with the raiding we've been getting less and less quantities of Gygravagnite. I think the Talisians are open to re-open tradelines again."

"Any questions, before I go on?"


Ok guys it's up to you. A short description of your character and how's he's intaking this information - and questions if you have them

[Merilan]

T͝h̀e̴ A͘r̛i̷d ̧O͝c̴e͝an,͘ ̢ev͢e̵r-shift́i͞n̷g͞, ͘ev͞er҉-̵w҉e̕a͢r͏ing.̶..͢
A ̀w̸e͡t̛ nu͞r҉se ͠c̡o̸mbs ̨t̡hè fin͡e-toothe͞d s͠alt. ͘M͜e҉sop͜elág͏ic.̕ ҉ ̧Ba͘th̶y̕ṕeĺa͝gic̷.͠ ͠A͞b̶y̵ssal͡p̸el͡a̛gic̨. H͞adal͡p̸e͝l̴ag͝ic. ͠
No̷ńe! N͝òn͢e!͢ No̴ne͠!͢ ͘ No̸né!͡
N̶oth́in̡g̢ noth̀ing̡ nǫt̛hįng͠ n̡o̕t̡hín̷g
Eýe̴s҉, ͏èyes͘, see̕ my̸ ̸ey͝e͟s͟, gr̕an̢t me̛ ́ey̧e̛s, wri̛tḩe̛ iņ ͘e̵yes̨,͟ ̴ȩye͞s ̶o̕f̛ ̨wint͢ér,̴ ͟e͝yes͞ of̛ h͠eŕald͘,̀
The̛ La҉p͢la̛c͜e of̢ ͘t͢i͟m͢e is bu̢t a ̵hound-̛-

Shigure takes a breath. It was like emerging from underwater.

The intravenous linked to her arm begins to circulate the IgG solution into her blood. In front of her, a half-popped blister pack of atypicals sit ontop of the sink. Next to it, an opened film canister of painkillers. A small cup of water is just rippling with the faint movements of the ship they're on.

She looks at herself through the vanity mirror. Pale, but not worryingly pale. Can't see the veins today. Good.

"Yamashiro..." whispers the ex-student and UEF ace to a bronze pendant in her palm. "This is the life I have now. ... if you could see me... would you laugh at me? ... would you shoot at me? If it's you..."

She slumps against the back wall where she's leaned against, and skids to a soft halt on the floor. She presses her lips to it.

A PA comes in through the ceiling speakers.

Squad 09, please attend to the bridge at your earliest convenience. I repeat...

Go time. There's no time for lament.



It was pleasant to be out in space again. Shigure was always a soul borne out in space, without the pull of Earth's gravity -- only that of an artificial space colony's.

The sliding door to the command room whisks open with a soft whisper of compressed air. The sound of a softly-creaking wheel can be heard.

A young woman with blue eyes and long brown hair enters, seated on an IV pole-equipped wheelchair. An intravenous bag with a faintly milky-white substance can be seen. Immunoglobin treatment, cut with P-Ringer's -- an old solution, for someone who can't afford nanomachines. Her skin is several shades of pale above the norm, and subtle bags are cast around both her eyes. A small braid with a gold hair ornament's been done up on one side of her head. She's thrown on a deep brown cardigan with one sleeve currently rolled up where the intravenous line is doing its work, a white button-up shirt underneath. A knitted blanket covers her lap and legs.

It is Shiratsuyu Shigure, the Avatar of the white-winged Gear, Liberis. An infamous UEF 'ace' turned traitor from five years ago, who made the run from deep within SSA territory on the battleship Prince des Etoiles alone.

"My apologies, Lieutenant," Shigure answers to excuse herself. "I, personally, have never been in this section of space. Would you be able to give us a brief rundown of the Talisian's history...?"

[Ascension]

"You're here for a reason," she tells herself, quiet and quick, a mantra, "You earned this. It's what you get. It's all you get. It's more than you deserve. But you need this. This is how you... This is how you make amends."

Quinn can see her cramped, dimly lit cabin leering over her shoulder in the mirror, and she can still smell a faint tang of old sweat with every breath of recycled air she takes, and it's taking longer and longer each morning to remind herself that by the standards of life outside the Sanctuaries, and by the standards of life onboard space freighters, she's lucky to have this. Truly lucky. But that sorry truth is as strong an argument in favor of revolution as any, isn't it?

Yes. Yes it is.

She rummages in her kit, eventually bringing out a half-empty pot of creme foundation. It's theatrical makeup, intended for stage work, and a half shade off from her skintone, but you know what they say about desperate times... To her eyes, Transport Alpha 2's harsh, utilitarian lighting seems to pick out every flaw, so she needs all the help she can get.

She raises the applicator sponge...


Quinn shows up to the briefing in uniform, or in something conceptually parallel to a uniform. Newer, crisper, better-tailored, trimmed in gold, it bears only a funhouse mirror resemblance to Lt. Alon's dress. Sharp, asymmetrical teal bangs frame her face, pulled from her traveling wig collection; as a rule, she always wears blue, black, or blonde when she wears gold trim or accessories, never the (native) auburn or (dyed) crimson of her natural hair. As she moves into the pool of light around the briefing table itself, a light sheen of glitter sparkles from her cheeks and lashes.

She looks hideously out of place, and she knows it. How could she not, in these surroundings? Particularly when seated directly across from a poor slip of a girl who, for all her infamous reputation, looks as if she might simply expire at any moment. But she has to keep control of herself, her own appearance. She needs that one island of calm.

Lord knows we've got little enough else to hang on to.

"How quiet is this operation?" the propagandist asks, leaning on the table with practiced calm, idly twirling a finger through the neat fringe of her wig. If she keeps it up, it'll need to be restyled before she wears it again. "Escorting dignitaries, gaining allies, replenishing our failing stocks of 3G... all that could play big for morale. Unless the Talisians need to keep their support for us hush-hush?"

[DoctorFaust]

Abruptly, a dark skinned young man in fatigues and a dark leather jacket pushes his way into the group, saluting hastily. Sorry for being late, Lieutenant, but the announcement came when I had bunk time, and it took me a while to get presentable." Almost to accentuate his point, he shoves a hand through the hair he has left on his head, trying to get it slicked down flat.

So, it's Talisian's, and potential goodwill mission? Are we just going to be there for show, to run interference for the actual diplomats if things go south, or are we taking the UEF route to getting them to re-open trade?"

[Amaril]

Seth's wake-up alarm had found him already conscious, staring up at the ceiling of his claustrophobic cabin and trying to get his stomach to stop churning.

It had been the old man, this time. He'd been his eight-year-old self again, digging through that heap of garbage bags in the shadow of that apartment building that had probably been nice to look at once, before the world fell apart. The stranger had approached; he'd tensed to run; the gap-toothed smile in the kindly, wrinkled face had stayed his feet. They'd searched through the pile together, their combined strength enough to heft bags that neither Seth's undeveloped body nor the old man's ailing joints could have moved by themselves. A shadow had passed over his new friend's face; he'd told Seth to hide. Those six other boys, bigger and stronger than he, prowling close. He'd watched the struggle break out from around his corner. Blood pooling on the pavement around the old man's head, seeping from the cracks in his skull. And then he'd started awake, back in 2100, back in his bunk on the Alpha 2, and begun the slow, agonizing process of convincing himself once again that he is no longer that boy, helpless and afraid.

Seth finishes drying his face and lowers the towel to check his reflection one more time. You're not him anymore. There's nothing left to be afraid of.

Out of habit, he checks the old watch on his wrist, broken for the last six years. The blue readout on the black clock face shows four zeroes, the second one flickering in and out of existence.

Zero hours. Time to go.


Seth's face is impassive as he listens to the briefing. It's hard to make oneself look really good in an environment like a military transport ship, but he's at least managed to mask his sleep deprivation. His uniform is clean, his dark brown hair about as neatly combed and parted as it gets, his green eyes alert and trained on the Lieutenant.

"If they want us here for protection, there must be something in particular they're worried about, right?" he speaks up when question are called for. "What kind of threat are we expecting?"

[Sith_Happens]

"Squad 09, please report to the bridge at your earliest convenience. I repeat..."

Jack Hoshimiya groggily leans up out of bed at the sound of the intercom. Eventually registering what the voice from the speakers is saying he then jumps up in a panic.

"S*** s*** s*** s***..."

Moving like a blur, the young man quickly brushes his teeth, changes into his usual black-biker-jacket-over-red-jumpsuit, absentmindedly runs a hand through his absurdly thick brown hair in a halfhearted and completely ineffectual attempt to straighten it out a bit, and rushes out the door in the direction of the bridge. Arriving halfway through Lt. Alon's brief speech he practically leaps into the nearest empty chair with his hand already up.

"Yeah, I have some questions. What's a Talisian? Weren't all the space colonies wiped out in '86? If we can be in space why don't we just, like, nuke the Outsider mothership from orbit and call it a day? That seems like a good plan to me."

[protheuz]

Lt. veers looks at his team and taps a few things on the computer and a holographic display pops in the midst of the table. A Small space station above a large asteroid.

"Well the Talisians are one of the remains of the SSF. Well it's the SSF. When the Outsiders arrived into our planet most of the large colonies were destroyed on the way.
Since then, most of the remaining settlers bunched up in two major colonies.
The Talisians no. They're proud and have access to several Gygravagnite mines and so are trying to rebuild their community."

He pauses and fidgets as if he needed something - you know it was a cigar- something that in space wasn't allowed.

"These last year the SSF stopped all kinds of trade with the UEF and RUF. Either way, it appears the Talisians contacted us and are open to restart trade. That could be the stone that tips the scale in our attrition war with the UEF.”

Looking at Quinn he answers “It’s all very secret now. But the top brass wants all recorded for future propaganda. I believe that was the reason our squad was posted here.”

You can’t really understand if he’s annoyed, or not, by that notion.

“We don’t expect anything, but space is dangerous.
It can even be a trap. From the SSF, from the UEF, from the outsiders. We’re here just in case. I hope this is good vacation time to recover energy.”

Turning to Jack he answers his question “You might be too young to remember, but during the Descent of the mothership through the colonies the SSF forces bombed it with several 3G bombs. It didn’t even slow down. No… If we’re going to send them away, another way has to be found. I don’t know if even the Kuzuryusen canon has power to penetrate the motherships defenses.”

"In the end we'll win. But first is paramount securing the provisions we'll need."

[Ascension]

Quinn's lips twitch up into a smile, a smile she fights to hold as she glances around the room at her distressingly shabby cast. But one makes do... one must make do.

"Okay, you heard the man," she says, and slides into a singsong, "You'll be on ca-me-ra!"

She leans over and tries, with little success, to flick hair out of Jack's face.

"Do try to look your best," she admonishes.

[Merilan]

Shigure pauses to look towards the entire squad -- Jacob, Jack, Seth, Quinn. "The Lieutenant is right," answers Shigure to Jack. "Not all the space colonies were destroyed. I wouldn't be here today if that were the case, either..."

She taps at her chin very softly. "It's coming back to me now. I was very young then. I remember the telecasts of the declaration of independence, and how the seed mines would sustain the Solar Space Alliance on its own. I... had no idea it survived the Battle of 23 Hours, though." She looks almost stuck in sorrowful reminiscence for a moment, but shakes it off. It wasn't in Talisian space, but it's been so long since Shigure had returned to her home colony. What was it like now, she wonders? She knows she is not welcome there anymore, however...

"It makes sense in that context, however. It is likely they have a surplus Gyravagnite, but a deficit of other vital commodities. Given the SSA's history with the Outsiders, they want to pick us over them -- we share a common enemy," she muses.

Shigure certainly is a bit shabby - she's tried one of the RUF uniforms before, but it was too restrictive on her diaphragm... and there wasn't one of her diminuitive size on that front. So, a soft woolen cardigan and shirt for the moment. She smirks, looking at Quinn and Jack. She's earnestly grown to like the crew, it reminds her of the days of the Prince des Etoiles -- even if they were ragtag, there was a real sense of camaraderie that she valued highly.

Her mind has already shifted to their mission, and tactics.

"My treatment will probably finish before we arrive at the station. Would you like us to deploy and set perimeter the moment we reach the station? Between Quinn's cameras, and the speed of Jacob's Hikoboshi and Seth's Timber Wolf to run perimeter, we'll have adequate outwards coverage. Jack and I can run an inner perimeter to watch for on-station disturbances."

[DoctorFaust]

"Uh, sir, do you know why the brass thinks recording a secret mission is in any way a good idea?" Jacob asks. "No offense meant to whatever encryption you have, Quinn, but all it's going to take for the whole thing to leak is one rat with a few more access codes than he should have. And furthermore, I'm more'n happy to run intereference should the need arise, but are any of our actual diplomats going to present for this mission?"

[Amaril]

"Have to agree with Matua, sir," Seth pipes up, leaning forward in his chair. "Even if this is gonna be declassified real quick, do we really want to take that risk?"

[Sith_Happens]

Staring intently at Lt. Veers and muttering something to himself about how they should "...Just drop something on it then," Jack doesn't notice Quinn reaching for his hair until it's too late. As soon as her hand touches his head he jerks in surprise, then blushes slightly when he notices whose hand it is.


"Do try to look your best," she admonishes.

"Uh, sure..."

Certain ongoing conversations in the OOC thread aside... It says "Alluring" right there on Ascencion's character sheet, how would you react?:smalltongue:

[Ascension]

Quinn draws herself up straight in her chair, her good humor almost instantly eclipsed by wounded umbrage.

"Gentlemen, I am shocked. What do you think I plan to do with the footage? Broadcast it across the entire Earth sphere? I understand information security. Hollywood understands information security. Was there a single peep on the internet about the twist in Star Crusade VII before release day? I don't think so. And not for lack of trying on the part of raving fanboys, believe you me."

She flips her hair in disgust, a gesture that would probably be more effective if she'd worn a longer wig today.

"Might as well say we shouldn't have guns; somebody might steal those off an RUF armed freighter in the middle of space, and that'd be a catastrophe." she mutters.

[Merilan]

Shigure's quick to be the mediator, as always. Her voice is soft-spoken, but clear as she says, "Relax, Quinn. I wouldn't doubt your rigour myself. But the meeting is due to take place at a space station - a fully manned one at that. It isn't hard to imagine security leaks in such a case. I imagine that was part of what Jacob was getting at...?"

[Sith_Happens]

"Seriously? How hard can it be to keep secret footage secret? Just don't give it to anyone who shouldn't have it and don't let it get stolen, piece of cake."

[protheuz]

"Top brass wants, top brass gets. I don't have all the information they have. Aboard we have five diplomats that will be paramount in this endeavour.

"But the reopening of conversations is something special. The colonies have been silent for the last year. That's 12 months of black out, comunications and otherwise.

"We'll all launch and secure the landing. Then we'll make teams of 3 patroling against whatever.

"The Tallisians should have their patrols out also. Anyway: Keep your trigger fingers slow. We don't want any diplomatic problems."

[Amaril]

"Understood, sir," Seth nods. The Lieutenant's explanation, or lack of, may have left him just as in the dark about command's reason for recording the mission, but it seems clear they're not about to get any more about it. He's not about to rock the boat. "When are we deploying?"

[DoctorFaust]

"Jack, how damn green are you?." Jacob rubs at his temples, and then says, "It is possible for access computers without permission, even if they don't have the appropriate passwords beforehand. Hacking can be a danger to the secrecy of missions like this, even if we hadn't been ordered to record the whole proceedings. And it really isn't as simple as 'just don't let it be stolen'. But sir, if the brass ordered it, I guess we have to do it. I can have the Hikoboshi ready to sortie fifteen minutes after the briefing ends."

[Merilan]

"For whose sake the footage is there for... that would the the bigger question," Shigure quietly muses to herself. Recorded video often acts as a deterrence for subterfuge or sabotage on the Talisians' end. Or perhaps a purposeful act of sabotage made to smear another's names... there's quite a lot to speculate on, aimlessly. Shigure pauses, realising that she's entering that rabbit hole of thought and paranoia once more.

Well. The question of 'why' or 'for whom' is above her so-called paygrade, really. Though it would have been nice to have been part of the talks herself, but Shigure knows too well that her name is far too stained. There's a faint, distant chuckle at that regard, as the girl looks towards her intravenous line and adjusts the bag slightly.

"I will be ready in a similar time, as well."

[Ascension]

Quinn gives out a strained sigh, annoyed by Jacob's unwillingness to drop the issue, even in the face of orders from above.

"I have a non-networked data vault. If I scrub the cameramen after I make the transfer, your phantom spies will have to physically steal that if they want my video. Of course, if they're already in hiding on the ship, they might as well just look out the window and save themselves the trouble of working to fulfill your hacker fantasies."

She runs a hand through her hair frustratedly, then realizes what she's done and works to smooth it back down. She's not entirely successful, and she sighs again.

"I'll need at least an hour for hair and makeup if the brass want the whole squad on film in the flesh. But if the cameras don't start rolling until we're in our Gears... I suppose fifteen minutes is enough. Since we'll never have enough time to get the Liberis looking new..."

[Sith_Happens]

"Jack, how damn green are you?." Jacob rubs at his temples, and then says, "It is possible for access computers without permission, even if they don't have the appropriate passwords beforehand. Hacking can be a danger to the secrecy of missions like this, even if we hadn't been ordered to record the whole proceedings. And it really isn't as simple as 'just don't let it be stolen'. But sir, if the brass ordered it, I guess we have to do it. I can have the Hikoboshi ready to sortie fifteen minutes after the briefing ends."

"If you mean at keeping our home movies on the down-low, green as can be, duh. You know, 'cause that's Quinn's job? And I don't know about you but I for one like to give people the benefit of the doubt that they can do their jobs."


Quinn gives out a strained sigh, annoyed by Jacob's unwillingness to drop the issue, even in the face of orders from above.

"I have a non-networked data vault. If I scrub the cameramen after I make the transfer, your phantom spies will have to physically steal that if they want my video. Of course, if they're already in hiding on the ship, they might as well just look out the window and save themselves the trouble of working to fulfill your hacker fantasies."

Jack grins and points at Quinn.

"See? Piece of cake.

...Uh, anyways, how soon are we launching?"

[protheuz]

The lieutenant lets the talk between the team fizzle before continuing "The trip there will take 8h 55 minutes from this point. We'll randevous in the launch hold in 8h. You can rest, train or do whatever you want in these hours. Rest is advised. Anymore questions?"

[Amaril]

"If we're splitting in two teams, have they been chosen already?" Seth pipes up, glancing around at the others and running over imaginary combat scenarios.

[Merilan]

Two teams... hmm...

Shigure thinks about it to herself for a bit longer, but if the Lieutenant already has plans for their deployment, so be it. She doesn't know how the Talisian space station is arranged, so it'd be a first time for her anyway. But something is still nagging away at her regarding the recording...

"I still have procedures to follow up in the medical room," Shigure answers, shifting as she makes sure that the intravenous line is still comfortable on her upper arm. "But I will likely take rest afterwards. If you need anything, the nurse's internal comm is available anytime."

She has to admit, one of the really nice parts of joining the RUF is -- well, actually having medical practitioners and nurses available to her. Too long now on the run she's had to just learn about how to take care of herself, and jump from practitioner to practitioner at varying degrees of results... or even rely on black market channels just to get the many, many prescriptions and items she's needed to sustain her body and mind both.

It's a good day. She hasn't had to voraciously snack on antibiotics yet.

The young woman in the wheelchair does remain, though. "Lieutenant... what are your personal thoughts on the recording? Do you believe it's a deterrence from the RUF top brass, in some manner? Propaganda is one matter... but the other reason you'd have a camera is to force everyone on the straight and narrow. Or if they expect sabotage from the beginning..." She quietly shrugs one shoulder afterwards, though.

[DoctorFaust]

"Three might be a better idea than two," Jacob says, clasping his hands behind his back. If we put two teams of two of our lighter and faster GEARs on patrol while keeping two of our more melee oriented GEARs in close to the station, we could patrol a larger area while still protecting the base. The quicker GEARs would be able to close with the station fast enough that we could regroup as a squad before engaging in case things go Charlie Foxtrot on us, and since I'm specced for extreme ranges, it wouldn't really make much sense for me to be in the thick of the fighting."

He pauses and scratches the inside of his arm before continuing. "But I guess that would be up to you, Lieutenant. I'm just going to finish up that rack time you called me away from, and maybe get in my PT for the day."

[Sith_Happens]

"Three teams of two, huh..."

Jack visibly counts the five members of Squad 9.

"Hey L-T, are there any other avatars on this ship or are we on our own?"

[DoctorFaust]

Jacob raises a hand to stop Jack. "****sure. Kamima****a. Two groups of two, one person on their own."

[Sith_Happens]

"<Don't worry about it.> Though you are going to need to fill me in on which besides yours are the 'light and fast' non-melee gears. Can't say I've ever put the Liberis or the Quinn Custom in that category, unless they have some boosters I haven't seen yet."

[Merilan]

Shigure lets out a faint chuckle, and then says, "I would say Seth's Timber Wolf and the Hikoboshi are the fastest we have. The boosters on the Wolf are something else. The Liberis is probably best suited to be alone, since it can cover both long and short-range engagements well."

If it had boosters Jack's never seen before, it's probably long, long gone along with... well, the half of the mobile suit that simply isn't there anymore. There's a telling, gaping cavity on the back of its torso where there was probably once a high-output vernier. But it somehow, through a combination of magnificent wing-flapping and more subtle boosting, doesn't lag too much behind the others'.

Suddenly, the door to the hallway slides open, and an animated bouncing ball of a bird floats in. It looks incredibly cute, in that... fat, flightless derpy bird sense of cute, with brown colouration and an orange 'beak'. "Shigure, mate! Shigure, mate!" it chirps with a certain unmistakable oceanic accent. "The Gear's all sweet, bruh! Sweet-ass, bruh!"

Shigure sighs quietly and scoops the mechanical fat-bird into her lap. "We-ka, don't interrupt meetings, okay? We'll be done soon. But thank you," she responds in a hushed tone, looking apologetic to the rest of the group.

[Amaril]

"I agree," Seth nods at Shigure's assessment. "I know I'm not much good without someone backing me up at range, and I don't think any of us can cover multiple distances as well as Shigure can." He suppresses a groan as We-ka's chirping cuts in--he wouldn't risk offending Shigure by telling her, but as far as he's concerned, that robot is pretty much the most annoying creation in history.

[DoctorFaust]

"Well, yours carries a full load of missiles, yeah?" Jacob says, "And you've kept up with me pretty well during exercises. The Quinn Custom might not be the quickest thing in combat, but for patrolling, it's reactor should be fine, and the same with the Liberis." He gives Seth an apologetic look, and then says, "If anything, the Timber Wolf is probably the least suitable for patroling, even if it's just because your one weapon for at range drains your reactor like nothing else."

He manages to not react when the bird flies in, and continues talking. "Personally, I would put the Quinn Custom and the Timber Wolf on duty at the station with the Jack Atack, the Liberis, and my Hikoboshi on patrol around the system, either with two of them paired off or individually."

[Ascension]

Quinn nods, finding herself in agreement with Jacob for once.

"I do have more range than speed... and keeping my Penderecki close to the station would help me get better footage of the event. With Seth serving as an interceptor, the two of us should be able to hold the line. Or come to the aid of a patrol, if necessary." She shrugs, though, and adds, "That said, tactics are hardly my forte. You all can suss out the details; I'll follow along regardless."

She stands from the table and stretches.

"Well, please do let your techs know your Gears will be on camera. There's still time to buff and polish! Aaaaaand Jacob, Jack?"

The smile she flashes the two leather-jacketed young men is too bright to be genuine, or even particularly friendly.

"It would be lovely if you could find a fresh change of clothes and a comb sometime in the next eight hours. We may not be the diplomats here, but first impressions are oh so important."

[Sith_Happens]

Confusion crosses Jack's face.

"I don't know what you're talking about, I just put these on."

[protheuz]

You see some kind of struggle in his face. His face quickly returns to an even neutral expression "I was told propaganda. But orders from the generals these days have second and third meanings and agendas. I have some ideas why, but none are bad. If someday I think we are being put under the hammer I'll tell you all."

"Ill be out in Quetzalcoatl too for the arriving. From them on the teams will change according to a strict rotation. The 3h rotation schematics will be sent to your personal boxes. In it, each of us has at least one 6h break. Use it to sleep. Sleep is needed to remain in top shape."


Ok guys. You can make more questions, or if not, do whatever you fancy. You can talk to each other, go around the ship, sleep, see the stars, train, polish your Gear whatever.





Quetzalcoatl is a Destroyer chassis variable gear. Its Giant Blade attack is able to pierce almost anything. And he can pump energy to overheat the weapon making it even nastier.
http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c142/Protheuz/th_quetzalcoatl__humanoid_mode__pacific_rim_inspir ed__by_emersontung-d6f97tj_zpsdss2obzz.jpg (http://s26.photobucket.com/user/Protheuz/media/quetzalcoatl__humanoid_mode__pacific_rim_inspired_ _by_emersontung-d6f97tj_zpsdss2obzz.jpg.html)
http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c142/Protheuz/th_panzer_project_quetzalcoatl__pacific_rim_inspir ed__by_emersontung-d65dcun_zpsc9e9och0.jpg (http://s26.photobucket.com/user/Protheuz/media/panzer_project_quetzalcoatl__pacific_rim_inspired_ _by_emersontung-d65dcun_zpsc9e9och0.jpg.html)

[Sith_Happens]

Jack is the first to stand up and immediately starts doing some quick stretches.

"If anyone needs a sparring partner I'm heading to the gym right now. This ship has one of those, right? If not then where's a room empty and out of the way enough to use as a training area?"

[Merilan]

Shigure nods to Lt. Alon. She sympathizes, really -- she knows all too well about how many wheels upon wheels upper management can tend to play. But then she shakes her head, and looks to Quinn. "Thank you, Lieutenant. No more questions."

She's beginning to notice her own breath becoming a little erratic, and redoubles the air she intakes. Mindful diaphragm exercises, to prevent potential blockages to the esophagus and airflow. We-ka's 'ears' flap up and down as it chimes, totally helpfully, "Deep breaths, bruh! Deep breaths!"

Then she looks towards the reporter est fashionista. "I want to catch up with you quickly about something before I head to the medical room, if that is all right?"

[Ascension]

A momentary confusion passes over Quinn as she takes a closer look at Jack.

"...ah. Yes, I suppose you did. It's rather difficult to tell when all you ever wear are... old jumpsuits. Well, if you insist on wearing that, you can at least try not to sweat it up before you go out, yes?"

It's not what she'd like to say to the man, but... baby steps. True change takes time.

She's just about to retreat back to her quarters when her ears perk up at Shigure's words.

"Hm? Oh, certainly."

She steps over to the frail girl's side, lightly touching the arm of her wheelchair.

"What is it, dear?"

[Merilan]

Shigure bows to the others, then rolls out slowly onto the hallway and towards one of the small waiting rooms. We-ka bounces on along with them, but mercifully keeps silent.

"Perhaps... it is just my paranoia again," Shigure speaks silently, looking a little guilty at the fact that they're having this conversation, "But I feel like if anything were to go wrong in the Talisian station, there is as much a chance it will come from inside the station, rather than outside. Or perhaps both."

She taps her fingers on the armrest of her chair. She draws a particularly difficult breath, then centres herself. Her eyes unfocus for a moment, then focus again. "I know you've a solid grasp on covering surveillance on large areas. If it isn't too much a favour, could I ask you to keep tabs with the Cameramen and whatever you're planning to host inside the station?"

The brown-haired girl bobs her head uncomfortably. "... that is, if you believe there is value in it. If you think my hunch is baseless, feel free to say so too."

[DoctorFaust]

"I will take it under consideration, Quinn," Jacob replies as he heads for the door. "But it's a little hard to dress up for space combat, and my hair is too short to comb properly. Lieutenant, if we're excused, I'll be in my bunk."

[Amaril]

Seth hangs his head and rubs his eyes, wanting dearly to go and get some rack time before launching--but he knows it'll be pointless to try and fall asleep now. "I'll be in the sims, if anyone needs me," he announces as he stands up, rolling his shoulders, and heads for the door.

[Sith_Happens]

"I'd join you but most sim rigs aren't exactly configured for me."

Watching Seth leave and then realizing he's the last of Squad 9 left in the room, Jack wraps up his stretches.

"Guess that makes no takers for a little meatspace training? Suit yourselves."

He then makes for the exit as well without waiting for Lt. Veers to perhaps answer his question about which way he should be going.

[protheuz]

"You can use the storage bay 3 or 4 on the left, near the end of the ship. It's almost empty. I would join you if I could. But I have preeminent things to prepare." says Alon

[Ascension]

Shigure's difficulty breathing worries Quinn, but she refrains from commenting on it. Quinn's served long enough with the sickly young woman that the fluctuation of her volatile health has become almost unremarkable, just part of the scenery, like the ebb and flow of the tide.

"You know the colonies better than I do," she says, staying on topic. "If you think the Talisians could pose a threat to us, I'll do my best to keep an eye on them. It's not too easy to get the cameramen to multitask... it's the nature of the PsAICon, you intuitively focus your eyes on one thing at a time, so they intuitively do the same... but we have more than enough prep time for me to establish a preprogrammed search pattern, and I can route the feeds to my secondary screens. As for eyes inside the station... I'll see what I can do."

She can't promise anything specific, but Quinn is fairly certain she can work something out. She tries not to depend too heavily on its influence, but she knows her name carries a lot more weight than her rank in the RUF would indicate.

Before leaving Shigure's side to lay the ground work for her plan, Quinn looks at her again and sees, for a moment, past the squad leader, straight to the pain. Her voice grows tender as she asks, "Is that all?"

[Merilan]

"It's a very precarious time. Even those with the best intentions are going to be on edge," Shigure answers in turn to the topic of the Talisians' threat. She doesn't outright say it, but it's rather clearly implied she doesn't just believe the colonists are the only ones -- other RUF cells may have other ideas to this. "All I want to do... is to ensure that no one acts foolishly. Whether it's out of a sense of self-preservation or for more malicious means."

She smiles with a lighter note, though. "That's all for that. I thank you very much, Quinn. ... though I wouldn't mind being touched up a bit for our appearance, later?" she chuckles bashfully, admitting, "I like how I look when you do makeup for me."

The brown-haired girl bows her head slowly, starting her way out and back towards the medical room. We-ka bounces suit.


Back at the medical room...

"Welcome back, Shiratsuyu," speaks a rather terse-voiced woman -- the medical officer onboard the ship, the rather hardline but fair-hearted Dr. Hennessey. She's been in charge of taking care of the beleaguered Avatar over the last few weeks; Shigure does have to admit, one of the nicest things about joining the RUF is -- well, actually having a medical practitioner be able to take care of you. For too long now, she's been learning slowly and not all effectively how to take care of herself... when you're constantly on the run, you don't exactly have a GP or a reliable place to source your prescriptions and medical equipment. And how Shigure's health is today has definitely reflected darkly on that fact.

"Doctor," the girl nods as she settles in by her desk.

"I hear you'll be deploying in six hours," she speaks in turn, pushing a set of horn-rimmed glasses up. She doesn't sound too amused, as if noting that if she had a fact, she'd have Shigure on bedrest 24/7. "If it were not for that, I would advise you to take up one of the many physical therapy sessions you've pointedly skipped."

Shigure hated physical therapy. She knew it was necessary, of course, but it was really... really quite difficult. Piloting the Liberis into battle was, ironically, nowhere as difficult as... squeezing a tennis ball constantly for fifteen minutes, or joint-manipulation exercises, or balance exercises along a rail. She found it quite miserably painful.

"I'm sorry," Shigure tries to not sound insincere. "I really ought to take rest for the upcoming deployment."

"That cockpit is going to crush you at some point," the doctor reminds, not softening her opinion for the girl at all. "I realise you're more used to a zero-G environment, being a colonist, but the shock absorbers and inertial cancellers on your Gear hasn't...."

"I realise," Shigure answers plainly, undeterred. "But right now, I cannot afford to not deploy into the battlefield. I owe each and every one in the 9th Squad that much."

There's a silent sigh from the doctor, then she helps her up off the wheelchair and off the intravenous line. "Come on. Your bed's been prepared."

"Thank you."

[Ascension]

Quinn smiles warmly as she watches Shigure and her cute (if rather obnoxious, at times) companion go. She deeply appreciates feeling... well, appreciated.

She doesn't have time to simply rest on her laurels in a haze of self-satisfaction, though. She has much to do in order to prepare... setting search patterns for the cameramen, speaking with someone in the diplomats' security detail (Revin, perhaps? She's always suspected he might have a crush on her.), settling on what to wear into battle, finding a few hours for sleep... oh, and seeing what she has left that will go with Shigure's complexion, of course. Much to do, much to do.

She hums softly to herself as she goes.

[protheuz]

T minus 8h
As you prepare for the mission ahead, each on your own way, Lt. Alon goes into a meeting with the captain of the ship, the ambassadors and several high ranking military personal on board representing tech team, security team, among others.
If any of you saw him when he left, an hour later, his face wasn't a happy one!

The loud engines in the back of the ship scream, as the boiling ionized plasma is ejected from the rear, leaving a blue line behind the ship.

T minus 3h
The hours seem to stretch. As some of you look outside the viewport the blackness and emptiness of space is astounding. And to think that only a thin layer of metal, plastic and porcelain stands between the inside and outside of the old transport ship.

A minute passes. Another one, another.

The crew you pass is all in a relaxed-stressed state, with a restrained activity. The ship seemed as if it was a spring. Slowly being pressed. Ready to spring when the time was right.

The stars outside brighten the horizon, and the large G-engines ionize matter quickly and loudly, continuing the trail.

T minus 1h
Time for the meeting in the launch hold - a slightly modified cargo hold. In the left wall, large cranes and magnetic hooks support and secure the six gears, that are all lined up and open ready for its Avatars.

The largest gear - Quetzalcoatl - occupies almost the same space as all the others combined.

Techs are still finishing the routine, pre flight checks as Lt. Alon drops from the chest of the large gear wearing his avatar suit and a cerimonial katana at his hip.

"See that shuttle over there? That will be our main goal during this mission. Whatever happens that shuttle contains our diplomats and officers. They must be protected against all costs."

"We'll deploy first, secure the area and only then it will launch and dock to the station."

"Launch order will be Matua, Shigure, Baumann, Quinn, Hoshimiya and finally me. As you go out spread and start scanning."

"Questions?"

[Merilan]

T minus 3h

Shigure gazes to the vacuum of space from her ward bed, slowly counting the stars where she can glance upon them. We-ka quietly natters wordlessly about her, its mechanical wings flapping up and down. "Shigure, mate, Shigure. Leave a log, bruh?"

The ex-student looks towards her mechanical component, which she sourced on a Verne colony long ago. She still remembers that the only reason she picked We-ka over the other models was... well, it was truthfully half off and the owner looked like he'd gotten more than a little sick of it. So, for the bargain basement price of 30 universal reserve notes...

"True, We-ka," Shigure answers, tiredly. She closes her eyes, and tries to recall the memories of the day prior.

Her mind's always been faulty, and she knows that. That's why she got We-ka. She needed a mechanical organiser that could just be spoken to. To better preserve her memories, knowledge and sentiments... should the degradation ever worsen, and she forget more and more of herself.

"Shiratsuyu Shigure, year 2100 log 83.
For the first time in what seems like forever, I'm headed to a new part of outer space.
Talisia... I feel like I might've had a classmate back on the White Ark from there, but we never spoke much. I think her name was Elly. Or perhaps it was Verne?

... it's been a while, hasn't it? I feel comforted to be back here, where Earth's gravity does not pull me down.
Earth is a heavy planet, for a colonist like myself. The gravity is -- it's like -- the tap water from one country to another.
For some, it's drinkable, comfortable -- for others, there's a strange taste that puts them off off it. It serves the same function, everywhere, but there are slight differences that only a non-native would pick up on.

But I can't deny the Earth is beautiful, no matter what.
I understand the pride that people have in it. The tinge of satisfaction that they have, when they speak about their countries. I've been reading up on Samoa recently, thanks to Matua. I regret not visiting back when I was hiding in New Zealand. It must be a truly beautiful place..."

A pause.

"Dr. Hennessey is weaning my clozaril dose down by 25 mg.
We'll need to follow the neutrophil trend and see if it drops any lower. She-- thinks it's got to do with Earth-to-Space readjustment. It's dropped lower before in the past, so I'm not too worried. We'll need to see how it goes.

... well, that's about it for now. See you soon, me.

And... if you happen to be hearing this for the first time: Please don't give up hope. The world may be a scary place, but it is a wonderful place as well. Never forget that."

T minus 1h

Docked on the 02 launch bay is one of the more unusual Gears present within the Transport - the Liberis (or the Liberis "Repair", as its database designation now officially calls it).

A humanoid Gear standing at 16.7m of head height, predominantly cast in shimmering white and blue, possessing the likeness of an angel. A fallen angel, far from the graces of Heaven. The flight and atmospheric controls embedded onto the Liberis primarily manifest in the form of large, dominating white wings that furl around the main body of the machine -- two straight "main" wings along the back that serve as the main thrusters and weapons recharge rack, and two furling "side wings" that also house and embody the Variable Plumage Shedding system and Pinions visible at its skirt level.

It's a sorry sight, in all truth. Much of the armour has been chipping away; vulcan pockmarks, beam saber swaths, and the telltale wash of mega particle cannons all tell individual battlefield stories along its surfaces everywhere. The legs are not so much legs than a sordid reminder of an explosive disaster, caked in what looks like irregular, irreverent crystalline chunks of hardened Gyravagnite and an explosion of cables and hydraulic pumps that really ought to be modestly tucked underneath hip or calf armour. While its left arm is primarily intact, carrying one of two of its trademark Buster Rifle armament, the right is hidden underneath a laminated tarp that coats around its crested epaulets. Its symmetrical twin sits on a weapon rack behind it, currently incapable of being deployed due to the lack of a right arm.

And that's nothing to say about the strange song-like whispers some of the mechanics say they've been hearing from within.

Shigure is standing in a modified white Avatar suit, designed to support the difficulty she has with the normal pressures of a piloting suit. It's predominantly white with splashes of blue, much like the colour of her Gear.

"Have our scanners picked on any irregularities yet? And no word of trouble from Talisia station, I take it?"

[DoctorFaust]

Jacob, having been true to his word and spent most of the last eight hours flat on his back, looks noticeably more alert when he sticks his head up out of the internals of the cockpit of his Hikoboshi at Shigure's voice. The pink GEAR, though Jacob would never admit that was the color it's painted, looks distinctly archaic sitting next to some of the newer GEARs in the squad, and given that many of them are experimental prototypes and his is a modified antique, calling it archaic would not be inappropriate.

It's forward-swept wings, jet style thrusters, and obvious cockpit mark it as nearly predating the arrival of the Outsiders and definitely having been built before the liberation of Hiryu, but no one that had ever seen Jacob at it's helm could deny that it's a fearsome sight in the right hands. Especially given the two wing mounted micromissile launchers, the Armor Breaker mounted on the top, and the underslung beam rifle sticking out from both the back and front of the GEAR.

"Are there any specific IFF codes we should be looking out for, Sir," Jacob calls, "Or is anything not returning RUF or Talisian codes to be considered a threat?"

[Ascension]

T minus 1h

Quinn's custom Penderecki sags from its support cranes, only loosely cradled in a berth configured for the bulkier dimensions of the standard BGM-001. It's an indignity, but one she must bear, at least for the moment. It's secured well enough that it's not a security hazard, and that's mission accomplished as far as most of the transport's tech staff is concerned.

In any case, despite its poor posture, her Penderecki gleams. As one of the most standard Gears among the 09th Squad's menagerie (along with the "Jack Attack," whose exotic components are mostly internal), it can draw from a (relatively) ready supply of spare parts, and Quinn has staked her own money to guarantee that its hot-rod-red paint job stays sharp. It didn't look as good as it looks now when it first stepped out of the factory.

Quinn's Avatar suit is itself a custom job, one of the three she owns (so far). It's a darker red than her Gear, matching the crimson of her hair (braided to better fit inside her helmet: a small concession to comfort, though she assures herself it still looks good), slashed with teal stars that mirror her lipstick. Despite her best efforts, she looks a shade more haggard than she did eight hours prior... her preparations went well enough, but sleep did not come easy to her, on a narrow bunk thrumming with the thrust of the transport's engines.

This trip had better be worth it, she thinks, allowing herself a moment of pique. Her mind wanders off into a cheerful string of invectives she might hurl at Transport Alpha 2 if the situation were not so truly dire, and a faint smile touches her lips.

[Sith_Happens]

T minus 8h

Training. Every inch of Jack Hoshimiya's body becomes drenched with sweat as he practices for nearly four consecutive hours, cycling through forms and exercises from six distinct martial arts before beginning to mix them together into the furious improvised style that his squadmates have grown accustomed to seeing him use through his Gear's controls. Upon finally deciding that he's finished for now, he chugs an entire gallon of water in one go and sits down for a short rest.

T minus 3.5h

Entering the launch bay, Jack hands the nearest technician a thumb drive while pointing at the FIES.

"See that Gear there? Here's a list of systems tests and maintenance checks I need done on it. Pops and his team usually have them done in 45 minutes, but he designed the thing so that's probably a lot faster than normal. Don't worry, I won't be timing you, careful is better than fast."

As soon as the tech has taken the drive Jack turns around and waves encouragingly as he leaves.

T minus 3h

Unfortunately for Jack, he neglected to consider when he'd be sleeping before training for so long first. Oh well, an hour and a half or so meditating should do the trick anyways.

T minus 1.5h

Shower, fresh clothes, comb hair with actual comb, grab a light meal to go as he heads for the launch bay.

T minus 1h (just before Lt. Veer's brief briefing)

Jack walks into the hangar bay bright as a summer day, waving to the other members of Squad 9 as he spots them.

"Looking good everyone, nice and ready for some action. Especially you Shigure, always good to see you on your feet."

Stopping in a relatively central location, he immediately starts doing stretches.

[Fashion Report: While Jack did more or less take Quinn's suggestion to mind, the results aren't much. Though he's technically wearing a different jumpsuit and jacket, the differences are so slight that only Quinn's own discerning eye would have any hope of making that out. His hair, on the other hand, is somewhat improved; while "nice" would be a hell of a stretch, there's at least something approaching a rhyme or reason behind which ways it's going.]

[...]


"Questions?"

"Yeah, any particular formation we should be taking or were you saving that part until we've actually launched?"

[Amaril]

T minus 8h

The simulated GAF Gear raises its cannon once again, the barrel already starting to glow with the beginning of another volley of beam fire. With a flash that would blind Seth if not for the protection of his external sensors, the first ray of searing energy erupts from the weapon, crossing the distance between their machines in an imperceptible fraction of a second.

The Timber Wolf is already gone when it arrives. Inside the recreation of his cockpit, Seth's hands guide his throttle controls absent of any conscious direction. Absorbed in the fight, he guides his Gear from that unthinking, trancelike place he finds in the heat of combat, running on adrenaline and instinct. He gives his thrusters another kick as his opponent struggles to track his movements, sending more beams fanning out after the first.

His breaths come fast and shallow. In; the gap is closed. Out; sword up, horizontal cut on pass. In; slight resistance as the blade connects. Out; the Timber Wolf flies clear, the force of the enemy's explosion pushing it onward.

Up in the corner of his HUD, the simulator's readout tallies up another kill. Carefully adjusting his trajectory, Seth brings his Gear back around in a wide arc, his view lighting up with more hostile IFF markers as the enemy force comes back into view. He brings himself out of his combat focus for a moment, taking a slow, deep breath and shaking his head clear. If only the real ones were this predictable.

He throttles up again, ready for more.

T minus 1h

Seth hardly looks any more refreshed as he stands with the rest of the team, but a short, fitful nap and a hurried meal of ship rations have at least kept him on his feet. He's already donned his Avatar suit, a standard-issue UAF design without modification or adornment beyond a single patch sewn to the right shoulder: a silhouetted wolf's head.

The same design is repeated in the same place on his Gear--in contrast to his suit, anything but standard issue. A little on the small side compared to some of the others, and positively dwarfed by the Quetzelcoatl, the Timber Wolf's white and grey plating is all sleek curves, lightweight and compact in the name of speed and agility. Its left hand keeps a tight grip on its short-barrelled charge cannon, painted to match the Gear that carries it; upon the Wolf's left hip is mounted the vacuum ejector sheath containing its R-98 beam saber, ready to be launched into the suit's right hand and driven home by the precision thrusters arrayed along its forearm. Seeing the Timber Wolf standing ready beside the other Gears, supported by its cranes and cables, Seth can't help but be reminded of a real animal, tensed to launch into pursuit of its prey as soon as its leash is released.

Or maybe that's just him compensating for the others being bigger.

He keeps quiet as the others ask the questions, content to let them direct the conversation for the moment.

[protheuz]

"Our scanners didn't return any problems. And from the Tallisians we haven't heard of any trouble. Nevertheless we should expect trouble. Not that will happen, but just prepare and act as if it will."
He stops a bit and looks at his gear - the large blue heavily armored gear, with a sword-arm. The blade extending to the ground - as big as some of the smaller gears.

He answers Jacob "We should do that. We should not trust the Tallisians too much also. Be on guard always."

"About formation" He picks a pad that emits a 3d image of the ship and the station "Firegroup 1 will be constituted by the first three out. You'll be the scouting group. The last three will be the Anchor group and stay closer to the ship."

[Merilan]

Shigure looks towards the 3D image, letting her mind run through scenarios once more. She couldn't help it. At some point, she started looking at structures and buildings like potential death traps; she got very familiar with exits to a room and a building. Fire escapes, routes to lifepods, alternate routes in case of emergency failure, shortcuts to the hangars...

Being alone and on the run sucked. A lot.

Not anymore, though. Or at least... not for the moment. She nods to Jack and says, "I am glad I have enough wherewithal to stand too. I have no further questions, Lieutenant. I should probably start assisting in the pre-flight checks for the Liberis... you never know when something will fail inside -- or outside -- of it."

She glances up towards the white-winged suit for a moment, as if she just heard something from its direction.

I understand, Lemne... be ever watchful, as you always are.

The eyes to the suit gleam with a subtle emerald light, but then again, some of the technicians are working on clearing the camera outputs at the moment.

[Amaril]

"Wait, I'm part of the scouting group?" Seth pipes up, before remembering that that would be questioning orders without permission and hastily clamping his mouth shut again. This throws a bit of a wrench in his expectations--he'd been assuming he'd be guarding the objective, like the others had been suggesting earlier. He fidgets in place, anxious over what seems like an obvious tactical error...but his eyes fall on the rest of the squad, and the worry leaves him. He imagines hanging back while others face the danger, and feels his shoulders tensing, hands curling into fists. Come on, could you sit by and let that happen?

Straightening up, he salutes the Lieutenant. "Ready and able, sir."

[DoctorFaust]

"Alright, I'm sure we'll all do you proud. Or, reasonably competently, anyway." Jacob stands up in his cockpit, strips off his shirt, tosses it to the hangar floor, and whistles at one of the techs walking nearby. "Mendez! Can you bring me my Avatar suit? If you don't have the code for that locker, Lydia in electronics should."

[Ascension]

Quinn nods along with the Lieutenant's orders. It's not quite what she and the others were plotting out at the earlier briefing, but the slight shift in formation is no threat to Shigure and Quinn's other plans. Having no questions herself, she's about to turn her own attention to pre-flight checks when...

...when Jacob simply takes off his shirt and throws it down on the dirty hangar deck right in front of her. What? Who does that?

Was he raised by wolves?

"Jacob Matua," she calls out, in the tone of a teacher singling out an unruly pupil, "Who are you expecting to pick up your dirty laundry?"

[Merilan]

Shigure's used to Jacob's rather casual nature by now, chuckling very faintly but -- noticing the hiccup and question from Seth. She watches him for a bit, and after he salutes the Lieutenant passes by him to reassure, "It'll be fine. We won't leave you exposed to a ranged assault. The Pinions can pull double duty to that," as she looks to the Liberis' side wings where the feather-shaped remote weapons rest at the extreme ends of its wingspan. "We can count on you to chase down anyone coming after Matua and I, right?"

Better to get Seth to think about his strengths than his weakness, Shigure thinks. She knows Seth's clever and motivated enough on his own.

[DoctorFaust]

"I'll get it after we sortie," Jacob replies, returning to working on the control panel of his GEAR. "We're only out for three hours at a time, techs know they can kick my stuff out of the way if they need to, and the shirt was dirty anyway."

[Amaril]

"Huh?" Shigure's question catches him off-guard. "Oh, uh...yeah, yeah, definitely. Don't worry about it." He hesitates for another moment, feeling like he should say something else, but ends up just turning to walk away again, unable to think of anything. Why would she ask me that? Does she think I can't do it? He silences that line of thinking as soon as it starts. Come on, man, talk about reading too much into things. Just focus on the mission.

[Ascension]

Quinn glares at Jacob.

She glares at the shirt.

She turns away... or rather, she tries to turn away. She does try.

Her eye twitches.

She looks down at her hands, encased in the gloves of her Avatar suit.

She sighs.

She crosses the deck and gingerly picks up the shirt, shakes off any dust, real or imagined, that may have accumulated on it, folds it simply but neatly, and lays it across a nearby tool chest.

She stalks toward her Penderecki, shaking her hands as if she's trying to shake them hard enough to physically fling any germs or grease off them, wondering if she has time to wash them before the preflight sequence.

Someday that man has got to learn how to act like an adult.

[Sith_Happens]

"Wait, so I'm seriously in the back? Laaaaaame..."

Jack idly continues stretching, seemingly oblivious to how late he's just entered the conversation.

[protheuz]

Time speeds quickly in these last minutes as everyone readies themselves.

About 10 minutes to the station Lt. Alon commands
"Start deployment sequence Firegroup 1. The scanner shows no anormalities, and we have wave contacte with the Tallisians. It's a go."

From the viewports the huge metallic structure of the station is almost seem.

http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c142/Protheuz/steamworkshop_webupload_previewfile_412587437_prev iew_zpsrdjq9bom.jpg (http://s26.photobucket.com/user/Protheuz/media/steamworkshop_webupload_previewfile_412587437_prev iew_zpsrdjq9bom.jpg.html)

[DoctorFaust]

"Go confirmed," comes the reply from Jacob, now fully dressed in his Avatar suit and hooked into the Hikoboshi. "Checking comms."

"Kyuun kyuun, kyuun kyuun..."

"Alright, comms are green, engines one, two, and three are showing green across the board." As he talks, the jet engine at the back of the Hikoboshi begins to spin up, as do the two maneuvering engines at the tips of its wings. "Weapons are showing...ah, hey, Mendez, what did you do to the primary energy si... wait, never mind, all weapons are in the green, electronics are showing green, Hikoboshi is ready for launch."

With the flip of two last switches, Jacob waves to the crew manning the crane his GEAR is mounted to, and it begins to slowly rotate around to face the hangar bay doors. He slaps down his glare visor, flashes Lieutenant Alton the "OK" sign, and then guns the engines, sending the Hikoboshi darting out into space.

[Merilan]

Shigure sinks into the Liberis' drawer-style cockpit, aided by one of the on-hand technicians. The hatch above shuts with a small hiss of compressed air above her -- failing to seal shut once, then locking to an airtight close. The last cracks of light from the hangar bay disappear.

It is pitch black and soundproof within, as if aiming to shut away the woes of the world around her... For just a brief moment, Shigure allows herself that, letting her mind blank away into the darkness. It is the moment of calm before the storm, both physically and mentally. It wouldn't be long before she forces herself to keep thinking, to keep searching and filtering through situations and outcomes and consequences. To keep outwitting and exhausting herself in tepid little games of overthinking and paranoia, lest she miss a possible scenario, a possible outcome, and let someone else die on her watch.

Desperately, Shigure wants to keep her thoughts pure right now, though only having a cruelly small portion of the night away for herself. She draws the locket at her neck to her fingers, running it over her fingertips lovingly, then up to her lips.

Yamashiro...
Each time I launch under the Rebellion's flag, I wonder...
If we were to meet on the battlefield... what would you do? Could you forgive me? As for me...
If it was you... well... then... maybe I wouldn't mind--

Shiratsuyu Shigure, Slot 02 of Firegroup 1, you are clear for takeoff. I repeat...

She sets the locket down, and faces forward. It begins.

"Condenser Tank power flow engaged. Confirming saturation of G-Filter levels, impurity levels within... 17.13% percent."

That's not good.

"Error margins are within... two and a half standard deviations. I'm modifying the subroutines right now..."

Her fingers are already flying on the keyboard, modifying the start-up script that she's had to patch up just the night before. This happens all the time with the Condenser Tank. The tank is a rudimentary piece of technology that quite frankly doesn't support the needs and capacity of the Lemniscatus Engine, but no one's found a suitable replacement yet. It's a silver lining that Shigure is essentially the author and owner of the Liberis' own OS -- a software engineering project in her final year that went from being a twelve-month thesis to a life-long nightmare.

"... ... Lemniscatus Drive, subroutine 01-h and 02-b are active. The connection will hold.
Calibration template, set. Readjusting movement matrix to predefined zero-moment point from CPG...
Rebuilding PsAICom neural network profile to Q-LC, confirming forward-feedback resiliency time.
Transferring control functions, correcting for Coriolis deviation..."

A fateful glass orb is the first thing that lights up in front of her, illuminating her otherwise lightless cockpit with its soft blue hue. A sphere that lets her pretend to gaze upon the myriad truths that surround the battlefield of ambiguity. A reductionist sphere of selfish thoughts, devoid of humanity and empathy. Treating the lives of many as a mere statistic, treating the habits and learned motions of soldiers as little factoids and deviations from the one true path. The face of the battlefield itself is reflected upon Shigure's eyes.

A low whistling noise climbs to a shrill pitch, and the rest of the cabin lights come onboard, one by one. The panes to her left and right ebb into life, and a stack of lights trawl back to her arms along her linear seat.

Outside, the Liberis' eyes shimmer to an irisoid green. The technicians step backward and give her a wide berth to clear. Given the lack of the unit's legs, they've had to draw her down on the support hooks and essentially lay it down and treat it as an aircraft. The Gear's main wings lift, and its side wings deviate onto the sides and play level to the Transport ship floor. Motes of light blue seep within the main verniers hosted on the underside of the foil, that telltale suspense as the light-blue flare of speed comes to life.

She's silently relieved that her workaround-to-a-workaround to start up the Lemniscatus Drive worked. She can see the grin on Acting Technician Askarov's face as well, who worked overnight two days ago to bypass the limitations of the Condenser Tank with her.

"Pre-flight checks completed. I have control.
Shiratsuyu Shigure. XG-00 Liberis Repair. Launching."

The white-winged Gear is a distant swirl of vernier lights within moments, roaring out into the expanse of space furled within the embrace of its wings. The Liberis isn't so much a Gear right now as a nestled cocoon of downs in its escape. Translucent molting feathers cascade in its wake, a characteristic sign of its heat-venting system, billowing into a gentle and harmless trail behind it.

[Amaril]

The Timber Wolf's segmented chest plating slides closed with the low whine of well-maintained machinery, the light from the hangar deck shrinking to narrow cracks and then disappearing altogether. In the dark, Seth checks the fastening on his helmet one more time before easing back into his seat, taking slow, steadying breaths.

"HAP-003 Timber Wolf, system start," he says into the darkness, taking care to enunciate each syllable. "Authorization Seth Baumann, 02876. Passcode: sic 'em, boy." With the last word, the cockpit lights flare to life, the familiar pneumatic hiss of the atmospheric seal filling Seth's ears, bringing with it the same headache and slight nausea as always. He chuckles at the reminder of his luck as he goes through his startup checks--an ace Avatar who gets pressure headaches. Bet Quinn wouldn't think much of that image.

...Repeat, Seth Baumann, slot three, you are clear for takeoff.

"Copy," Seth acknowledges, coming back to the moment. "Confirming G-reaction containment...confirmed...G-engine power flow engaged." The cockpit begins to thrum with the flow of energy from the Timber Wolf's power core, the vibrations palpable even through the seat and the heavy Avatar suit. "Inner chamber pressure rising normally. PsAICon primary interface online. Mobility assist array, active...primary propulsion, ready..." One by one, the thrusters and buoyancy pods add their vibrations to the chorus inside the cockpit, a rumble that speaks to Seth of strength held in check, content to wait as long as needed, yet ready to be unleashed with the slightest touch. His hands are as steady on the real controls as the simulators'. He hasn't survived this long fighting for the rebellion by letting fear of anyone's strength, his own or another's, keep him from doing his job.

It's okay to be scared of it. You should be. But it's just like a real animal. Give in to the fear and it'll turn around and tear your throat out. Control it, and you two will be unstoppable.

"Pre-flight checks complete. I have control. Seth Baumann, HAP-003 Timber Wolf, launching."

The thrusters kick, and Seth is out in the void. He keeps a little to the side of the assigned course, to stay out of Shigure's feather trail. Overdesigned piece of junk Liberis...

[Ascension]

The Penderecki's outsized reactor and integral Lux Cannon take up much of its torso, and its neck actuator is shielded by a thick armored collar, forcing Quinn to shimmy down a narrow passageway to reach its cramped cockpit. Something about the process always puts her in mind of sliding down the gullet of some great beast, to lodge in its belly. Despite the tight quarters, though, she's done her best to make her cockpit feel like home. The seat conforms ergonomically to her body, and her screens are fringed with artifacts of her life: a light smattering of fanmail, a creased photo of her parents, a copy of the signature page from the pledge she signed to join the RUF...

She hurries through the preliminary checks on her Penderecki's subsidiary touchscreens... she was in her Gear only a few hours before setting up search patterns for the cameramen, and in any case she trusts her techs, so she skims her way through the lists and status readouts rather than going item by item, looking only so far as to confirm no deviation from the expected green boards. When the prelims are cleared, she engages her assisted targeting system, and Penderecki's main screens flare to life.

Despite all the time she's logged in her machine and in quality simulators, the initial moment of SMARTS activation still makes her breath catch in her throat. For a moment all the world is immersed in the warning orange of unidentified contact, and she finds herself counting off the heartbeats she can hear in her ears.

One, two, three...

By the time she gets to four, her sensors have again cataloged the world, and the markers highlighting the people and idle Gears populating the hangar around her all glow a cool, friendly green. Surrounded by this many friendlies, she couldn't fire weapons even if she wanted to, not without command authorization to retag IFFs first. Her breath returns, and she allows herself to grip the control sticks.

"Fire Group 2, Slot 1, you are clear. You may launch when ready."

"Copy that," Quinn responds, her tone now clipped and businesslike, devoid of its usual flourish. She can be serious when she needs to be. "Systems green, SMARTS active and stable. Easing reactor out of standby mode. PsAICon... initiating."

Even though she can barely recognize the feeling of its activation as an external sensation, designed as it is to run off near-subconscious thought, Quinn has never been entirely comfortable with the PsAICon, so she always holds off on engaging it until the last possible second. The sooner afterward she's in motion, the sooner she has other things to occupy her mind, and the sooner her skin stops crawling.

She walks her Gear out of its bay and into launch position.

"Quinn Shapiro, BGM-001-Q Penderecki Quinn Custom... heading out!"

With a flare of thrusters, she's out into open space, her Gear's wide visor glinting in the light of the strangely distant sun. She soon throttles down to coast on momentum. Best to wait for Lt. Veers to take the lead.

[Sith_Happens]

Fire Group 2, Slot 2, you are clear to launch.

Having already strapped himself into and warmed up his Gear ten minutes ago, Jack grins under his virtual reality helmet as it's finally his turn.

"Copy that. All systems green."

Barely a moment passes after the Jack Attack is set down on the floor and unhooked before it's barreling out of the launch bay at full speed, thrusters flaring and claws already extended. One of the side benefits of the Full Immersion Enactment System is that Jack can simply feel whether there's anything wrong with his Gear. No need for a wasted minute of startup checks, just turn the thing on and you're either ready to go or not.

"ALL RIGHT, LET'S ROCK!"

[protheuz]

Lt. Alon straps himself on the metallic exoskeleton, full of wires and open mechanisms inside the large chest of the large blue GEAR. This mechanism was older than and not as advanced as VR or full emersion Systems. But he felt those lacked weight and didn’t relate movements as this older one.

Here each and every step was felt – not as if you were taking it, but as a machine aided and limited one. He could feel those limits – the breadth of movement, the response of the Fiber-muscles and myomers. The pulsing of the G energy among the plates, almost as a beating heart. He felt the heart, the soul of the machine.

As ancient samurai considered their katanas a part of their soul, a representation of their ideals, so did Alon. But is weapon was this gear. A rugged one.

He always instructed the technicians to not tightly secure the armored plates inside the cockpit - he could tell by the movement and reverberation of each plate the strength of the hit, way before the data arrived to his monitors.

Quetzalcoatl takes one step - another - another.

With a push of a switch the large GEAR transforms into an alternate form - jet-like with the large sword as the front. A bird of prey. Inside the cockpit changes and Alon moves from a upward position to a lie-down position, almost as if driving a motorcycle.

The large engine back ignites, power accumulating.

“Quetzalcoatl ready.”

“Permission granted.”

“Quetzalcoatl, to the stars.” Says Alon, as the large armored GEAR leaves the ship.

[protheuz]

- The situation as it stands -

http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c142/Protheuz/B1_zpsms9qej9m.jpg (http://s26.photobucket.com/user/Protheuz/media/B1_zpsms9qej9m.jpg.html)

[protheuz]

Lt. Alon commands “Firegroup one advance towards the station. Firegroup two protect the ship.”

Everyone state an action and please make an awareness test. The ones that have danger sense don't forget to use it

[Merilan]

The white-winged cocoon hurtles forward through space, the fragile infrastructure of the wing seams starting to show their absolute age and wear from the rattling noise Shigure is trying her best to ignore. Five years... that's enough to end a lot of military careers. But... I'm no soldier, now am I...

"Roger. Proceeding on predestined flight path," Shigure answers.


[roll0] - Awareness
Actions - Boost (+1 movement)
Lemniscatus Presage Assistant - Sacrificing Maneuver action to increase movement by 1.
Move - 3 spaces north.

[DoctorFaust]

"Roger, LT." Jacob banks his GEAR off to one side and heads toward the station, all the while keeping his head on a swivel for any potential threats.

Awareness (Danger Instinct):[roll0]+7=17

Boost:+1 Movement
Moving 2 squares to the left.

[Sith_Happens]

"Jack here, sticking close to the ship I guess since that's my job right now. I do think we should spread out a bit in case something explodes on us though."

With that Jack drifts slightly away from the transport, scanning for threats and holding a defensive stance.

Awareness (Danger Sense): [roll0]+4=13

Moving one zone north and Maneuvering: [roll1] = +2 armor, +2 disadvantages

[Amaril]

"Copy," Seth acknowledges. "Timber Wolf, moving out." He opens up the throttle slowly and carefully, the head-spinningly complex machinery of the Gear responding with ease thanks to the mediation of the PsAICon. All his attention is on his sensor readouts, waiting for any sign of danger.

Moving one zone north, Boosting one zone west.

Awareness check, one advantage from Danger Instinct: 2d10b1+6

[Ascension]

Though she keeps them docked to her Penderecki for the moment, Quinn grins as she brings her Cameramen online, and her secondary screens light up with alternate viewing angles.

"Remember, smiles, everyone," she enthuses over the comms, "You are on camera."

She keeps a close eye on all her screens as her Gear continues its lazy drift away from the ship. She promised Shigure she would, and it's good practice anyway. You never know just when you might encounter... surprises.

Moving to 31, W. Delaying further action. Alternatively, if Delay necessarily delays movement as well, I'll Delay, but will use the delayed action to move to 31, W at the end of the round if nothing else happens first.

Awareness: [roll0]

[Sith_Happens]

"Uh, I don't think Gears can smile, Quinn. At least not any of ours."

[Merilan]

"Uh, I don't think Gears can smile, Quinn. At least not any of ours."

Somewhere inside the Liberis' head compartment, entirely coincidentally, two jaw hydraulics attempt to flex upwards but find that they lack a mouth.

[Ascension]

"It's not the action, darling, it's the emotion. Confidence! It projects!"

[Sith_Happens]

"It's not the action, darling, it's the emotion. Confidence! It projects!"

"Ooooooh, I get it. That's easy, you should have said that in the first place."

[protheuz]

Alon goes with the group not using all his speed so he could stay cohesive.

http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c142/Protheuz/B2_zpspeumlun8.png (http://s26.photobucket.com/user/Protheuz/media/B2_zpspeumlun8.png.html)

To Jacob and Seth

You notice something strange. Somehow, as impossible as it might seem, space, the void seems to ripple as small waves. As if it was a clear reflection. A lake where a rock was drop.

With effort you notice three zones . Three ripples in reality.

It might be your imagination as your sensors don't detect anything special.

[Amaril]

Seth would dismiss the strange rippling in his field of view for a sensor glitch, or else just his eyes playing tricks on him, but when he blinks and it doesn't go away, he frowns in confusion. "Uh, guys?" he broadcasts, tapping a quick control sequence to send a feed of his sensor data to his teammates' cockpits. "Are you seeing this?" He continues on his flight path, despite being hesitant to head towards the effects, if they're even there.

Moving one zone north, Boosting one zone west.

[DoctorFaust]

"I see it too, Seth." Jacob banks his fighter off to the side and flips it on it's wing to get a better view of the distortion. "LT, can you ask the Talisians if they've had any anomalies show up on their scanners over the last few weeks? I'm altering my flight path to stay out of the disturbances, and unless someone tells me otherwise, I am going to be shooting anything that comes out of those."

Move left 1, boosting up 1.

[Sith_Happens]

"See what? I got nothin'."

I'll take my actions after the above has been answered.

[Merilan]

Shigure listens to the chatter intently, squinting her eyes. Anomalies? She didn't see anything, and the Search-Eye isn't returning anything either. She closes her eyes for a moment, the rude rattle of the flightsticks barely distracting her. "Lemne... do you feel anything...?"

There's a single pulse that courses through the cockpit, a little whistling and ebbing noise.

Shigure knows enough that two isn't a coincidence. The cocoon continues to shuttle onward, and Shigure speaks up, "Jacob, Seth, transfer an overlay to the rest of us and mark a rough perimeter where you see these anomalies -- for prudence's sake, we'll avoid them in our flight path. I have nothing on my radars, but they're unreliable. Quinn, do your sensors pick anything up?"

Move 1 north, Boost 1 north, Assistant-move 1 west.

[Amaril]

"Copy," Seth acknowledges. "Adding markers to my feed and adjusting course." He does so, squinting at his viewscreens to make out where the distortion ends and tapping more keys to mark the edges on the images he's sending to the others.

[Ascension]

Quinn squints at her screens, not seeing anything... but maybe that just means she needs to take a closer look.

"Ah... yes, there. Thank you, Seth," she acknowledges, as he relays the coordinates of the... anomalies. This is hardly the sort of strangeness she and Shigure had been expecting... but that just means it's all the more important to give it a proper examination, isn't it?

"I'm sending in my cameramen," she says as she gives them the signal to depart: half thought, half touchscreen gesture. Her backpack scissors completely open, disgorging drones with the graceless efficiency of a quick zero-g launch. As soon as she sees/feels that she has a complete set of five deployed and ready, she highlights the nearest anomaly marker and issues their marching orders: "Mr. DeMille... she's ready for her close up."

With their grav-lifts and thrusters firing in unison, Quinn's camera drones soar forward at a speed she'd be hard-pressed to match in her heavier Gear.

...sorry I got the 31 and 32 columns mixed up on my last action, protheuz. Thankfully, where you put Quinn is where I actually wanted to be.

I'm deploying the cameramen one square north (32, V) and giving my action to them. They'll move a square north and boost another square, meaning they should end up at... (32, T). Quinn's Penderecki itself remains stationary.

[Sith_Happens]

Jack overlays the incoming feed over his own visuals; even with his Gear's computer adjusting it to the change in viewing angle first, the effect would be slightly disorienting if he hadn't already done it before countless times. Staring at the outlined areas he can just barely see the stars wobbling.

"...Oh, okay, yeah, I see it now. That is... weird. And probably the part where I get right in front of the ship."

Moving one zone left and maneuvering again: [roll0]

[protheuz]

"We don't have comms with the station anymore." Says Lt. Alon.

As you approach the zones the ripples grow bigger. Now you all can see them. Not in the sensors but feel it.

The best way to put it was as if reality was shifting, rippling.

http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c142/Protheuz/B3_zpsxe8vw7vi.png (http://s26.photobucket.com/user/Protheuz/media/B3_zpsxe8vw7vi.png.html)

"Proceed with care. Ready weapons just in case!"

[Merilan]

Shigure feels a clenching sensation that's starting to ebb at her chest and her head. She dithers for a moment, but redoubles her grip on what is it? What is this sensation... this pressure?

"I'd like Transport on standby until we can confirm threats," Shigure comms over the shared link. She does agree with Lt. Alon, though -- and inputs a sequence towards the keyboard, her brown eyes reflecting the screens as they flash with a brief splash-screen for the weapons systems she's accessing.


= [ P I N I O N System ] =
PsAICom-Integrated Network Interfacing Offensive Node
v-OS version 0.21 build 33573 hotfix 29 ver. S. Shigure... initiating.
Units 01 / 02 [ERROR] / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 [ERROR]

The cocoon twists in its flight path, microverniers doing minute corrections of its movement in zero-G. Motes of light seep around its furled wingspan for a moment; true to its birdlike stature, the remiges on the extremities of its wings emerge in formation, two on each side. They lock into place, and split backwards along a near-invisible seam along its length, revealing small plasma barrels.

"Pinions are deployed, scanning for external threats," Shigure confirms. She can barely feel it at the moment, but the glass orb in front of her is starting to ebb with images and sensations; the whistle of Lemne harps upon her subconscious, as the feeling brought upon by the anomalies intensify.


Beginning of Turn: Deploy Pinion 1 south
Action: Move 1 north, Boost 1 north
Assistant: Maneuver action - [roll0] - +1 armor, +1 disadvantage to being attacked until the start of Shigure's next turn

[Amaril]

Seth eyes the anomalies with growing apprehension, his mouth suddenly dry. Bringing his charge cannon up into a firing position, just in case, he continues on his revised flight path, aiming for the widest gap he can find between the distorted areas.

Moving one zone north, Boosting one zone north.

[DoctorFaust]

Jacob turns his GEAR to face sideways, firing his lateral maneuvering jets to keep increasing his delta-v. "Copy, LT. I have one of the...things in my sights, and I intend to keep it there."

Move 1 up, Boost 1 up.

[Ascension]

As the anomalies come into clear view on all Quinn's screens, she squints at them suspiciously. There's something... unwholesome about them. Gygravagnite has some very strange properties and applications, but she knows of no human technology, nor any natural stellar phenomena, capable of producing effects like this. It feels alien. Maybe Outsider, Cryptid... something other. Nothing good. Nothing friendly.

She plays the targeting reticule of her railgun over the nearest zone, dialing the fire selector to wide-area saturation.

"Lt. Veers," she says, keying her comms. An edge of tension reads clearly in her voice, but her words are clipped and formal. "Requesting permission to gauge the anomalies' reaction to gunfire."

[protheuz]

"That's a negative Quinn. No telling what fire could do."

He turns the comm to the ship and asks "Control what is our scientists saying about this one?"

"Gravity anomaly. Somekind of space inversion. Sensors scanning it now."

[Sith_Happens]

"...If we can't shoot them then should we go around? We are in space you know."

Jack begins to move at a skew from his previous path to demonstrate.

Move 1 left, boost 1 out of the page. Don't worry protheuz, I'm sure you can come up with a good way to mark that.:smalltongue:

...Of course depending on how much we're prioritizing "staying away from these things" versus "getting to the station fast" it might actually be better to go along the right or bottom edge of the map rather than along a normal arc to it, but I'll let one of the smarter pilots be the one to suggest that.:smallwink:

[Amaril]

"What the hell is going on, then?" Seth wonders aloud, more to himself than anyone else. "These kinds of things don't just show up, they've gotta be caused by something...hey," he continues, a cold hand suddenly gripping his heart as he continues on his course for the biggest gap between the anomalies, "if there was Outsider activity near here, we'd know, right?"

Moving one zone west, Boosting one zone west.

[Merilan]

Shigure's hands feel a little pale, a little stiff against the flightsticks. "Lemne... guide me through this..." she finds herself whispering, feeling the subtle ebb and whispers around her mind in return as the cocoon continues to float through space.

Move 1 west, Boost 1 west, Assistant 1 west.

[Ascension]

Right. Okay. Don't shoot them. Because maybe they'll turn out to be friendly gravito-spatial anomalies. Fine.

Or maybe shooting them would make them worse, she chides herself, So listen to the Lieutenant.

Of course, it's not like they aren't already getting worse... but she realizes she's letting her thoughts get stuck in a loop of anxiety. There's got to be something she can do that's more productive than that. Something. Something like...

"Transport Alpha 2, I'm sending you my drone camera feeds, starting now. You might want to keep an eye on them."

Then she gives the cameramen the go signal. They're unmanned, they're recording, and she does have spares... she sends them straight into the edge of the anomaly.

"Let's see what we can see, why don't we..." she murmurs to herself.

Again giving my action to the cameramen. Moving them one square north, boosting a second square north. Destination should be (32, r), at the corner of the rightmost anomaly.

[Sith_Happens]

Wait, are we already taking our next turns? Looks like. I can work with that.:smalltongue:

Move left, Boost left.
"All right, officially in firing position, anything that shows up out of the left or right bubbles gets a face full of missiles."

[Ascension]

Quinn watches intently as her cameramen cover the last couple hundred meters to the anomaly, waiting with bated breath to see what she might glimpse within the rippling space...

...and then her field of view is filled with static, a quintet of red Xs, and the repeated warning: CONTACT LOST.

She swears, jetting sideways as she orders a set of replacement drones into action. She doesn't often have to replace a full set all at once, but she is prepared for such extraordinary circumstances.

"Do not enter those anomalies," she warns over the general comms, "We've got no contact with the other side."

Moving one square west (to 31, w), using Reload to redeploy my remote weapons to the square immediately north of that location (31, v).

[Merilan]

Shigure listens intently to Quinn's report -- some part of her, perhaps, is not surprised about the outcome... and she rather hates that she isn't more surprised. Anomalies in space are never a good idea. The Gear Armed Forces? Cryptids? Outsiders? Or something even worse -- something alien? Anything was possible at this point, now that Quinn's confirmed that it wasn't just a harmless, ineffectual distortion over space.

"Assume that hostiles will emerge from all three anomalies -- do not let them flank you," Shigure advises, while realising she really should follow her own advice where the Liberis is currently headed. The targeting computer begins to thrum with its patchwork operating systems, and the young engineer is already streamlining subroutine power for the Buster Rifle.

[protheuz]

From the center of each warp a similar figure rises. The "female" looking huge aliens.

http://i26.photobucket.com/albums/c142/Protheuz/alien_concept_by_kineticflow_zps6lfi9ckk.jpg (http://s26.photobucket.com/user/Protheuz/media/alien_concept_by_kineticflow_zps6lfi9ckk.jpg.html)

As they rise reality seems to freeze. Time seems to freeze.
First slowing down. It was just a hunch. A feeling. Something not right in the back of your head.

"----WE NEED THE KEY---" you hear in your heads.

And then time starts going backwards. You can see Your depart from the freighter. You feel it again. You live it again. It goes and goes and goes. Each moment you ever experienced.

And then it goes in the other direction. Similar, but not quite the same, you are sure of. You watch your life unfold as a god seeing a favourite show.

- You cry. As you breath the first breath. You cry.


Individual background. I'll try to do several "ages".
Now you are a newborn. you can describe your family or place or whatever.
Inspector Valin you can participate in this also

[Inspector Valin]

Great Yarmouth: Havelock Road Medical Clinic
October 10th: 2082

Blurry. It's all blurry. Eyes blink slowly, trying to take in the light. Cold. Loud. Everything is loud. Breath in once and cry, as loud as can be, joining in the chorus. There's more space now. A lot more, going in two directions. Something's humming up above. The walls are white. The floor is white. That door is green, dark green. Everything else looked white, or grey, or dark. There was another sound. Tap, tap, tap, a white man is waving at someone, and going really fast past them. His tail is blowing around behind him. This is all so loud still! Everyone's yelling, calling, sobbing. There's wind from somewhere, and movement, and everything's still really, really cold, in and out. Someone is holding, and moving, pulling backwards...

Another blink. Light makes sense now. Up above are smiling faces. A man with dark brown hair that went down to his shoulders, and the biggest grin in the world. He looked like he wanted to just yell, laugh, sing or something else, he was so happy. Noticing her gaze, the man got up, moving a little closer to meet her gaze. He was wearing a grey uniform, simple, with just a few traces of gold on his shoulders. The man's mouth moved, and he made a sound she didn't really understand, but sounded kinda familiar. His eyes were twinkling in the harsh light from up above, a brilliant gentle blue. Next to him, holding the newborn in two gentle arms, was a woman with a smile far gentler, but no less warm. Her hair was lighter than the man's, and looked frazzles, worn. Still, there was life in her eyes, and a forest green that you could just stare into. There was black under her eyes, and little bits of red, but she still just as happy, and was making more noises at a third person, before turning back to the little one.

Mum. Dad. God, they look so happy...

[Merilan]

Shigure's eyes shoot wide open as she whispers, "That's..."

At that point, the white-winged Gear's emerald eyes flash. The shrill whisper of the central sphere within her cockpit becomes louder, and the glass orb begins to shine with an indefatigable, unknowable, alien light. The ex-UEF ace's eyes are glazed over to both the vision of the figure and towards the wellspring of the unfathomable. "Lemne... I--"

She clutches at her chest, throwing her head forward. Her mouth hangs open, dry. "Ahg-- aAA--"

An Unbeknownst Amount of Time Ago
Within a Galaxy at the Ends of the World
Where the Laws of Physics Mean Nothing

But then the pain disappears. Shigure finds her vision not within the seat of her cockpit, but alight upon an infinite, ever-repeating plane of some mischevious measure of space and time. A mass of galaxies and planets and moons congeal into a redshifted flow in her distance. Her mind plays at her soul. Her soul reaches out in an intangible capacity. There are fae-like emanations floating about her. She reaches for one, but it disappears as soon as she does so.

I ͝c͟àn͡ śe̶ȩ Ti͡me͘ i͏ts͠e̕l̀f҉!
T̶h͞e P͜l͢easa͢nt͝ Ga͟r̵l̕and o̢f ͘F̴l͏o͝w͏e͢rs͏...͡
͢The ̷Tęars͝ o͝f t̶h͠e M̷oi͟st̷,̶ ̴Dar̵k̕ ͟E͘arth.͟..
̕O̴h,́ ͡t̷h͘e E͜asef́ul ̷Fa͡ll̷i͡ńg ҉o̶f ͞B͡on͜e ҉u͝pon Dry̢f̧lo̧w̷er̢s͠!҉

What is this... what is... Lemne...?

An unfathomably large cliff of chalky coral substance is seated upon a backdrop of refined, woven Dreams. The trees that surround the concave landscape are tall, towering, spiraling measures, made of a mixture of star metal and the beating pulses of a planet's heart. An immense waterfall of great, red substance flows from its deepest crevasse. Upon that infinitely banding red stream floats the ship of Dreams, sat upon a River neither of Water nor of Flame.

Oh̀, i͠t͢ fl͜o͡ws ̴th̡r̴o͏ugh ̕t͞he͞ ͜sk̵ie̸s̸,͞ a ͢ri͘v͡e͟r̵ o͟f ͡S̕įle͞ņc͢e ̸it͜s͠elf.
It ͝hear͠s̨ ͞ţh͘e ͜Noi͡s̨es ͟of M̕o̵ving͢,̡ t̨h̴ę ̢Echóes of Vo̸i͝c͢e̡ an͠d S͜ơng!
F̛or ͜t̸h̨ere,̴ a͟l̵l͘ ҉Echoes ̸d́i̵ę.͘

The poets' fancies made the ship's mast tall. Her sails are that of angel downs, wrought of the people's hopes.
Upon her deck were rowers with dreamlike oars, and the rowers of the people of Fancies,
and princes of Oldstories, people who had Died, and people who had Never Been.

The wings hold the ship aloft, above the consummate bed of silence. Forever, upon a silent wind, the ship floats up to hold the hopes of people with no home in the Worlds.

She can see it, nestled within Time itself... the looping, incommensurate ribbons of infinity she calls Lemniscatus.

This is... your birth... your life... your existence...
Even here, where I should not be able to comprehend anything, I...
Feel a great hope, much like our own...
Lemne... I...

Outer Space, Lagrange 1
Space Colony "Asimov I", May 7th 2079

The first space colony in history had a reputation to hold up to. It was the cradle and birthplace of a new generation of humans, free of the well of Earth's gravity, after all. Here, within St. Mary's Hospital, a generation of spacenoids would grow to see where their forefathers once lived, and where they'll lay their footprints forth to the stars beyond. Everyone was optimistic. Births were highly celebrated, most spacenoids being particularly rich and affluent folk. The Shiratsuyu family were no different, with a lofty inheritance and estate from the days of Japan's military-industrial complex that had remained through the scars of war. They were military leaders, researchers, diplomats, officers.

A Japanese man in a Solar Space Alliance military uniform looks down towards the incubator next to her wife, hair tied into a soft bun and dressed in a kimono. Everything about the birth had been tasked up to ceremony. They wanted nothing less than to feel the nostalgic trappings of home for the reception of their new daughter.

"Shigure," the woman speaks softly. "A soft shower in late autumn."
"Shiratsuyu... Shigure," the man seems overjoyed by the suggestion, nodding. "Welcome to the world, Shigure..."

The Shigure beyond Time gazes towards the cradle, where her father had held her with such pride. Nothing remains of that scene now. Not her father, not her mother, not any single trace of that hospital, nor Asimov I itself. Not after the Battle of 23 Hours.

Nothing...

[Ascension]

Aliens!

Are those... Cryptids? I've never actually seen a-

Before Quinn has a chance to vocalize her thoughts, something... happens.

-ɐ uəəs ʎๅๅɐnʇɔɐ ɹəʌəu əʌˌI ¿spıʇdʎɹƆ ···əsoɥʇ əɹ∀

¡suəıๅ∀

ˌˌ·əpıs ɹəɥʇo əɥʇ ɥʇıʍ ʇɔɐʇuoɔ ou ʇoɓ əʌˌəMˌˌ ʻsɯɯoɔ ๅɐɹəuəɓ əɥʇ ɹəʌo suɹɐʍ əɥs ˌˌʻsəıๅɐɯouɐ əsoɥʇ ɹəʇuə ʇou opˌˌ

···

···

...

...

...

Cedars-Sinai Medical Center, Los Angeles, California, UEF
June 10th, 2072

This is his second wife's first child, so he's there, even though it's interrupting filming. Even though the light outside is perfect. Even though this wouldn't be the first false alarm. Even though he's working on a multi-million dollar production, and it's running over budget, and each minute bleeds away more money. Even though he's been waiting for hours.

Grant Shapiro checks his watch for the fourth time in the last 15 minutes.

He's staring at the itinerary he'd had scheduled for the day before Jeanne started having contractions, trying to figure out if he can accomplish any more of that work from the waiting room, wondering how offended Jeanne would be if he was on the phone when she delivered, when finally gets the news. Entering the room, approaching his wife's bedside, he can see that the nurses have already cleaned the baby up a little, swaddled her in a blanket. Her wailing softens slightly as he draws near, and it's very nearly picturesque. If it weren't for the color of Jeanne's face, and the look of pain, and the size of the infant, it could almost be a scene from a movie.

Only in Hollywood...

"Quinn," he greets her as he takes her into his arms, a slow smile finding its way onto his face. "My little darling."

[DoctorFaust]

"Contact!" Jacob manages to haul the stick of the Hikoboshi sideways before he succumbs to the aliens , sending it screaming away from the alien he had just been flying towards.

Command, I repe͕͍̪̦̠̫͌̅ͨ̈́a̯̦̙͈̰̽̀t̬̰͍̽̿̏̆̐̄,͍̳͍ͣ̑ͣ͆͋͗ w̙̲̭̓́͂̈̀͑̀̄ẹ̦̤͎̩̞̰̳͇̤̱̏̊͗͌ͦ̚ h̫͍̰a͇̟̱̟̼͖ͅvͨ̋̋̆͂e̬͚̞̟̟͎ͦ͐ͧ


c̋ͤ̚ő͈̰̣ͣ͆̆ͣn͕ͪ̇̚t̳̥̊͌̉a̗̠̼̖͙̐ͪ̋͑̒c̹͍͕͈̖̟͍t͖̎́... .




April 27, 2075. The Queen's Medical Centre, Honolulu, Hawaii, United Pacific.

First came the redness. Then the darkness, and the pain. And later, light, blindingly intense. Slowly, as his eyes adjust to the light, the hazy dark shape in the corner of his vision resolves itself into a deeply tanned, broadly built, and almost radiantly happy man hovering over the edge of his bed.

...s your eyes. The man says, looking back over his shoulder.

"But he definitely has your looks," comes the playful reply from a voice that Jacob cannot see the source of.

Mom...Dad...

The broadly built man, Isaac Matua, leans back over the crib, smiling at the newly born baby. "Jacob Matua, my little angel. God, I never want to let you out of my sight..."

[Amaril]

"F***!" Seth cries as the enormous figure suddenly rears up almost directly in his path, slamming on the thruster controls--he avoids a crash by inches, the force of the sudden change in direction throwing him against the side of his cockpit. "Hostiles spotted!" he barks, reeling from the shock, his machine's hand going for the hilt of its sword, his squadmates' voices a meaningless jumble of noise. "Multiple X-ray contacts, I nhrrrrrrrnnnnnnnnggggggggg..." The words die away as his jaw seizes up along with the rest of his body, but he's already elsewhere, a̟̹n͔͉̫͎̻͇d͎̹ ̟̲͚̜͠t̹̜͙h̡̻̯̣̬̯e̴̬͙̺̖̻ s͙̙͕̼t͜a̫͙ṛ̥͙̬̞͍s̘͓ ̴͔͚̥̣̺b͜o̧̹̣̬̱̠ͅr̭̠̻͎͈͔e͖̕ ̰͈i͏̺̬n̘t͇͝o̮ ̻̹h̟̺̥͍i̧͕̱̠s̸̫̹̻̺͖ ̦̰̹s͝k̀ṵ͔̬̤̖͉͉l͚̠̳̳̻̩l̺͇̭̰̦͟ ̶̫̠l̢i͔͞k̞̩̦͖͇͍̩̀e̪͕̘͜ ̗͓̘̱̳̪tor͇̮̪̼̣͞tu͇͚͇͉̙͢ͅͅŗ̪͉̺̦̣̫̻e̞̟̥̣̙̥̻ ̴̦̯͍͎͓p̹̣̯͝ͅr̤̲̞̬̤͞ͅo̸̲̰̬͉̰b̹̣e̠̯͔s̲͙͕̀,͏̪͔̘̼͉ ̲ t̷̮͞ẖ̫̞̬ͅo͏̘̝̫̫͎̭́͡s̶̘̫̰̗̗̫̺̳e̷̙ͅ ͇̰w̢̛̠̫͇͕̫ì̞̙͙͇̳̕t̼̻̖͠h̸̼̥̜͙͎̺̥͕͖̀ ̷̟̳͎̘̗f͏̲̣̰̳͚̬a͏͟҉͈̦̻i̛̥͎̙̦̠̥ͅͅt͕̳͚͇̯͕̀ͅh̵͕̼͖̺ ̺̪͇͖ ̤̥̮͙̙̳͝w̙͢͡i̙̮̝̳̰͡ḻ͉̻͖̗̞́l̞͔̣̥͈̬͢ ͔̬́b̡̛̲̬͚̻͉̰̬̭e̢̞̫̣̣̼͎̹̰̥ ͏͕͉̖͉͖s̴̪̤̙̜̕p̶҉̙̜̙͇̕à̡̨̯͈̣̙̼̗̭r̠̺̭͚̳̫e̦͕̗̤͙͡d͢͞͝ ̙,̢͕͚̖̝m̶̧̛͈̤͎͍͖̻̻̺̼̜̫͖͖̪͙a̶̷̘̻͕̮͈͙͔̬m̵̧̮͉̪̥̰̖͙̲̪̜ ̱̖̰̘̗ͅa͓̘͈̗̞̼̞̫̣͠ ̶̛̻͕͖̹̭w̴̴̡͈̦̖͓̣̬͇̻̠̲̲͇͙̯̱̙̳͡ͅh̡̭͈͚͇ą̵̗͎̟̩͡͞ͅt̷͇͢ ͉̻̠'̷̮̯̠̭͚̰͚̞͜ͅs̨̧̨̢̙͉̣̻͈͖̳̹̠̤̹͔̫ ̸̷̭̮̰̘͖̯̰̥̣̪͓̲̰w̡̨̦̱̳̠͕̘̹̤̩̣͕̖̦͕̤̠͠ͅͅr̵̴̫̰̗̮ͅo͢͏͘͟ ̨̰͈̝̣͙̫̳͍̱n̰͔̜̘̤͔͇̻͈̤̗̠̗̖̳͢g҉̩̼̙͉͔̩͚̦̭̀͡ ͕͕͔̥̬̲̬̥̹̥̖̤̱̟̜̀́͠͠ͅͅd̢̨̢̩͔̘͚̩̯̳̝́́ͅo͏̧̜̟̻̱̮͓̤n̵̸͢ ̮̪̙͈̲̬̻̹̫'̸̧̩̜̥̙͈̞̤̱̩̘̺́́͝t̷̷̡̧̯̙͚̝̝̪̣̬͞ͅ ̢̛̮̻̱̦̜͔̟͕̯̖͉̜̼͙̻̥̭̱̩̕g҉̧̥̥̹̮̕͡o̡̧̝͓̮̭̠͕̝͕̙̹̝̮̣͜͝͠ ̹ ̢̡͍̮͇̘̘̳̪͎̬̤̖̼͖̫̀͢p̷̧̗͇̟̳̞͢͝l̷̛̘̮̹̻̰̞͍̬̜̤̯͘͟͞e̴̡͜͠ ͔̺̻̗͙̼̤̼̜͈̖̗̤͔͔̳̗́ą̶̕͏͙̫͇͓̩̺̝͔s̮̠̭̞̠̦͖̹͟͠͞e͏҉̠̦̭͓ ̹̜̪͍̥ ҉̬̩̰̞̟͚͝d̡̞̺͇̙̯̩́̕ͅǫ̙̣͔̹̩̳͍̤̗̲̬́͜n҉҉̰̖̣̬̙̩̩̫̭̝̺͓̻ ͚͔̬'̢̗̪̺͚͖͓̞̘̹͙̳͕͘͠t̷̛̜̜̺̰̲̬̣̘͜͞͞ ҉̟̯̥̪͚͎͍̟̀g̸̡̧͖̠͚͇̥̻̩͞͠o̗̻͎͓͔̥̮̤͟͞




MedStar Washington Hospital Center, Washington D.C., UEF
06:32, 14 April, 2079

The air hurts his insides, and he cries, pushing it out. It doesn't do anything for the pain his outsides feel. He sees now, a new experience he doesn't yet have the language or brain power to appreciate, but the light hurts his eyes, so he closes them. Sound batters his ears, signifying nothing. Everything feels as though it was just crushed by an incredible weight.

Hands bear him, bringing cloths that scrub at his skin and leave it raw. He has the sense of being swept along, the world rushing by in a flood of air and light that changes without becoming less painful. It lasts forever, and then it's over, one last set of hands accepting his weight and pulling him close, into an embrace of warmth and softness that almost puts him back at ease. He stops crying for a second, and finds that he can bear to breathe now, so he stays quiet.

The embrace breathes, slow and steady and, he realizes, familiar. "See?" a voice comes from somewhere above him, the sound's significance still unknown. "See, look, he's fine! I told you you..." A face swims into view from the direction of the voice, flushed and drenched in sweat but radiating inexpressible joy. "Hey there, sweetie! Aw, look at you...isn't he gorgeous?"

"Oh God..." A different voice, lower and heavy with strain. Another pair of hands draw near, trembling. "C-can I...?"

Wordlessly, the first set of hands transfer him to the second; he's vaguely aware that he's wrapped tightly in cloth, making up for the momentary loss of warmth and snugness until both return in full a moment later. Another face looks down, caught between wonder and terror. Its mouth moves, as though trying to make more sounds, but nothing comes out--then tears begin to fall from its eyes, and he's lifted up towards it as it lowers down and presses against the cloth covering his body.

"Hey," says the first voice, concerned. "Hey, come on, what is it?"

The second voice's reply is preceded by more sobs, and muffled against the cloth. "I can't...it's...I don't want to ruin this...God, Liza, don't let me f*** this up..."

"Joseph," Liza says firmly, "look at me." The sobs choke and stop, and Joseph lifts his head up to look his wife in the eye; she sits up in the hospital bed, leaning over to lay a hand on his shoulder. "You are not going to f*** this up. You're gonna be the best dad in the entire Goddamn world. Okay? If I didn't know that, I wouldn't have done this."

A silence passes between them, and then Joseph nods, the tension deflating out of him as he carefully passes the bundle that is their son back to his wife. He shifts his chair closer to the bed as she takes him back, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. "So we still like Seth?"

"Yeah," Aliza nods.

Another silence.

"Okay."

[Merilan]

Outer Space, Lagrange 1
Space Colony "Asimov I", May 7th 2085

Asimov I was a space colony of terrifically futuristic sights, with its expansive, convex horizon and pearl-white and gunmetal-gray polished surfaces. But even within these spaces, some of its residents long for nostalgic sights of Earth; being quite affluent and rich, some of these spaces were converted into what the residents call Culturescapes. The Shiratsuyu family enjoyed the Japanese Culturescape that was quite close to their multi-storeyed, manor-like residence - a beautiful and prominent promenade of sakura cherry blossoms and pagodas, made specifically to evoke the feeling of traditional Japanse culture.

It also made for a particularly lucrative tourist trap, for the new generation of colonists who'd never seen such a thing.

Today was Shiratsuyu Shigure's eighth birthday; she'd grown up to be such a precocious child, possessed of such intellectual and cultural curiousity that her parents have become so proud of her, though at the same time a particularly physically fragile child. She tired easily, and was in not much shape to do much physical activity.

On her way home from school, somebody special was waiting for her.

The girl standing underneath their favourite sacred cherry blossom tree was three years her senior; she has darker hair cut in a shoulder-length bob and has a particularly neat-trimmed outfit that's made to resemble the Solar Space Alliance military. Even from a young age, this girl was just as precocious as Shigure, and both were known children of military officers with promising future careers.

Shigure paused, her breath taken by how the artificial sun cast a photogenic bloom over the shade of the tree. A soft autumn's breeze, much like her namesake, passes by and ruffles their hair playfully in the wind. The girl turns towards Shigure, having spotted her, smiling luxuriously and radiantly.

"Shigure," said the girl. "You're a bit late." Even at such a young age, she already sounded so imperious.

Shigure tugged on the straps of her school backpack and moved closer, tilting her head. "Yamashiro... did classes end for you already? You usually have cram school..."

Yamashiro -- Fusou Yamashiro -- chuckled in turn and folded her arms. "Not anymore, Shigure. I don't know if your dad told you, but mine told me I'm going to military school starting next week. Apparently my grades and acceptance test impressed them so much, they're willing to start me early." She tried her best to not sound terribly boastful, but it's quite clear that the precocious child had much of it in her voice, however subtle.

Shigure's eyes widened, and she cupped her mouth. "E-eh? Truly? Wow, Yamashiro... I knew you could do it... are you going to become an Avatar...?"

The dark-haired girl shrugged in turn, smiling richly -- and perhaps, a bit sorrowfully. "I don't know yet. Tactics, strategy, command, whatever they've got in mind I know I can ace," she replied, just a bit distracted. She fidgeted, looking down towards the corridor of sakura petals. There was such peace and quietness in them that they couldn't hear anything else but the sound of each other's voices.

"That's amazing, Yamashiro..." Shigure chimed in, clapping her hands gently.

"But..." Yamashiro paused. She knew she couldn't keep the bad news away forever, so she pressed onward and held Shigure's shoulders and murmured, "I'll be moving away from this colony because of that."

The young girl's eyes widened, and she stammered -- "W--what? Yamashiro, when are you--"

"The end of this week," Yamashiro cut Shigure off and gave the answer she wanted. "I know, it's really sudden... but I've really wanted this my whole life, Shigure... I know it'll be hard to move from here, we've known each other since -- since you were really small..." She's sounding a little choked up.

Shigure's own eyes were tearful, as she clung onto the strap of her backpack tighter. "Wahh, Yamashiro, I don't want you to move away... you're my closest friend..."

Yamashiro pat Shigure on the head, running her hand over her brown, braided hair. "It isn't easy for me either... but... how about this?" She paused, and then bashfully drew something from her jacket pocket.

Shimmering gently in the autumn-esque sun, Shigure saw a pretty pendant on a small chain, designed with the effect of burnished gold. "It's-- normal for friends to do this, you know," Yamashiro stammered on her words, scratching her cheek. "So keep it safe until we meet again..."

Overwhelmed, Shigure drew as big a gasp as she could muster and took the pendant to her hands. "Yamashiro... then, should we promise? Under this sakura tree..."

"... yeah. We'll meet each other again. And when we do, I'll..."

Shigure's heart thumped as she wondered what her best friend would say. Yamashiro cleared her throat, cheeks a bit red as she turned away. "I'll-- be an amazing GEAR Avatar, and an SSA military commander besides that!" she said a little huffily, hiding away what she was going to say originally.

A giggle escaped Shigure, and she tilt her head warmly to say, "Then, I'll wait for you..."
Yamashiro nods in return, answering, "No matter what..."

Their hands met, the pendant clutched between their palms. The sakura petals fell around them, touching their hand and shoulders. The wind was warm, and full of affection.

"...as long as it takes..."
"I promise... we'll be together again."

[Ascension]

2086
After The Battle of 23 Hours
Los Angeles, California, UEF

It's so distant.

All the colonies, all the satellites, all the spaceborne works of man, they're little more than points of light, when viewed from Earth. Even as they're exploding. Even as they're dying. And all the debris that's left behind, it's nothing more than shooting stars. A sky full of shooting stars.

There's panic on the news, of course, but that's distant, too. You can shut it off, shut it out. Banish it as easily as changing the channel. What does it matter?

The fear that escapes out into the air, into conversations, into crowds, into people, it's not fear of what the Outsiders have done. The SSA was the enemy. They wouldn't have mourned if the Outsiders had done it to us, why would we mourn for them? No, it's fear of what they could do. If they came here. If they hurt us.

But they won't, will they? We did the smart thing. We talked to them. We made concessions, what concessions were necessary.

Some people move away. More move in. The gossip mags find a few new things to call scandalous. Life goes on.

There's a brief rash of benefit shows carried out with varying degrees of sincerity and simulation. Quinn appears at one in-character as the best friend of the star of a tween sitcom, and at another as herself. Her performance is the same in both appearances.

She asks her father not to cast her in any more of his movies, saying that she wants to make it on her own. He lets her fail one audition, then quietly pulls a string to land her the next. It takes her two more years to notice.

No major studio films outside the Sanctuaries, that first year. The news media soon follows suit.

[Merilan]

Outer Space, Lagrange 1
Space Colony "White Ark", July 6th 2095
White Ark Institute of Technology
9:36 AM

"Shigure, the professor's asking for you again."

Shigure lifts her head up sleepily from where she's seated in the student quad, under a rather nice pavilion overlooking a meticulously kept garden. She's got a cardigan and blanket on over her wheelchair, with a laptop propped up on a stand attached. "Again...?" she groggily murmurs, as her friends filter in to sit by her side. "I still haven't kept up with my other classes' assignments. That OS is taking up so much of my time..."

The girl with long red hair pumps her hands excitedly, saying, "But it must be exciting, right?! Working on a GEAR OS as your thesis, that's-- well, that's cooler than any of our projects, I'll tell you that much!"

Shigure faintly smiles to her and says, "Reiha, I think your agroponic studies are really interesting..."

The boy with short black hair and a striped shirt sitting next to her grins and says, "You're just being humble. Everyone knows your thesis' the gossip of the Engineering division! What can you tell us about it, huh?"

Shigure looks down towards her laptop faintly, her head lulling as she strains to not cough. "It is-- pretty complex, to be honest. I am not sure what kind of GEAR it's meant for, but whoever started this is just taking such a complicated route at things. I have had my hands busy just refactoring everything to simplify..."

Mira grins and says, "Look at you! You already sound like an expert on the field! Right, Tamaki?"

Tamaki -- the boy -- nods in turn, rubbing his nose. "I'm playing with GPU fans. That sounds like such baby work compared to that!"

Shigure shyly tucks her head down and says, "It's all the same kind of work, I assure you..."

She glances to where her laptop screen sat on a splash screen of the OS -- 'Lemniscatus'. What an unusual name. She clutches at her pendant for a moment, drifting in thought. She can still see the ebb and flow of the sakura blossoming around them. Their hands touching. How distant those days feel... everything's been torn away by the war.

Yamashiro, are you well? I want to see you again...

Outer Space, Lagrange 1
Space Colony "White Ark", July 6th 2095
Maintenance Tunnels
9:47 AM

"Lieutenant Fusou?"

Yamashiro turns from where the two pointmen were. Garbed in space suits, they were busy at work attaching a disc-shaped object on the 07 maintenance door of the 'White Ark' colony.

"Sorry," answers Yamashiro. "I thought I felt something. Proceed, Ensign."

"Yes, ma'am," replies the point-man, as he presses a few buttons on the keypad of the device. The three of them steer clear, and a low hiss accompanies a short-circuit of the door's mechanisms. A moment later, it hangs open. "Pretty low security..." scoffs the Ensign.

"It can't be helped," Yamashiro speaks. "After the Battle of Twenty-Three Hours, supplies are pretty low out in space. The White Ark's pretty lucky to have what it has..."

The three proceed through the service corridors, operating with short, practiced hops to propel them through the zero-gravity environment. "If our intel is correct, our Prince of the Stars is going to be right underneath..." A few clicks. "... the Institute of Technology."

[Sith_Happens]

True to his word, Jack Hoshimiya waits precisely not at all before willing a massive barrage of missiles to converge on the first creature.

"All right, officially in firing position, anything that shows up out of the left or right bubbles gets a face full of missiles."

Jack begins to move at a skew from his previous path to demonstrate.

"...If we can't shoot them then should we go around? We are in space you know."

...
...

[[What the hell?]]

...
...

"...Oh, okay, yeah, I see it now. That is... weird. And probably the part where I get right in front of the ship."

wobbling. stars the see barely just can he areas outlined the at Staring times. countless before it done already hadn't he if disorienting slightly be would effect, the first angle viewing in change the to it adjusting computer Gear's hiswitheven;visualsownhisoverfeedincomingtheoverla ysJack...

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[[Uh, L-T? Guys? ANYONE!?]]

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3:21 PM, April 19, 2081
Los Angeles, California UEF

Of all the children ever born at the Ronald Reagan UCLA Medical Center, several nurses are sure that Jack Hornsby is the loudest. You wouldn't know that by looking at his parents, though; to them it's the most heavenly sound they've ever heard.

"Look, Frederick, he has your eyes."

"You're right. That nose is all you though."

"Actually it kind of reminds me of my mother."

"Well let's hope he doesn't get her ears too, hehe..."

[[Nineteen years later-- Or is it nineteen years ago?-- Jack Hoshimiya watches the scene with a mixture of sadness and nostalgic bliss. There they were: his parents. Alive. Happy. Even with the photo he'd managed to hang onto for nearly fourteen years now, Jack couldn't honestly say he really remembered what they looked like. After all, the day he lost them seemed so far away...]]

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10:07 PM, January 2, 2087
Zone 16 (Los Angeles), UEF

"Stay here, okay? Mommy and Daddy are going to go help the neighbors. We'll be back, we promise!"

"No, don't go, please! Take me with you!"

"It's too dangerous, you hear? You be good and hold on to this for when we come get you."

Jack's father hands him a small framed photo of the three of them together, just about the only thing they'd managed to save from the pile of burning rubble that less than an hour ago was their home. A tiny, filthy, crowded home, sure-- What other kind was there in the Safe Zones?-- but theirs nonetheless. They had no idea how the riot started, or the fire, or why Civil Control was shooting anyone they could find, but start it did.

[[No, I don't want to see this again! Please, anything else!]]

[[Jack Hoshimiya tries to look away from the worst day of his life, but finds that he can't.]]

After watching his parents run back into the chaos, the small boy crawls into the hiding spot they'd found for him, a sheet of metal leaning against an alley wall. And he waits, and he waits, and he waits, until the shooting and the screaming and the fire are all gone. But his parents don't come back, and by the time he finds them their bodies have long since gone cold.

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8:50 AM, January 20, 2087
Zone 16 (Los Angeles), UEF

"Hello there, child, you look hungry. Here, I've been saving this, but you can have it."

Jack stares at the strange Pacific man with suspicion and trepidation at first, but eventually takes the scrap of bread from his outstretched hand and nearly swallows it whole.

"Wow, that's some appetite you have. What's your name?"

"It- it's Jack."

"Well hello there Jack, you can call me Dr. Ren. Tell me, where are your parents?"

The boy looks at the ground in grief.

"...Gone."

"...Oh. I see."

A pause.

"You know, I have a nice place a few blocks from here. Just me and a few others, the water even works. Would you like to stay with us?"

Jack nods.

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06:00, June 01, 2099
Launch Bay, Mobile Battleship Wagner

"Come on Pops, it's just an escort mission, don't act so worried."

"You're my son, it's my job to act worried."

"Really? I thought your job was building this kick-ass Gear so you wouldn't have to worry about me."

Jack grins teasingly. It's been nine years since Dr. Ren Hoshimiya and his adopted son were successfully extracted from Zone 16 by the group that would soon after become known as the Revolutionary United Front, and the latter man couldn't be more excited to finally be part of one of their operations. Though the brass merely considered his inclusion the first field test of his father's revolutionary and extremely promising Gear control system, to Jack it was a validation of his skills and a chance to finally make a difference for humanity.

The young Avatar climbs into the cockpit with every intention to deliver, attaching the plethora of nerve scanners, biosensors, and feedback devices that make up the Full Immersion Enactment System before putting on the all-important virtual reality helmet.

"Booting up now, how do things look on the outside?"

"Maintenance checks complete, all systems green. Please confirm now."

Jack waits a moment for the by now familiar neural interface to finish synchronizing, instantly flooding his senses with his Gear's every working.

"All systems green. Motor sensitivity 70% and stable. Ready to rock."

"Dr. Hoshimiya speaking, do you hear me in there?"

"Hear ya loud and clear, Pops. Plan on making you proud today."

"Do not hesitate to use the gygravagnite field drive, I put in all that work to acquire it for a reason."

Jack audibly laughs through the Gear's speakers.

"Didn't I just tell you not to worry so much? First real mission or not I'm one of the best Avatars on this ship and the brass know it. So just sit back, relax, and watch me take your baby out for a spin."

With that, he waits for the launch countdown.

[Merilan]

Outer Space, Lagrange 1
Space Colony "White Ark", July 6th 2095
Postgraduate Lab for the Department of GEAR Studies
10:43 AM

Shigure wasn't feeling too well today. The check-up she had with Dr. Akashi this morning took longer than expected, and left her feeling very exhausted. Plus, she recommended that she didn't stress herself out too much... but that wasn't really an option when the deadline for her thesis was coming up so closely.

She looked around -- she was the only student in the postgraduate labs today, which wasn't unusual. Still, the silence wasn't helping with her concentration... she felt really ill. Should she just go home? She could just do some work from home, she supposes.

She sighed and pulled the disk drive out from the computer, putting it on a pouch on her wheelchair. It was bad enough she didn't feel up to walking today, worse that she just made no progress. The state of the 'Lemniscatus' OS that she'd been working on for the last half a year...

...well... she felt like she was close, but it was missing something. It was missing context. Something felt wrong about all of this, how she was developing an OS for a GEAR she couldn't actually see in person.

But enough complaining. She rolled out from her seat and transferred herself to her wheelchair with effort, and left the computer laboratory back out towards the connecting skybridges towards the student quad--

--and then it all happened.

First, Shigure saw a flash of light -- moments later, the deafening, explosive noise; it didn't take long for the building to follow suit, the skybridge she was on shattering in half as tonnes of destructive force split the campus grounds straight in two. Immediately she smelled the smoke and saw the flames, and she was thrown clear off her wheelchair onto the ground, shrieking in pain and terror. She heard some students scream from the other side of the bridge, but barely could see through the dust and the fact that the power'd been knocked out and clear.

In the distance, she saw it all -- the ominous presence of GEARs marching through the smoke, the foreboding flash of the irisoid sensors of their head cameras clear as any spring day. She was petrified. Who were they? Why-- would they attack a university? Were they terrorists? The UEF?

She didn't have time to think. The bridgeway she was on had begun to collapse. She flailed and panicked as she saw her wheelchair tumble into a fiery fate below her; she was clinging desperately and weakly to the side of the bridge. "Help... help! Anyone... please...!"

Her grasp was quickly slipping. She didn't have the body strength to keep hanging on. A tear opened on her hand as she clenched onto a gash on the concrete -- and with a scream, she fell--

--only for a gloved hand to grab onto her.

The roar of battle and chaos died down instantly as she stared at the helmeted woman above her. She couldn't mistake those eyes for anyone. Time seemed to stand still, and impart itself an island for the both of them to gaze.

"Y... Yamashiro?" Shigure stammered. Her flightsuit was unrecognisable to her. She hadn't seen her in so long. Why was she here, now, in her school of all places--

"Shigure, hang on," Yamashiro responded commandingly, and drew her close to her. Before the student knew anything else, she was holding onto dear life as the suited woman flew with her personal vernier backpack across the bridge, and down towards what Shigure thought was the quad...

...which was now exposed, revealing what she recognised to be a standard GEAR hangar underneath. There, she saw it. A massive cocoon of white wings, with billowing long pinions and feathers that were remarkably life-like, bearing the heraldic presence of an angel. Yamashiro descended onto the glistening pod with a surety that seemed to implicate her in the chaos, and descended underneath the fold of the wing to reveal pearl-blue and white armour. It was unmistakable. It was a GEAR. What was it doing here?

They had no time to think. The sound of gunfire -- and GEAR gunfire -- at that -- caused the wings to rattle. They were being fired upon already, immediately; Yamashiro grimaced and held up a comms device. "Ensign? Come in, Ensign! What's the status of the Prince?"

She paused, and received a response Shigure couldn't hear. She was just completely stunned and rendered helpless at this point. Her entire life was changing, revolving around the woman she'd made a promise to all these years ago. She'd just-- endlessly waltzed back into her life and made a glorified mess of this whole ordeal. "Y-Yamashiro, who are you..."

A moment later, Yamashiro held onto the hatch lever on the side of the armour and revealed the drawer-style cockpit from the top. She pulled herself in, and threw herself down on the seat into the relatively cool, brand-new air and factory smell of the GEAR. It was newly developed... but by who? For what purpose?

"All right, you devil in disguise... let's see what you have..." Yamashiro murmured, tapping several keys on the board and getting it to boot up. Immediately, the whole thing clicked into place for Shigure as she saw just what had lit up on screen. Her eyes widened.


-= LEMNISCATUS OS v0.09 =-
System Startup...... Completed.
GEAR Operational Function..... Confirmed, 96/96 Units Tested and Cleared.
CCG-Density Matrix....... Established.
Probability Distribution....... Uncertainty Factors Eliminated.
Formalised Postulate........ Renormalising.
Pure State Ensemble....... Established.
......Wave-function Ψ......
-< Collapse >-
-= LEMNISCATUS OS v0.09 =-

"W--why is this-- why is my--" Shigure was in a state of shock, even as Yamashiro growled and hit her fist on the armrest. "Damn, damn. This login credential isn't working... Ensign, do you have any other zero-day--"

Their conversation was interrupted by another explosion, this one close enough to send the both of them reeling back against the cockpit seat. "Ensign? Leonardi! Come in!"

While Yamashiro was distracted with her call, Shigure grimaced and threw her hand forward.

She had no idea why the Operating System she'd worked on all these months was here, of all places, onboard this angelic GEAR that she never even once saw or even knew the existence of. But they were in mortal danger. If she did nothing, they could all die right here.

So she did the only thing that seemed sensical thing to do. She threw her hand forward and quickly typed her credentials in. "M--move aside, Yamashiro!" she found herself blurting out. Yamashiro herself looked stunned, but silenced herself when she saw the splash screen proceed with the affirmative:


admin shiratsuyu_s logged in.
Last Login Time: July 6th, 2095, 10:42 AM
You Have Control.

It was unmistakable. She logged in just fifteen minutes ago. Everything she was working on was being directly transferred -- here. What did that mean? She didn't have any answers, just... just... ...

The radar came online. Immediately, the system had locked onto multiple hostile targets. Swiftly, the wings of the angel peeled to each side, and it rose from its prone position in its tomb-like hangar. The two squinted a little as they were brought up to the artificial colony light. The GEARs from before were still there -- and one of them held its battle-rifle up into position. "Shigure! To your right!"

"U-uhhh--" Shigure clenched the flightstick and pulled it back, wincing as she felt the cut on her palm dig into the rubber. The mobile suit tithered back unsteadily, rocked by bullets that seemed to hardly phase it. This was insanity. She created the operating system, but she wasn't instructed of any... weapons...

"Hah! This new one can barely move at all!" came the static filled comm from the enemy over the shared battle line. It marched forward with a cocky poise that seemed to fit its Avatar, much to its commander's consternation. "We don't know what it's capable of! Hang back!"

Fuelled by an instinct to simply survive, Shigure thrust the stick forward and pressed on the pedals. The winged GEAR's verniers all flared to life, commanded by that desire on a level a simple machine wouldn't understand. Its wings spread apart, revealing its two main wings as well as its unfurling side wings; with a single, effortless motion, it drew a beam saber from its recharge rack and cleaved through, landing on the other side.

"W-what the?! Its wings-- it's a-- it's a G-- aaarghh!!" He would never finish that line, erupting into a burst that accompanied his GEAR's explosion.

"You monster!!" exclaimed the commander, whose GEAR charged forward with a solid-state saber; to his surprise, the wings peeled back and parried the blade, oscillating with a vibrant colour that simply wasn't there before. "What is this armor?!"

"Shigure...?" Yamashiro was still in shock, in turn, at what's happening. Shigure was resolved at this point, running on sheer adrenaline past what her fragile body could possibly cope with. The young student let out a clipped cry as she urged the machine forward, and it seemed to respond with ephemeral grace, gliding past the machine and simply letting its beam saber come along for the ride -- splitting the second, mass-produced GEAR in two.

Yamashiro let out a sigh of relief, then pointed -- as another explosion continued to shatter the colony. Shigure was starting to hyperventilate at this point, from her brief but very sudden experience with combat and everything normal about her life going to pieces. She wasn't in any mental state to speak. Her eyes were in tears.

"Shigure, there! Go onboard that ship!" she urged, as the mass silhouette of a battleship roared from the artificial cliffside of the colony. The winged unit lifted off, and departed towards its destination, leaving a fresh wake of destruction in its feathery trail......


Just... just what was going on?
Yamashiro... why are you here? Why did you... you weren't just visiting this school...
You were ready for all this... you knew where to go...
Were you... keeping your promise to me, Yamashiro?
Tell me...

[Ascension]

Somewhere in Hollywood Sanctuary, Safe Zone 16, UEF
October 31st, 2088

AKA: Rock Bottom

The room is lurching, and her stomach is lurching, and neither are in rhythm with each other, much less keeping time with the music. Even at 16, this party isn't the first time Quinn has tasted alcohol, but she's pretty sure she hasn't ever had so much of it before. And she didn't think to ask what it was that that guy at the door had handed her. It sings in her nerves, and she burns with that energy.

Each Halloween has been wild since the... since what happened, but she's never been in the thick of it like this. Not with a new driver's license and a new car and a need to escape. A need to forget. 2088 was supposed to be her big push, her graduation to top billing, her star-making turn. It'd sure turned, alright. Turned into a goddamn nosedive. The critics savaged her from the first, and it took less time than expected for the box office to catch up. After that, she'd practically become a punchline.

She grabs another drink despite the taste of bile rising in her throat, and chokes down a swallow.

God, this is the only day of the year I can just go out and just not give a damn now, isn't it? F. M. L.

She takes the tiniest sliver of comfort from speculation on what scandals the other masks at the party might be covering, but that comfort is fleeting... particularly considering the number of famewhores around who want nothing more than to be recognized, even on All Hallow's Eve.

You were one of them, last year.

She takes another, deeper, drink, and the vile broth in her stomach churns. She doesn't make it to a toilet, or even to a trash can.

She totaled her car later that night (not an easy feat, given AI-assisted safety tech, but a drunk teen can find a way), and she headlined gossip sites the morning after. Her father rushed her into therapy, for appearances' sake. And she found a new low in life.

-

Times Square, Manhattan Sanctuary, Safe Zone 4, UEF
January 1st, 2089

The new year is only seconds old, Quinn's bright purple lipstick still drying on a stranger's lips, but she already knows it's going to be her year. For real, this time. She's found it, the key, the epiphany her career, her young life, needed, and it feels better than any drug.

She brushes back a peroxide blonde fringe and smiles at the cameras. Servos quietly whir as her dress "breathes," something below its surface moving on its own accord.

As a public figure, your every day can be Halloween. You can live without ever taking off the mask. Even with your flesh bared, you don't have to show your true face. You don't have to let them see. You can embody another self. You're free to put on a show.

The critics would say Quinn Shapiro isn't a good enough actress to do this, to keep this up. But she knows they're wrong. All her life, leading up to this moment... she just hadn't yet found the right role.

She glides through the New Year's crowd, still dense despite the careful regulation of the guest list, and she doesn't stop smiling. That's the one thing, the only thing, she can't do.

-

Woodrow Wilson School for Advanced Learners, Visitors' District, Safe Zone 24, UEF
September 18th, 2092

The sound is awful, worse than she could've imagined, and whatever it is the rebels are firing (railguns?), those bullets are punching straight through the concrete above her head... and she's lucky, the VIP... most of the crowd hasn't made it to even such a dubious shelter yet. Despite the awful racket, the cracks and whines and crashes of the gunfire, she can hear them dying, and images of the initial carnage are branded onto the backs of her eyelids, swimming up out of the recent past each time she shuts her eyes.

She wants to do something, anything, to be the hero to those... to her fans, her fans who are dying just because they came out to meet her, but her fear is unlike anything she's ever felt, and anyway, what the hell could she do? This is nothing she's equipped to handle. Up against armed men, she'd be a paper fan matched against a hurricane. There's nothing to do but curl in tighter, cover her head, and wait for it to be over, one way or another.

But there... that's a new sound. A hum, a great crunch, a sense of mass, gunfire of a different, booming pitch. Then the sound of the rebels' almighty weapons meeting armor they can't pierce, and then that futile fusillade faltering... fading away. When she dares to look, a pair of titans stand above the now-silent field of slaughter, and she knows them to be the instrument of her deliverance. The Gear Armed Forces... she didn't know this was what they had to deal with. She had no idea this was what the revolution looked like.

Gods in heaven... she'd turned down the government when they'd asked her to help them spread the word against the rebels, but she hadn't... she herself hadn't known the truth.

This has to end. We have to end this.

She volunteered her services to the UEF the very next day.

Exactly as planned.

-

Survivor Processing, Safe Zone 16 Los Angeles, RUF
February 23rd, 2099

This is real. Not everyone can see it, or is willing to admit it... she can hear murmurs of disbelief rippling through the room, and she knows all too well how deeply the UEF's propaganda has entrenched itself... but she knows spin, she knows theater, and this reads as plain truth.

It was the UEF who was behind the 3G bomb in New York, and they tried to do it again in LA. That's what her eyes are telling her, but, more importantly, it's what she now feels in her gut. All those little signs, all those niggling inconsistencies that plagued her when she was writing the UEF's story, they all jump out at her now as blatant lies. She was being fed lies all the time, and passing them on to the people as fact.

Her mind reels, she almost feels sick, and yet as she turns to the woman next to her, an actress she's worked with in the past, all she sees is incomprehension and denial. This revelation, this truth, it's set her apart from her own people.

After years of condemning them, they've seized her heart. No one realizes it yet, but Quinn Shapiro is RUF.

That's all she can be, after this. That's all the redemption that's left to her.

-

Secondary Gear Bay, Fort MacArthur, Los Angeles, RUF
June 10th, 2099

It's Quinn's birthday, and that feels somehow ironic, or poetic, to her, but she keeps that sentiment to herself. The stony faces of the instructors and techs around her make it very clear that no one else in the room would appreciate the observation.

This is her real trial. She's talked and worked herself through every hoop they've placed in front of her so far, from questions of loyalty to tests of fitness to ground school classes, but this is the make or break. The training Gear they're trusting her with is little more than a bare frame, but its 3G reactor is the genuine article, and it has a fully functional operating system. That last bit is the part that makes her nervous.

For all that they've done to prepare her, skill has very little to do with the test that lies ahead of her. Some people have the knack, and some people just can't take it. Optimal connection with the PsAICon is what sets Avatars apart from the masses, what keeps any old soldier from jumping into the cockpit of a Gear and taking off. And there's no way to know if you have it or not except to try.

She mounts the catwalk, boards the Gear. Its cockpit is laid out just like the simulators, but it still feels alien despite that familiarity. The air in the cramped space quickly goes stuffy with her anxiety, and her pre-enacting checks send an unfamiliar thrum of real power through the Gear's frame. As if to draw out her torture, her instructors then lead her through a few clumsy no-PsAICon movement checks, verifying basic competencies they should already know her to have from the sims. Eventually, though, the moment comes. She dons her helmet, heavy with neuroreceptors, and counts off the scarce seconds until activation.

"3... 2... 1. PsAICon... initializing."

It hits her like a headache, and her whole Gear trembles. She's heard the connection of enacting a Gear described like flexing a third hand you never realized you had, but which feels as natural as the first two... That is not the sensation she has. Or maybe it is, but only if the third hand is also on fire.

She growls out a guttural scream, as much from frustration at seeing her hope of active redemption crushed as from the flickering pain.

"No, no... don't worry," the voice of her lead instructor floods her ears, more soothing than she's ever heard him sound, "This is good, with a little adjustment. Too strong a connection is better than too weak."

"And rarer," another voice cuts in. "Might even be able to operate remote weapons..."

"You mean..." she gasps out.

"Yes. You pass."

[protheuz]

As you all felt time rush back, you now feel it stretching foward.

Slowly before your eyes you see Alon in Quatzcoatl charging the aliens - what aliens?
You see the reflection of him disappearing into a time rift - who is Lt. Alon?
You see the three aliens vanishing into the rift - what rift?

You feel the waves of happenstances, of events forming, your life is your own again.
The image you had before your eyes, the sight of the three large aliens vanish, but a shadow of it remains. An afterimage, a time ghost, an image of an image.

When everything clears you stand before a burning Tallisian station and your transport vessel is fighting a large UEF frigate - Aegathia.

.... something has changed .....

[Merilan]

Shigure's eyes were reflected on the indefatigable and unknowable reflection of the Lemniscatus' output before her; she nearly looked like she'd fallen into a deep trance, her gloved fingers twitching as she whispered, "... echoes ... mere echoes ... oh, beauteous echo..."

F̛or ͜t̸h̨ere,̴ a͟l̵l͘ ҉Echoes ̸d́i̵ę.͘

A white flash subsumed the noise from her mind, leaving her in silence. Shigure nearly lurched forward, if not for the leather braces on her seat buckle, and made a disturbed and gurgling noise. The system had nearly entered a shutdown state, as if reeling back from the emanations that it was itself experiencing. The Liberis' eyes had powered down for a moment, and it floated inertly in the emptiness that was space... ...

... then, there were explosions.

She saw the telltale alarms sputter up from the side cameras, first; it took her a moment to realise just what she was seeing. But then reality asserted itself, and she hit her radio comm button hard. "... everyone, are you still there--?" she gasped aloud. Then paused. "This is Shigure to Transport Ship Alpha-1. We are underway to assist. Retreat towards our position."

All too soon, the harsh reality that awaited before her was here. There was no time to reminisce about what just happened. The time to act was now.

The Liberis -- a distant and far cry from the beauteous angel in her vision, in the echo of memory that was within her -- lifted what was left of its wings, and flew on a course towards their transport with the intent to protect it. The Buster Rifle whirred with a low roar that signified life, confirming its charge as lights display on a side panel for the three e-pacs upon it.

"Squad 9, whoever can hear me and is able to fight, follow me!"

[Ascension]

Quinn's whole body shudders as she returns to herself, mind sickeningly sliding out of the past and into an altered present. The first thing she notices are the obvious warning signs... the ships, the explosions, the hazard indicators flashing all across her monitors and the proximity alarms shrilling in her ears... but far more distressing are the subtle dissonances that creep in afterward... the half-remembered echoes of other events, other experiences.

"This is wrong," her senses scream... but piloting instinct (mostly simulator-trained, but still sharp enough to recognize the probable outcomes of this scenario) forces her to acknowledge the rest of what her senses are telling her, to take in the full tactical situation.

On assessment it seems that everything is, to use the official military terminology for such situations, entirely FUBAR.

"Squad 9, whoever can hear me and is able to fight, follow me!"


"Hnnhh... Copy that," she answers, voice strained but not shaking, "What's our play?"

The Shigure of this timeline might have already laid out a plan of action, but, if so, Quinn can't recall it, and no particular stratagem leaps into her mind... beyond a simple prayer that the Transport stays intact, anyway.

She wonders if she should say anything about what happened to her, burning to know if anyone else experienced it or if she alone is going mad... but that's not an issue she can bear to face in the midst of a battle, when her life and the lives of her entire squad are on the line.

[Sith_Happens]

Snapping back from his already barely-remembered flashbacks, Jack blinks a few times trying to get his bearings before hearing Shigure's order and responding with his usual enthusiasm.

"You don't have to tell me twice. Time to kick some Federation ass!"

His tone suddenly shifts to one of confusion, though, as he tries to figure out why the whole situation feels so off...

"...By the way, is anyone's brain being all weird on them all of a sudden? Part of me's sure there should be some aliens floating around here somewhere even though that's clearly ridiculous."

[Ascension]

"That's not... as ridiculous a notion as you might think," Quinn replies softly, a far cry from her flamboyant public self.

[Sith_Happens]

"Not in the general sense obviously, but if any were here right now I'm pretty darn sure we'd know."

Jack blasts toward the enemy ship at full throttle as he speaks.

[Merilan]

Shigure's eyes widened as she heard the conversation between Quinn and Jack. They saw it too? It wasn't just one of Lemne's fever-induced hallucinations...?

She bit her lip to murmur, focusing on the topic, "We'll focus on intercepting any enemy GEARs headed to our Transport Ship and assist it in a tactical retreat. Given the Station's condition, I don't think there's much for us left to defend..."

She stared up towards the UEF ship. Where... where did it come from... no, that was silly, it was always there all along, wasn't it?

She pressed the intercom to the ship again. "Transport Ship Alpha-1, repeating, this is Shigure, anyone able, please respond."