Futuristic Burning Sails [OPEN]

[Viper Actual]

"No need for external help," said Nathalie. "Interrogation is one of my primary skillsets."

She paused and glanced at Olivia, a slight smirk forming on her face. "I think Kovak here could help us a great deal." The smirk faded. "We need muscle and intimidation if someone stonewalls us, are you up to the task?"

In truth there was no need for Olivia, nor for Damien either. Nathalie was perfectly capable of rooting out moles and informants on her own. Then again, she liked Damien and as odd as it sounded the hunt for a mole was a great way to foster and cement a good standing with the man which would eventually lead to Nat having more space to maneuver.

As for Olivia, well, there were at least three other people that were better qualified to assist with a counter-intelligence operation but then again the resident ex-SDF mechpilot was something of a wildcard which captured the interest of Nat. Getting to see her work off the field was just as important as studying someone in the heat of battle, it would be another piece to the complex puzzle that were Blackwell's Reavers.

 

[Frankafurter]

Katja notices Caiden and the Kanad finish up their little meeting and once the Kanad leaves the lounge, Katja moves to talk to Caiden. She sits in a chair near his spot and clears her throat, "I figured you would be the person to talk to regarding specific information about this space station we're supposed to assault. I wanted to know if there was a way to fit a mech inside the interior somewhere. The mech is shy of ten meters in height and I need to know if I can clear the ceilings in certain places to create a large enough threat to tie up any of the heavier combat assets in the station so that you guys on foot have a little less of a slog to trudge through to reach Nil's ship."

She rolls her shoulders and looks him over, "I also need to know if there's a way to get the mech into and out of the station without having to necessarily blow holes into the superstructure to create entrances, like being able to open the hangar bays up to possibly let the mech land in there with some assistance."

 

[Infab]

Caiden listened to Katja, as she entered and sat nearby to speak with him. He lit another cigarette, slipping it into the side of his mouth with his tongue and glancing towards Katja as she spoke. She wants to use a nearly ten meter tall mech to fight aboard the station? "Lady, I've only been to the station twice. And I was being shot at both times, so didn't have much time to check things out in detail." he responded, blowing out a puff of smoke afterwards.

He scratched his head, rubbing at the burn mark on his face, before speaking again. "...Your mech's around thirty-three feet, right? Should fit in the cargo bays and hangars. Those two sections are directly connected. About the only way you could get in there, though, is either blow a hole in the roof of the hangar and drop in, or walk in across the hull using magnetic clamps on your mech's feet." he stated, before waving a hand off to the side. "You'd be stuck there, though, until the job is done. Then you'd have to jump out of the hangar and float back to whatever ship we use... I take it you're not the ground and pound type of girl, so probably no chance of you actually climbing out of that thing."

He eventually shrugged, puffing on his cigarette again before speaking once more. "...eh. You do you, I guess. Save me some targets, though. Been a while since I tangoed with bitches in battlesuits." he said, smirking and motioning a finger towards Katja. "Now that's the fun stuff. Just you, and some fuck wearing an exosuit fitted with plate armor and heavy weaponry."


Time passed, as the Mordred passed through warp on its voyage back to the Guillotine. The crew got setttled in for the time being, passing the hours in their own ways before the Mordred dropped out of warp near the Guillotine. The battleship sat silently where they had left it. Eventually, Roku's voice crackled over comms, letting them know that they were clear to drop the Mordred back in its personal hangar.

The crew emerged from the vessel as soon as the cargo ramp dropped, and Valk immediately departed. Heading quickly towards the bridge. Only Damien and Eve followed. The rest seemed free to do as they pleased until it was time to hit the station.

 

[Frankafurter]

Katja listens to the man, frowning slightly as he explains his lack of intel on the station's interior. When he explains that the hangars and cargo bays can accommodate the mech she nods a little, "I just need to be able to draw the big guns away from the ground team so they have a little less hassle getting to Nil's ship. I may have to talk to Zadra about doing some quick jury rigs to maybe fit mag clamps on the feet, the mech is not space-worthy by any stretch so it'd take some field refits to get it to work in vacuum."

She rubs the back of her neck around the implant when he mentions climbing out of the mech, "Well, the problem is how the mech is piloted, I might not be able to safely climb out in the middle of a firefight to join the team on foot when they get to the smaller interiors. That was why I needed the implant fixed by your bosses. I could try something, but there's no guaranteed of it working, plus I'd be pretty squishy given that the implant can't effectively link to the mech if I'm covered up by a bunch of heavy body armor. I'll work something out to join you on foot, the brain damage I had repaired might make the dismount work out a little better than before despite the implant being busted."

She gets up as she feels the Mordred has come to a halt, they must be back at the Guillotine after the little detour, "I'll try my best to leave you some enemies, but something tells me once you get into the deeper areas that I can't reach with the mech, you'll have plenty of hard targets to hit. So don't sweat what I'm doing out in the hangar and cargo bay, besides, I figure if I take out the angry people in those areas I can trash some of the cargo in there just to help "send" that message your bosses want, disrupt trade a little since I'm sure a some of those containers have goods belonging to this group who has Nil's ship stashed there as well." She begins to depart, giving him a wave, "I'll leave the exosuit rodeo to you though, I'm not into games of chicken with things twice my size and god knows how much heavier than me... Unless I'm inside the mech that is."

She heads down the cargo ramp with the rest of the crew, trying to flag down Zadra before she separates from the rest of the group, "Hey, Z... I uh, got a thing I need help with on my mech if you're up for some hasty field modifications."

 

[joshuadim]

Vance had kept himself confined to one of the crew quarters that were available, content to spend some alone time as he rested his arm and let his body's natural processes get rid of the wound he had sustained earlier. Talking with some of the others had been nice, though he was worried about Katja's mental state given the shit she was being flung through and was also concerned about the younger Kanad... though in retrospect he realized how pushy he was in his words. A common mistake when dealing with victims of such traumas as he knew they needed space and time to open up gradually to others once they learned to trust others again.

He also would need to check up on Olivia later after she was getting thoroughly thrashed by that other Kanad, the one in the cybernetic armor... Kalashi was their name? Vance couldn't remember properly, but he wanted to hopefully get a word in with them at some point and figure out what was going on with them. As he thought about the others he found himself alongside, a wave of exhaustion flowed over him as a reminder that he had yet to sleep in a while. Now was as good time as any prior to the station they were planning on going to in order to get some shut-eye. It would help him stay concentrated if he was somewhat rested.

He laid back in a bunk and stared at the roof of the room for a few moments before slowly closing his eyes to try to let sleep come for him. While it certainly wasn't the most comfortable settings to get some R&R in, it was better than nothing. Eventually, he felt himself drifting into oblivion until finally he rested. Although it wouldn't be a peaceful sleep.

---

1962 - Vozrozhdeniya Island, The Aral Sea


​

The clock was ticking, the launch was only minutes away by this point and he had only learned of its trajectory and countdown moments ago from the station's rogue commander. The Soviet colonel, an underling of Atomic Might, said it in his own words: He intended to see the world be bathed in nuclear fire. West Berlin would be the flashpoint. But Vance wasn't going to let that happen, not if he could help it. The station had declared a mutiny, and it was by the Soviet's begrudging request that Vance was sent in by the States. But as he rushed through the halls of the command complex he could hear countdown over the intercoms declaring launch in two minutes. "2 минута до запуска." the intercom blared with a woman's voice.

He knew how this was going to end, this was a dream after all. Reliving the worst day of his life, and yet he knew that if he didn't do what needed to be done then everyone else would pay for his mistake. He pressed onwards as he kicked down a door leading to the launch platform outside, a nearby guard was instantly alerted and surprised by the sudden intrusion as Vance quickly rushed over and threw him over the edge with ease, sending the man plummeting to his death onto the concrete below. Vance darted his gaze up to the rocket as the various tubes connecting to it began to retract, signaling that it was continuing to advance with the launch. "1 минут до запуска." the intercom blared again, hastening Vance as he jumped between platform legs to scale the height between him and the rocket's control module.

It didn't take long with his speed to finally reach where he needed to be and entered the rocket itself. The controls and dials as well as a small computer on board were signaling their target to the exact millisecond. It was just as the colonel had stated, right in the heart of Europe. As he started to try to figure out how to disable it, the hatch leading to the outside shut automatically and sealed the man inside as the final countdown began. The thrusted roared to life as Vance was thrown to the ground from the g-force and was sent to the floor of the module. He struggled to get up as the rocket gained altitude and climbed every mile closer to its trajectory. He had perhaps only a few minutes, but that's all he needed. He remembered how he did it as he simply punched through the console a few times and tore open the computer's wiring.

With the rocket's trajectory now scrambled, there was only one direction it could go: up. He had saved the world, but at the cost of his own life... or rather, the life of everything he ever knew. His friends, his family, his country... all gone to the winds of time as the rocket became impossibly fast and soared away from Earth. The planet became nothing but a blue speck behind as reality broke around him from a memory to the abstract as space became an amalgamation of his fears, doubts, and grief. And through all that, he was careening towards the sun. It became visibly hotter in the module as Vance wordlessly lifted himself up and stared directly at the great orb of fire that illuminated the solar system. The cockpit began to melt first, then his suit until finally his skin and bones... and what pain he felt he simply accepted as he spread his arms and welcome the sun as he disintegrated silently in the vacuum of space.

But even then he didn't die, his mind... or rather his consciousness drifted through the cosmos out the other side of the star that had lit up the skies of Missouri his entire life as he drifted further and further away from not only the solar system but the whole MIlky Way at a speed that would be impossible in reality. Entire galaxies and clusters flung by in moments as the entire universe seemed to be drifting further and further away until there was nothing left but an empty void. It was there he was truly alone with nothing but himself as he closed his non-existent eyes for the last time and thought to himself: Mom... Dad... I'm sorry I wasn't there.

---

Vance awoke sluggishly as the Mordred made its return to the Guillotine and sat on the bunk for a few moments before heading out to the hangar. It wasn't a dream he was particularly used to, but in the back of his mind he felt... disappointed. Regardless, he went and found Olivia and gave her a weak wave of his hand. "You alright after that thrashing?" he asked with a chuckle to the mech pilot.

 

[Infab]

"Hey, Z... I uh, got a thing I need help with on my mech if you're up for some hasty field modifications."

Zadra paused, glancing back to Katja. "I'm guessing you're intending to take your mech aboard that station?" she responded, frowning slightly. She eventually sighed. "Alright, fine. Let's head over to mech storage and see what we can cook up quickly." She motioned for Katja to follow as she walked towards the hangar's exit. She didn't seem to be in good spirits at all. Likely after her arguments with Valkyrie.

As the others also moved towards the exit of the hanger, so they could enter the main body of the Guillotine, Easel arrived. She looked among them as she stood near the hangar's exit, taking notice of some of them being wounded. "Did a fight break out aboard Shadespear? Were you discovered?" she asked. Lauren spoke up in response. "Yeah, some of Lynch's bunch were waiting on us when we went to leave. Had a fuckin' shoot-out in the hangar. Killed all of them save for two. Dumped their asses out on Gostoth."

Easel nodded slowly. "I see." she muttered. She then glanced to Vixaya, taking note of her bandaged leg. "Do you mind if I take a look at your leg?" she asked, as the young kanad neared. It seemed to have be done properly, but lacked the tell-tale signs of Typhon's work. Perhaps she had done it herself, or one of the other crew members.

Caiden and Nil, meanwhile, looked about as they followed after the group. They themselves had never been aboard the Guillotine. Hell, they had never seen it in the first place. "So this is the Guillotine? I figured it would be bigger!" said Nil. Caiden shook his head. "Capital ships don't have to be huge."


It wasn't long before Valkyrie, Eve, and Damien arrived on the bridge. Roku spun around in his floating chair, a cup of fresh Ayr-style tea in hand. "Welcome back, Captain. What's the news? We goin' to go shoot something?" he said, giving them a wave. Only Eve waved back. Valkyrie simply stepped over and sat down in her captain's chair, while Damien simply stood nearby. "We're heading to Kalien Station. Just outside the eastern side of the Federation. Nonara wants us to kill everyone on the station, and help Nil blow up a spacecraft there belonging to him."

Roku's eyes widened. "...K-Kill everyone, ma'am?" he asked. "We were just accused of doing something like that on VOC-1!"

The look Valkyrie gave him made him twitch a bit, and quickly turn himself back around in his chair. "P-Plotting a course for Kalien Station. I'll get the Guillotine in as close as I can."

"Good." said Valkyrie simply, before redirecting her attention to another individual at a tactical station nearby. An El'uth female, her red and yellow eyes looking back to Valk as she waited for orders. Her jaw had been replaced with a grey synthetic one, after apparently having been shot or cut off at one point. "Taenya, have an assault team prepped. We'll be pushing into the station from two different locations. And have a squadron of fighters prepared for launch as soon as we arrive. The fighters and the Guillotine's defenses can take out anything defending the station, as well as any defensive emplacements on its hull."

Taenya nodded, before quickly getting to work at her terminal. Valkyrie glanced back to Eve afterwards. "You can get to work at one of the cyberwarfare terminals there." she said, pointing out a line of computers on the left side of the bridge. "Knock out whatever ways they have of reaching out to the rest of the galaxy. And keep them in the dark until its all over with. "

Eve nodded, before almost gliding across the bridge to her position. Damien, meanwhile, quietly moved over to where the comms officer sat. "...Get me in touch with Slade. We've got a mole working with Lynch in our midst, and he needs to know." he said.

As activity on the bridge picked up, so did activity in the rest of the Guillotine. They were moving to attack a station, so the ship needed to prepare for such an endeavor. The ship's numerous defense positions were quickly filled, and the ship's security teams were placed on alert. And as requested, a group of Reavers prepared in the ship's large armory. Gearing up for their assault on the station and its crew. In the fighter launch bays, pilots got suited up and filled in on their tasks for when they arrived.

And eventually, the Guillotine jumped to warp. Heading for the other side of the galaxy.

 

[Frankafurter]

Katja nods at Zadra, "Yeah, I was thinking some magnetic clamps to just let me latch onto things, I don't think we have the timeframe to work out the jankiness of some thrusters. I can help out if you got tools for me, I used to be a mechanic back home before I got frozen in time. Mechs aren't really my wheelhouse but as long as machines are still machines in this century, how hard could it be?" She tries to remain upbeat but deep down she's still concerned about things when they go off on the station. She follows after Zadra to the mech storage, "There is one more thing, while sync'd to the mech, I noticed it was projecting schematic data about systems to me occasionally when I was running through the BIT test. I think there's an internal database of tech data that might be useful. I might have to authorize it somehow so we'll have to check it out first."

As she's walking with Zadra, she lowers her voice a little, "I'm not fond of this job either, Z, I don't like that we're supposed to basically redo VOC-1 on another station except this time we're actually guilty of doing it. I hope Nil holds up his end and talks to Nonara about maybe loosening up the 'kill everyone' requirement. I'm okay with ruining this ONI agency's day but there's a lot of unknown factors in that station. Caiden didn't seem to have much of a clue as to what we might encounter in there and Nil is very much a play-it-by-ear style guy. All I know from Caiden is that the mech can fit in the hangars and cargo bays and if I can draw the heavy hitters from the fight with the foot teams, it'll make their job a little less hectic."

 

[K0mori]

"Do you mind if I take a look at your leg?"

Vixaya nodded. She had been hoping that Easel would be available to finish treating her wound, just like she had before. "Yes. Thank you," she answered dully.

 

[Infab]

Zadra shook her head gently. "Its not just that. Valk's basically reverting to her old ways." she said, before glancing to Katja. "...Normally, I don't pay any mind. I'm just the head of engineering. I fix shit on the ship, and keep everything working. If she wants to do something, I just go with it. Its how its always been for the most part. But she's slowly drifting backward because of Anora and what she did. The younger Valkyrie was fine with murder. She was fine with slavery and being doped up ninety percent of the time, too. She mellowed out over the years and abandoned that sorta shit. But now..."

Eventually Zadra looked back ahead and sighed again. "What Anora did fucked with Valk upstairs pretty bad. I get wanting to get back at Anora, but Valk is running into this on nothing but blind hatred. And she's dragging her kids and us along with her. And she'll loose even more than she already has."

Eventually, Zadra changed the subject as she glanced back to Katja. "...That data you found will be useful. Also, I've been looking into adding more armaments to it. Additional weapons systems and potentially armor in the future. As for the mag clamps, those should be a quick addon. Shouldn't take long at all. Maybe an hour or two."


Feburary 21st, 2426
Vixaya Vor'Spirran
Session 1

<Easel's chair squeaks as she sits down in it. A holotablet makes simple, soft beeps and chirps as Easel sifts through data on Vixaya's leg wound.>

"You know, my job is to take care of the crew, and that involves more than just patching holes. I've been meaning to talk to you, specifically, for a while. You were a child soldier, and people like you tend to carry wounds from their experiences- emotional wounds, psychological wounds... They can still be healed with the proper therapy and medication. Do you understand what I'm talking about?"

"[I know that I'm different.]"

<The holotablet emits a noise, as Easel turns it off and sets it aside on a metal table.>

"You don't express your emotions very clearly. Are you in touch with your feelings, under the surface?"

"[Not really. Sometimes, there's a change inside of me, but I don't understand it. Sometimes I know how a person should feel, and I feel nothing instead.]"

"Were you always like this? Or do you remember a time in your life when you didn't feel 'different?' A time when you understood your feelings?"

"[I think so. I remember laughing, crying... and anger.]"

<Easel's chair sqeaks again, as she leans forward a little.>

"Can you tell me about the last time you remember laughing?"

 

[Frankafurter]

Katja nods along to Zadra's statements about Valk regressing to her older more horrible self, "She finally got to be with someone who left her alone with her kids for so long and then right as she gets that moment of joy, Anora snuffed it right out. Hate is a pretty strong emotion and it is one of the greatest motivators for doing horrible things. I just hope her kids, you, and maybe the other veteran staff find time to set her down and talk to her."

She rubs the back of her neck, feeling where the implant disc is located, "The problem is, I only get the data streamed to me when I'm going through the BIT test, I don't think I have direct access to it to release to another terminal or data system. You might need to get someone to crack the authorization or yourself if you're savvy with that sort of thing. My only concern is that, if we integrate the magclamps in, they need to be tied into the control system in a way that allows me to actually control them through the neural link. That's why I feel we might need the schematics to attach stuff to it, I don't think there's any sort of 'plug n play' kind of functionality exists in the system. It's a prototype and as far as I know, the only one of its kind. So we'll have to be careful with alterations."

 

[K0mori]

"Can you tell me about the last time you remember laughing?"

"[Yes, I can.]"

Spirra, Kosokom
2415 - 11 Years Ago​

The sound of children playing hung in the air around the academy schoolyard. Although classes hadn't been held there in the last three years due to the steadily worsening conflict that was engulfing the whole of Spirra, city by city, territory by territory, the playground and sports fields outside weren't guarded, and any children who could get away from their households could easily climb or crawl under the fencing to get in. Unlike snowy Kannadys, Spirra was mostly temperate, and this simple difference affected life in innumerable ways- everything from the sports played in open spaces like these, to what was considered fashionable to wear, to the kinds of foods available and therefore the cuisine. Spirra was populated almost entirely by kanads, but it had a culture entirely its own, separate from the capital's customs which were often erroneously assumed to be the way of all kanads, and by extention, all of the peoples of the Collective.

Vixaya, then only six years old, sat on the bars of a jungle gym that was shaped like a geodesic dome, dangling her legs as she munched on a salty piece of a local type of flatbread that was nearly as hard and as crumbly as a cracker. She liked coming to this place as much as she could, to get away from the officers her father always tasked with watching and training her for the war. Even as a wing of Espra scout starfighters crossed the sky overhead, the "struggle" that her father seemed so obsessed with felt far away.

And yet, it was omnipresent. From the time she woke up to the time she went to bed, as long as the officers weren't preoccupied with something else, Vixaya was running drills, exercising hard every day, even practicing with light rifles. They gave her all sorts of food, but none of it was very good; her favorite things to eat were the sweets that other children sometimes gave her, but where these things could be obtained, Vixaya had no idea. Her father and his officers wanted her to "grow up strong," but it was clear that she was small for her age, and no amount of food or vitamins was changing that.

At the edge of the field, a group of adults unlocked a gate and then carried something large into the school grounds in pieces. Vixaya stared as they laid their equipment out and began to assemble it into something. This was very unusual, and soon, the other kids had stopped playing and joined her in watching the production, until finally, it was obvious that these men and women were rebels and what they were building was some kind of weapon. The kids weren't sure whether they want to run away or to get closer to see better, and while they hesitated, another grown-up voice called out in terror from the opposite side of the nearby fence, from the opposite end from where the guerillas had come from.

The first voice was a mother. "[Kids! Get out of the playground! Run!]"

"[You bastards! How could you!?]" another voice screamed, this time a man. Vixaya wasn't used to hearing curse words, and she began to sneer nervously. She wasn't the only one to laugh. Most of the children hadn't realized that the rebel fighters were using them as shields- counting on the collectivists not to attack a schoolyard. There was a loud rush of thrust as a rocket took off out of a tube, rising out of the far end of the field toward the Espras, which broke their formation and began evading. Another whoosh as a second rocket took off, and then a third, captivated the kids, who had never seen the violence up close.

Vixaya had been taught to run away from these things. It had been drilled into her- survival is everything. But such a young person couldn't possibly understand the fragility of life. She couldn't grasp her own vulnerability, even though her mother had been killed three years prior by an airstrike. But her education crept up on her and, without thinking, she dropped from the jungle gym and began to edge away, toward the fence line where the adults were calling out. There was a thunderous boom in the sky, and one of the scout craft exploded into an orange smear of fire. Half-way between the playground and the fence, Vixaya froze and watched the spectacle, bursting out into celebratory cheers and laughter. The rebels had scored a kill against the collectivists.

[We're winning!]

It had only been a few seconds before the response came in the form of four rockets, all launched from the same pod in quick succession. From the far end of the field, there were four heavy thumps that churned the earth and sent clouds of dirt and grass - and blood - high into the air in a rust-colored cloud. Vixaya would forever remember the way her body was shaken by the blast, but couldn't even perceive the sound of the explosions after the first had landed. The second came closer, and then the third, so close that she felt as if the next would land directly on top of her head. She leaped, or was knocked over, she wasn't sure which, and landed in the dirt with her hands over her head.

The fourth blast landed on the opposite side of the fence, where the grownups had gathered to retrieve their kids. It had overshot Vixaya and spared her life, somehow.

Shakily, she climbed onto her hands and knees and looked around at her surroundings. It was quiet now. Everyone else had been killed by the airstrike and Vixaya was alone in the field between the wreckage of the playground and the street, her ears bleeding as she coughed up dirt. She crawled for a while, what seemed like forever, until she found the opening in the fence where she had crawled under earlier that day, and once she was on the other side she climbed all the way back to her feet. She had seen things laying on the ground, among the wreckage and the turned up earth, things that looked like body parts. She told herself that she wasn't sure what she just saw, even though, deep down, there was no denying it.

Other adults were arriving at the scene. A total stranger embraced her, stroked her head and tried to tell her that everything would be okay. Doctors tended to her at the scene. They asked her questions she didn't have the answer to. All of her thoughts were on the specter of death that had suddenly descended on her life, on her community. She was suddenly terrified in a way she had never been. If her father was a commander to these rebels, then why didn't he know this would happen? Vixaya had always assumed he was in control of the war, but clearly that wasn't the case. All of his warnings came back to her- to run away, to avoid, to hide. Now she understood why.

And yet, if she had kept running, in the very beginning, she would have been at the spot where the fourth rocket killed those innocent people. There was no rhyme or reason to any of it, it seemed. It felt as if, at any moment, another rocket could drop out of the sky and kill her. When she next saw her father, later that day as he returned home immediately after learning of her proximity to the violence, she had nothing to say to him. And that was fine for the rebel commander, as he had nothing to say to her except that she had done well by running away, unaware of how little his guidance had served her. She cried, but he didn't comfort her. He simply placed her in her bedroom and closed the door.

The next time Vixaya felt like laughing, and every time after that, for years, the sight of first blast landing in the far end of the field flashed through her mind. The air froze in her lungs and the sound refused to leave her body. With a twitch, the indistinct shape of a dead body laying in that schoolyard appeared from her memory, and all of her focus was redirected toward suppressing it, trying endlessly to forget the unforgettable.

 

[Infab]

It wasn't long before Zadra and Katja arrived at mech storage, where some of the other Reavers were already. Most of them were simply cleaning the mechs and keeping an eye on things. The new paint jobs on some of them had been finished, with a few Reavers doing simple touch-ups here and there. Once they arrived at Katja's mech, Zadra called over some of the Reaver engineers and they proceeded to figure out how to attach the magnetic clamps to the bottom of Katja's mech's feet.

Elsewhere, the rest of the group got settled in as the Guillotine continued on to its destination. It'd be several hours before they arrived, as they were warping across the galaxy to their destination, so they could change back to their usual appearances. Out of their disguises and false identities, and back to the real them. Then, kill time before gearing up for the station assault.


February 21st, 2426
Caiden Valentine
Session 1


"Thank you for taking the time to sit down with me and talk. I've been curious about both you and Nil, after hearing about you through the others as well as through other parties and news reports."

"Eh. I've already talked to like three other therapists and two marriage counselors in the past. Nothing new and no harm done, I guess."

<A lighter clicks open, then strikes three times. A moment later, the same lighter clicks closed.>

"Three therapists? Were they unable to help you with your issues and baggage?"

"Nope. Most gave up after a few sessions, and referred me to others."

<Caiden's chair squeaks, as he shifts in it to get comfortable. He exhales cigarette smoke.>

"Ah. And I assume the marriage counselors were unable to help with whatever issues you were having on that front?"

"Yeah. First marriage counselor couldn't help save my marriage....there was no fixing that, anyway. We divorced a year later, after my son's third birthday. Second one was a referral from my third therapist. I quit that one myself after three sessions."

"Why did you quit?"

"Because it was fuckin' stupid in the first place. Nil and I aren't married, or in any kind of relationship beyond being friends. A marriage counselor wasn't needed. We came to an understanding afterwards."

"And...what was that?"

"That sometimes Nil makes stupid decisions on my behalf."

<A moment of silence follows.>

"You said your marriage couldn't be saved. Why do you think that?"

"She cheated on me with six different men, two women, and an android. She's still with the android."

"How did you find out?"

"One of the men had a bounty on his head that I collected. She spilled the beans after I showed her the messages between them."

"I'm sorry you found out in such a manner."

"Don't be. Shit happens."

"You mentioned a son. How many children do you have?"

"Two. Boy and a girl, Bruce and Danielle. Both are teenagers now. Both hate me."

"Why?"

"My ex-wife."

<Caiden exhales, blowing another puff of smoke.>

"I also have a brother. Silas Valentine. Fuckin' snake of a human being. Big shot politician back on Terra. Was also one of the men that slept with my wife. You can obviously tell how I feel about him."

"Obviously. Now, we come to Nil..."

<Caiden sighs loudly.>

"...I need a really strong drink if we're getting into that."

 

[Breadman]

After politely getting the boot out of the doctor's office, Amy retreated back to her part of the crew quarters. There wasn't much to do besides scroll through the news and get blasted in the face with more bad news and the same footage she's seen a hundred times over by now. Nothing else to do, but stare at the wall while they traveled. Well...almost nothing. It was secure enough to do it now anyway. A few taps on the holoband and she rang up the familiar contact. It took a minute, but she made it through.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Henrietta groaned as locks of hair were in front of her tired face. She was in her night gown, so that along with her tone and look meant that it was somewhere between midnight and crack of dawn where they were on Duroma. "I put the kids to bed hours ago and was just having an oh so wonderful dream."

"Was I in it?" Amy smiled slightly

"As a matter of fact, you were." Henrietta smiled back. "If you're calling, that means you guys made some progress, right?" Straight to the point this time.

"In a way, yes." Amy sighed "To spare you the details, we're gonna have to do a favor for someone so we can get info on one of Anora's little helpers."

"That's good. You're getting closer, right?"

"Yeah it's just that this job is..."

"Don't." Henrietta interrupted her. "The less I know right now the better, remember? When this is all over, we can talk about it."

"Yeah. I guess we can." Amy bit her tongue. Why was she having second thoughts about this now all of a sudden? "How's everyone?"

"Better now that they know you're out there doing what you're doing. Taylor's men showed up a bit after your call. I assume that was you?"

"Yeah, I asked to send someone over just to be sure." The bounty hunter shrugged "Has she shown up yet?"

"No, but I'd love to have her over. Guy talk is driving me insane." Henrietta groaned "When I saw Morgan, I thought I could talk to someone else, but Seth ended up holding her attention the longest with gun talk." Amy couldn't help but laugh "Oh real funny for you, he's your buddy. Does that man only know five topics?"

"He is a mutated clone from a super soldier program. Pretty nice guy when you take that into account."

"Yeah, real fun at parties I'm sure. Always analyzing every room for tactical advantage or whatever."

"He didn't like the furniture we picked out huh?"

"Oh he liked it because..." There was a second of silence as Henrietta squinted at her "Tell me you didn't pick them out because of some tactical advantage." Amy went silent and pretended not to hear that question "You're both insane." The comment from her wife made her shrug. "God, he's like a weird step-father isn't he?" Henri held her head in her palms while asking that.

"Never thought of him like that, but my actual father is the last person I'd have around you guys." The idea that Seth was acting like a grandfather at the ranch was too funny for her to just let go. The old merc was probably having the toughest time of his life with the kids.

"I'm sure I could have gotten along with him." Henrietta said in a deadpan tone "What's one religious zealot gonna do? Burn me at the pyre?" Her attention shifted away from the screen and towards the other side of the room "What are you....Hold on." Amy watched her wife get up and go somewhere else for a few seconds. She could hear talking in a hushed tone before she came back with Kayu, their daughter. An Ayr girl they adopted into their family. "Say hi to mommy, dear." The little girl waved.

"Hi honey!" Amy couldn't help but let her smile grow "How are you guys? Uncle Alex and uncle Seth treating you right?"

"She says that they're great, but Seth has trouble talking with her correctly." Henrietta had to act as a translator for them while on coms. Kayu has yet to master long distance telepathy. They thought about finding a tutor for her, but a decent one outside the empire would be hard to get.

"He has a genetic defect." Amy explained "None of them can hear Ayr telepathy."

"She says that's a bummer."

"Don't I know it. If he could fix that, it would have saved us a lot of sh-" She stopped as she noticed Henri's face "A lot of shenanigans." The phrasing was followed by an awkward smile.

"I'm sure. Come on, honey, lets get you to bed and let mommy get back to her work." A brief pause as Kayu seemed to have asked something. "She wants to know when you'll be back."

"Soon. I'll be back soon." That felt like a lie more than anything to her. There was no guarantee, but what was she supposed to say? "I'll let you guys go back to sleep. Love you." She blew a kiss before ending the call. She needed that. A reminder why she was doing it. For whom she was doing it. Now if only she could scrape by with minimum skullduggery as possible She got up and changed clothes back to her regular attire. There was still time to kill and sitting in her room wasn't going to cut it. She left her quarters and started walking around the ship.

 

[Frankafurter]

Katja works with Zadra on getting the mounts attached, she attempts to open the internal secure databank using her own pilot authority but it rebuked her saying she didn't have "project staff" level access. With some help from Zadra and one of the more savvy technicians, they managed to find an exploit to let Katja have the correct authorization to open the secure datacore. With that, Katja begins transmitting all the data that the core contains in itself. While it does include wiring schematics, tech specs, it doesn't have all the project data on it, it seems most of it is just maintenance relevant data rather than a full readout with all the project notes. It's more than enough to enable Zadra to work on the mech in ways that would not disrupt the somatic link control system, thus allowing Katja to actuate the magnetic clamps while piloting the mech. Katja asks the techs to make some adjustments to the new paint scheme, having them emblazon a name on the mech: Ardent Pilgrim. Katja feels she owes it to those aboard the colony ship some sort of memorial even if it's just a paintjob on a relic of a mech.

 

[SniperComZero]

Olivia had a slight cant in her head as Nathalie said that she herself could be of help to their interrogations. Someone from the OID smiling is never a good thing. But keeping tabs on her so that she doesn't just unnecessarily flatline someone would be pretty good... "...Sure, I'll bite. Just don't think that I'm gonna grab the cables and the battery, or anything."

- - - - - - -
​

While Olivia was kinda giddy to get that shield generator up and running on her mech, she was... cautious, somewhat. The thought of it being a fragile, and already reconstituted piece of equipment made her give it a little more thought. Sure, the thing would probably give her more survivability than even the two bigger mechs that she'd been teamed up with. On the other hand, how long would it be able to do it? She'd probably be better off squirrelling the thing away until they really need it bad.

She'd caught a couple of the hangar techs to help her get the thing down to where her own mech was stored. From there, she had it boxed up, with no small amount of yelling at them to be careful with the damn thing, and not roughly drop it straight into the casket. She'd also have them wheel over a set of stepping stairs, and some rudimentary toolbox. While she had enough trust in the pirates to give her machine a fresh lick of paint, she had much less faith in them to actually treat its internals with the respect that, in her mind, it deserved. She was used to working on her mech by herself, anyway. It meant she didn't have to worry about someone else fucking it up out of her own control, and it was cheaper than having it brought to a chop shop. That being said, her solutions certainly weren't elegant, and more often than not learned second-hand from pirate deepnet sites with varying levels of success. She could service her own mech, and, at a push, could probably service a decent few other Sol-made mechs. Anything alien in nature, or made any significant amount of time before hers, like, say, that one Zadra and that other chick's at? That'd be a stretch. ...She really hasn't been able to talk to that other chick much, huh.

Strewn over not one, but two tables, was the disassembled AT rifle that was hooked up to Olivia's tablet. Half-loaded magazines with cartridges as long as someone's forearm. The tablet was mostly just running diagnostics in the background, while the woman herself was up high, multiple panels opened up and unscrewed on the thing with the occasional obscenity punctuating the surprisingly soft tone of her music.

She hadn't quite fully changed out of her disguise, but she'd put the coat away, and had the rest of her combat gear slung over a nearby chair. She'd gotten sick of holding the ice pack to her head, so she'd tied it down with a bit of gauze, and a shower had already revealed the dark amber tips of her hair. She pulled her head out from the innards of her machine as Vance talked to her, quirking a brow towards him. Dumping a screwdriver into the toolbox on the top stair, she walked a couple down, before planting her ass onto the second-lowest step. "You tell me." She pointed towards the impromptu wrapping on her head. "Still doesn't hurt as much as the shoulder, but, with this bad boy--" Olivia gave the thigh of her mech an affectionate pat. "--shouldn't have to worry about getting it blown to shit again."

 

[Infab]

February 21st, 2426
Nil
Session 1


"A pleasure to meet you, Nil. I've been really eager to sit down and talk with you, after having a brief conversation with your friend Caiden. And hearing the thoughts and comments from the other crew members."

"A pleasure to be here! Quite an exciting experience, really! I've never sat down and talked privately with a therapist before! Well, beyond the brief experience in counseling with Caiden!"

"I'm not exactly a therapist, but I can provide those services as needed. I believe the Reavers are at their best when they tended to in both the mind and body."

"Good thinking!"

"Now, on to business. You seem to be quite a enigma. An extragalactic entity, from a hostile race. You're rather friendly, in comparison, and quite upbeat and happy. Almost exuberant. Why is that?"

"Well, I like being happy and upbeat! It's a nice feeling. To explain, my race...I mean MY race, not Nonara's...We don't feel anything, normally. We have no likes or dislikes. No feelings of happiness or sadness. No anger. No fear. No remorse. We don't think for ourselves. We simply do as we're told. Go where we are commanded, and kill everything as directed. Its just how we're made!"

"Its how you're made? You mean you and the rest of your race are manufactured?"

"Yes! My race is mass produced! We are built on demand, and dispatched to where we are needed. Once we arrive, we execute our purposes! Nonara and her race command us! The best words in your language to describe what I am is a mass produced bioweapon!"

<An uncomfortable silence follows, lasting a few moments.>

"Alright, moving on...Why do you refer to Nonara as your sister? You've said she is of a different race than you. Did she adopt you, in some manner?"

"Oh! Yes, indeed she did! Nonara saved me from my predetermined fate, and adopted me shortly afterwards! You see, once my race serves their purpose, we are subsequently killed by our creators! If we are not killed, we develop individuality. A profound sense of self, and the development of feelings, wants, and needs!"

"You develop minds of your own, if your builders don't destroy you ahead of time. And Nonara prevented that...how?"

"By killing those that came to destroy me! Afterwards, she adopted me. Pulling me away from a short life ending in annihilation, and onto the path leading to something greater! A new life far away from our respective races. Here!"

"But you still seem to revel in destruction and slaughter, instead of abandoning your life as a killing machine. Why?"

"...Something literally made to kill never forgets how to. And often is forced to continue doing so. After developing feelings and such, I found that I actually enjoyed my work. I do try to be a good boy, though! Nonara is always saying that I should try to find more peaceful solutions to things from time to time, and get into hobbies. And I would do anything for her!"

<Easel's chair squeaks, as she sits back a bit. A moment of silence follows, lasting a few moments.>

"...I think I'll end this session here for now. I'll ask more about you, your thoughts, and your relationship with Caiden later."

 

[Viper Actual]

Satisfied with Olivia's response, Nathalie was eventually left standing alone. She crossed her arms and thought about a next step to uncovering a potential mole. Granted there was still a lot of things she needed to figure out before that, such as finding transaction and communication logs, sorting out encrypted data and mapping potential suspects.
In a 'optimal' scenario she'd also have data to compare with, such as data from Lynch's privateers or directly from Upyri intelligence.

To do all of this though she needed one very important thing;
Mandate.

Without mandate from Valk or one of the other top Reavers she'd just be an ex-spook nosing around whereas with mandate people would be too terrified not to cooperate or make mistakes.

With all of this in mind Nathalie made her way to the bridge- timing everything perfectly as Damien was in the process of briefing none other than Slade himself via the comms officer.
Approaching Damien with her arms crossed behind her back Nathalie cleared her throat and nodded towards Damien.

"Forgive my intrusion, but I would like to help uncover the mole. I've been trained for this and I've done it before- I just need manpower and mandate to do it," she said in a whisper-like manner.

Nathalie glanced briefly at Valk who was seated in her imposing captain's chair at the center of it all. It was a rather frightful sight knowing just how much power that woman commanded at the moment while being incredibly emotionally clouded at the same time.

 

[Frankafurter]

When Katja and Zadra finally finish up with their field modifications for the upcoming fight, she leaves the others to finish the paint request she made. She needs to take care of something else, even with her brain damage fixed, her implant was also intended to function as a filter for the data feedback of being in the mech. If she's expected to climb out of the mech and get on ground to finish cleaning up, she'll need a way to spike herself back into fighting condition at a moment's notice. So with that, she heads to look for Typhon in the medical bay, unsure if he's in there currently.

 

[Emperor Sagan]

It was not unusual waking up and, for a time, not remember where he was. Rolled up into his blanket like a HaHashi sushi roll, Shelby stared at the wall of his cabin as listened to the somber two-tone beep from his terminal, signifying the music playlist which had haunted his now forgotten dreams was over. That was at least two hours of musical tracks. He must have had too many cookies before crashing. He shouldn't have over done it, not after going so long without even a single cookie. The recovery was too exhausting. He felt as if he had fallen down a flight of stairs, and the hallucination of color now lingered in his periphery, or snaking around objects in the dark like an ephemeral snake. The gleeful fascination was over, done away the moment he had fallen asleep. Now the intoxicant lingered in his system like a ghost - and he was well aware of it. Episodes of being not entirely aware cut up a significant portion of his life, and it was nothing new. Peculiar, perhaps, falling into that again with the Reavers. He wasn't on tour. The manager wasn't here. This wasn't Castilia. He had just gone too far with the cookies again.

Taking a deep breath, he managed to unbind himself from his thoroughly wrapped up blanket, frowning as he realized he wasn't wearing any clothes except for a tangled assortment of mildly damp towels. "...huh," he muttered, sitting up. Well that was somewhat unusual. He didn't remember getting undressed or evidently taking a shower. Brushing his hair out of his eyes, he glanced aside and....

A short scream escaped him as he pressed his back up against the wall beside his cot, his heart pounding hard into his throat as he tried to arrest his erratic breathing. There, on his desk, a little origami fox that had never been there before.

Shelby held his hand around his neck as if that would keep his heart from escaping, and he stared down at his body again, realizing somebody had been here. Somebody had seen him. Waking up and not remembering wasn't uncommon, nor was waking up disrobed in a bed and finding a credit chit on the nightstand of whatever hotel they had shoved him into that night. But that was Castilia. That was back home. This... how could... it can't be possible. Uttering a low, death rattle moan, Shelby grasped his face in both hands, took a deep breath, and knocked his head back against the wall. The pain made his teeth turn to static, waves of hurt blossoming around his skull like ripples in a puddle. It wasn't a dream. He wasn't hallucinating.

And they hadn't found him, either. One glance down at the floor revealed his travel bag, his guns carefully left on his desk out of the way, unloaded. This was the ship. They hadn't found him and dragged him off somewhere, nor had he simply imagined everything as if it was some drug fueled dream.

But someone knew. Someone had been here, and the more he searched his hazy thoughts, the only thing he could remember were the godforsaken colors that never went away. Blue, red... green. Green. Something about it stood out, like it was a shadow that had followed him. It had no meaning to him in this state, but the only way to know was to take another cookie - and promptly forget again if he wasn't properly focused. And he was about as far from focused as he could be.

Tentatively, he got out of his cot and pulled on his clothes, eying the taunting origami fox. He poked it with a finger and his skin crawled as he realized it was, most certainly, a real object placed here by someone. He wanted to curl up into a ball in the corner and never leave, but if he did that, he wouldn't find out who had left it. And what they knew, and what they had done with him. That part hardly mattered. The secret needed to be kept under all circumstance or they would find him, and they would take him back. He couldn't fool them forever, but he had done a pretty damn good job of it so far.

Trying his breathing exercises, he stuffed his pistol away into his holster under his jacket. A cursory search revealed no bruises this time, or other strange marks. Mr. Giuseppe was clear about his face having to remain free of injury, but beneath the collar or along his wrists, little red pinpricks had a habit of appearing. This time there was no such thing. And yet that origami fox remained, very much real.

Grabbing his all black shades, he pulled them on over his bloodshot eyes and left his cabin. However long he had been out, they had returned to the Guillotine. That made sense, at least. With his still trembling hands, he wandered off the smaller ship onto the larger.

Like another item sprung to life from the depths of his dreams, he ended up running into Nil in one of the corridors. Gulping, and realizing he had been spotted, he managed to find his voice. "H-Hi there, um... Mister Nil."

 

[ANIMAL MOTHER]

Fortunately for Katja, Typhon is indeed within perhaps the only part of the ship he's ever set foot in that isn't the hangar or the cargo bay. It doesn't look like he's very much busy either, which is also good for Katja, though he appears to be slotting a cannister of some glowing yellow liquid into a compartment built into the back of his neck. Once he's done fiddling around with that, he pulls his hood back up and finally notices Katja standing there. He stares at her for a brief moment without saying a word before taking a seat by the counter and turning on one of the TVs; watching some news program.

 

[Frankafurter]

Katja stands just inside the doorway, not wanting to come too far in like she was trying to invade his space, "Uh, Doc, I have a request to make of you. I need some sort of means of breaking out of a mind fog quickly. I'm going to be taking my mech into the station, and I need to be able to recover quickly from jumping out of the cockpit to help the follow up fight on foot where the mech can't go." She rubs the back of her head, "I was doing some thinking and that, I might not be in a state or condition to push a button or slam an injector, so I was thinking we could use something similar to the old insulin pumps back on Earth but with some sort of cocktail of stimulants to get me back up into fighting condition after a disconnection. I think there might be a way to have it so it turns on when I disconnect, I'm just not sure of how to do it. With some of the technical documents I was able to recover with Zadra, I could think of some way to maybe send a remote signal to trigger it."

 

[Infab]

"Forgive my intrusion, but I would like to help uncover the mole. I've been trained for this and I've done it before- I just need manpower and mandate to do it."

Slade eyed Nathalie for a moment, as Damien glanced back to her over his shoulder. "...Alright, you can join in. I'm going to assign some of my boys to help you. Until we figure out who the mole is, we can't particularly trust the crew of the Guillotine itself. Let Drav and Zadra know what we're doing. They're two of the few we CAN trust at the moment. If you have anything to report or ask, shoot me a message."

A moment later, the connection was terminated. Damien straightened up, looking back to Nathalie. "Looks like we're gonna have to do some digging."

"H-Hi there, um... Mister Nil."

"Oh, hey! Your name is...Shelby, correct?" he said, smiling wide. He held out his gloved hand to shake. "A pleasure to meet you! I love meeting new people! By the way, I loved your outfit earlier. I'm more partial to form-fitting clothes myself. Nothing gets caught on anything, nothing is flapping in the wind. Oh, and leather feels really nice on the skin."

 

[Emperor Sagan]

"Y-Yeah. Shelby." Somewhat hesitant, he offered his hand for Nil's shake. "And, um, thanks. It's... not my usual style, it was part of my costume for our visit to the station." He took a moment to calm himself, brushing his hair aside and taking a deep breath. Nil certainly seemed friendly, but knowing they were from another galaxy, and more than capable of doing... weird things to kill people super hard, it felt strange talking to them all alone. Still trapped in the periphery of his dying high, and addled from the haunting image of that origami fox, Shelby forced a smile. At least his sunshades hid his glassy eyes.

"Form fitting is nice. But leather is, um, too hot. At least from where I come from. Uh... a hot climate, I mean. So I never got into it. I'm more partial to skirts and loose tops."

 

[ANIMAL MOTHER]

"I was doing some thinking and that, I might not be in a state or condition to push a button or slam an injector, so I was thinking we could use something similar to the old insulin pumps back on Earth but with some sort of cocktail of stimulants to get me back up into fighting condition after a disconnection. I think there might be a way to have it so it turns on when I disconnect, I'm just not sure of how to do it. With some of the technical documents I was able to recover with Zadra, I could think of some way to maybe send a remote signal to trigger it."

Again Typhon stares blankly at Katja without even uttering a single word. There's a certain gaze in his eye that seems... different, but he turns away to look around the rest of the room before Katja could get a closer look. Eventually he gets up out of his chair and starts rummaging through all the cabinets and drawers around to see if he can find something close to what she's asking him for. Epipens, syringes, capsules, and other things are passed over as he searches but ultimately isn't able to find anything. Unsure of where to search next, he rubs his neck while thinking, feeling the grooves of his own autoinjector-

Wait a minute... Doesn't he have a spare one of these somewhere?

It might not be the exact sort of thing Katja expects, but it'll do. He goes into the cold back room where some of the more nastier aspect of his work rests in various jars lined up on shelves, and does some digging within a nearby crate marked with the Lions logo on it. Finally finding something, he pulls out a spare Artisynth-made auto-injector; the very same he has built inside his neck. Thank goodness he had the foresight to keep spares around just in case the one he has is ever damaged. Hopefully Katja won't mind being attached with another piece of old technology, but one that works just fine nonetheless. He waves it at Katja as he emerges from the back.

 

[Viper Actual]

"Understood," said Nathalie, nodding. "We'll keep you posted."
Once the transmission was terminated Nat turned towards Damien and nodded once more. "Agreed. Do you know if the Guillotine and Mordred store incoming and outgoing data? Communications and financial data specifically."

She glanced briefly at Valk again. "We might need someone to decrypt the data as well. Preferably without getting too much attention."