Corrosion
ur lite fades awey
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Fantasy Far Passage
- Thread starter Corrosion
- Start date
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Corrosion
ur lite fades awey
CNECV Far Passage
Translight Transit En Route to Exoplanet Designated Huygens-381d
April 15, 2219
The colony vessel Far Passage of the Consolidated Nations of Earth cruised through the universe a hundred times the speed of light, surrounded in a subspace field with its Torsion Drive. The massive vessel over a kilometre in length was the newest in the Horizon-class of colony ships, great vessels constructed by the CNE to take humanity to new worlds that would take generations to reach within the span of only a few weeks. It had only been commissioned three weeks prior to the official launch of the mission to colonise a distant star, which was also to be its maiden voyage, and the journey of a lifetime for its complement of 2500 colonists, all of whom were now slumbering within their cryopods.
For over seventy years humanity had been expanding across the stars, colonising world after world in its fledgling interstellar empire, fueled by the endless drive for conquest and the hope for a better tomorrow after having been bound to Earth for thousands of years, eager the solve the overpopulation crisis that had plagued humanity's homeworld for the past century.
The Far Passage was now on its way to set up humanity’s latest colony on the world of Huygens-381d, which of course was simply the designation for the planet as were all others discovered by the Huygens Telescope Array two decades prior. A decision was to be made upon the completion of the colony's Administration to officially name the planet. Most often it would be a vote by the colonists, and oftentimes it would be named something poetic, meaningful, or after a major historical figure or location, or even one of the colonists or crew themselves.
Probes dispatched to the exoplanet months prior had found it to have a breathable atmosphere, and extremely resource rich, which was why the Far Passage was loaded with equipment to establish a mining-focused colony. In fact, it packed some of the latest and most advanced mining lasers to ever exist, which were capable of cutting through even the toughest of surfaces to get into the precious minerals within.
However, alien fauna had also been discovered native to the planet, and since it had a rather hostile environment, many of the creatures had evolved to be predatory. As a precaution, the ship also carried within it a complement of Corvus Security Corporation personnel to act as defence.
The ship had begun its maiden voyage twelve weeks prior, and now it still had two more weeks to go. With this long a journey, the vast majority of its crew and the colonists within were kept in cryostasis in order to preserve their lifespans and to shorten the journey from their point of view. Only a skeleton crew had been left awake who operated in shifts, most of them maintenance personnel.
Perhaps one of the most important members of the vessel's crew wasn't human at all, but a manmade construct. The Far Passage’s artificial intelligence program, the Colonial Intelligent Director, or simply CID for short, was the one responsible for overlooking the ship during the journey, along with the lives of all those within it. As an A.I., it had no emotions, and as such, hardly minded such a long journey, and was more than content with fourteen weeks of diligently watching over the sleeping colonists. Every single ship within the Horizons Initiative had a copy of CID. After all, humans were far more likely to make mistakes than a light-based quantum intelligence who could process data at 526 zettaflops.
Twelve weeks had passed completely uneventfully, and it would be two weeks more until the ship had reached its destination, and CID would begin to awaken the colonists and crew to begin the next step of their journey.
Captain Jacques Wavell sat in his command chair within the bridge of the Far Passage, a steaming mug of freshly-brewed coffee in hand. He was the captain of the ship, and as such the responsibility of the crew, colonists, and the general wellbeing of the vessel itself. He had been only been awakened a half hour ago, as was standard procedure for all captains of the Horizon-class ships. On the first day of every week according to the Earth calendar that was built into the ship's database, he'd be woken from cryosleep to oversee the vessel's operations for the day, before he returned to his pod to go back to sleep.
Perhaps it wasn't necessary since CID was already making sure everything was going according to plan, but procedure was procedure. Besides, a human could always notice things machines couldn't. They could make judgements and choices not based on calculations and statistics but on gut instinct.
He scratched his chin, feeling the rather scruffy beard he had grown. It'd only grown longer during his hours awake. He'd be sure to trim it when they arrived at their destination, so that he'd look much tidier during the official landing speech.
The captain took a sip from his mug, feeling the warm liquid coat his tongue and its bitterness to wash over his tastebuds. He glanced over the bridge, which was very empty. The stations where the bridge crew normally sat were empty and void of any life. The screens were on, of course, displaying information about the ship and its trajectory.
Wavell sighed, tapping the rest of his seat with a finger, and checked the time. He still had eight hours to go.
"CID," he spoke, seemingly to the empty bridge. "Status?"
"Checking," an upbeat but monotonous male voice answered him. "Primary reactor: online. Auxiliary reactors: online. Thrusters: online. Life support: online. Artificial gravity: online. Communications: online. Sensors: online. Torsion Drive: online. All systems nominal."
Wavell nodded. "Thanks, CID."
It was the same thing Wavell had been told the previous ten times. The Horizon ships were built to last, beefy vessels meant to conduct thousands of trips during their service lives. The Far Passage was brand new, too, so the captain had no doubts that everything was running smoothly.
Sometimes he cursed the regulations.
But hey, who was he to complain? He was one of the lucky few to receive a posting on one of these vessels, as its captain, no less. A posting on a Horizon-class came with plenty of benefits, and the pay was more than adequate, too. He'd spent years commanding CNE Navy vessels, combating pirates at the far reaches of humanity's fledgling empire, and while he had a healthy amount of experience, this wasn't exactly something he expected.
Placing his mug down after another sip, he pulled out his smartpad, a device quite akin to the tablets of the 21st century, but paper-thin. He had several dozen books downloaded, and there was an entire library's worth in the ship's intranet. Switching it on, he opened a half-finished book, a piece of fiction titled Flame Crest: Awakened that told of an amnesiac tactician and his adventurers with a group known simply as the Herders and their quest to save the world from a dragon god in order to prevent a dark future or something like that, which also contained a fair bit of sappy romance.
It wasn't exactly the type of thing he'd read on his own, but his nephew had practically begged him to check it out, and he'd obliged if only to shut him up. He didn't have anything better to do, anyway, and not like anyone could stop him. He turned to the page he had last stopped on, now continuing to read about a battle between the heroes and a mad king and his army.
With any luck he'd be able to get through the entire book by the end of his shift and pick up another on the next.
Translight Transit En Route to Exoplanet Designated Huygens-381d
April 15, 2219
The colony vessel Far Passage of the Consolidated Nations of Earth cruised through the universe a hundred times the speed of light, surrounded in a subspace field with its Torsion Drive. The massive vessel over a kilometre in length was the newest in the Horizon-class of colony ships, great vessels constructed by the CNE to take humanity to new worlds that would take generations to reach within the span of only a few weeks. It had only been commissioned three weeks prior to the official launch of the mission to colonise a distant star, which was also to be its maiden voyage, and the journey of a lifetime for its complement of 2500 colonists, all of whom were now slumbering within their cryopods.
For over seventy years humanity had been expanding across the stars, colonising world after world in its fledgling interstellar empire, fueled by the endless drive for conquest and the hope for a better tomorrow after having been bound to Earth for thousands of years, eager the solve the overpopulation crisis that had plagued humanity's homeworld for the past century.
The Far Passage was now on its way to set up humanity’s latest colony on the world of Huygens-381d, which of course was simply the designation for the planet as were all others discovered by the Huygens Telescope Array two decades prior. A decision was to be made upon the completion of the colony's Administration to officially name the planet. Most often it would be a vote by the colonists, and oftentimes it would be named something poetic, meaningful, or after a major historical figure or location, or even one of the colonists or crew themselves.
Probes dispatched to the exoplanet months prior had found it to have a breathable atmosphere, and extremely resource rich, which was why the Far Passage was loaded with equipment to establish a mining-focused colony. In fact, it packed some of the latest and most advanced mining lasers to ever exist, which were capable of cutting through even the toughest of surfaces to get into the precious minerals within.
However, alien fauna had also been discovered native to the planet, and since it had a rather hostile environment, many of the creatures had evolved to be predatory. As a precaution, the ship also carried within it a complement of Corvus Security Corporation personnel to act as defence.
The ship had begun its maiden voyage twelve weeks prior, and now it still had two more weeks to go. With this long a journey, the vast majority of its crew and the colonists within were kept in cryostasis in order to preserve their lifespans and to shorten the journey from their point of view. Only a skeleton crew had been left awake who operated in shifts, most of them maintenance personnel.
Perhaps one of the most important members of the vessel's crew wasn't human at all, but a manmade construct. The Far Passage’s artificial intelligence program, the Colonial Intelligent Director, or simply CID for short, was the one responsible for overlooking the ship during the journey, along with the lives of all those within it. As an A.I., it had no emotions, and as such, hardly minded such a long journey, and was more than content with fourteen weeks of diligently watching over the sleeping colonists. Every single ship within the Horizons Initiative had a copy of CID. After all, humans were far more likely to make mistakes than a light-based quantum intelligence who could process data at 526 zettaflops.
Twelve weeks had passed completely uneventfully, and it would be two weeks more until the ship had reached its destination, and CID would begin to awaken the colonists and crew to begin the next step of their journey.
Captain Jacques Wavell sat in his command chair within the bridge of the Far Passage, a steaming mug of freshly-brewed coffee in hand. He was the captain of the ship, and as such the responsibility of the crew, colonists, and the general wellbeing of the vessel itself. He had been only been awakened a half hour ago, as was standard procedure for all captains of the Horizon-class ships. On the first day of every week according to the Earth calendar that was built into the ship's database, he'd be woken from cryosleep to oversee the vessel's operations for the day, before he returned to his pod to go back to sleep.
Perhaps it wasn't necessary since CID was already making sure everything was going according to plan, but procedure was procedure. Besides, a human could always notice things machines couldn't. They could make judgements and choices not based on calculations and statistics but on gut instinct.
He scratched his chin, feeling the rather scruffy beard he had grown. It'd only grown longer during his hours awake. He'd be sure to trim it when they arrived at their destination, so that he'd look much tidier during the official landing speech.
The captain took a sip from his mug, feeling the warm liquid coat his tongue and its bitterness to wash over his tastebuds. He glanced over the bridge, which was very empty. The stations where the bridge crew normally sat were empty and void of any life. The screens were on, of course, displaying information about the ship and its trajectory.
Wavell sighed, tapping the rest of his seat with a finger, and checked the time. He still had eight hours to go.
"CID," he spoke, seemingly to the empty bridge. "Status?"
"Checking," an upbeat but monotonous male voice answered him. "Primary reactor: online. Auxiliary reactors: online. Thrusters: online. Life support: online. Artificial gravity: online. Communications: online. Sensors: online. Torsion Drive: online. All systems nominal."
Wavell nodded. "Thanks, CID."
It was the same thing Wavell had been told the previous ten times. The Horizon ships were built to last, beefy vessels meant to conduct thousands of trips during their service lives. The Far Passage was brand new, too, so the captain had no doubts that everything was running smoothly.
Sometimes he cursed the regulations.
But hey, who was he to complain? He was one of the lucky few to receive a posting on one of these vessels, as its captain, no less. A posting on a Horizon-class came with plenty of benefits, and the pay was more than adequate, too. He'd spent years commanding CNE Navy vessels, combating pirates at the far reaches of humanity's fledgling empire, and while he had a healthy amount of experience, this wasn't exactly something he expected.
Placing his mug down after another sip, he pulled out his smartpad, a device quite akin to the tablets of the 21st century, but paper-thin. He had several dozen books downloaded, and there was an entire library's worth in the ship's intranet. Switching it on, he opened a half-finished book, a piece of fiction titled Flame Crest: Awakened that told of an amnesiac tactician and his adventurers with a group known simply as the Herders and their quest to save the world from a dragon god in order to prevent a dark future or something like that, which also contained a fair bit of sappy romance.
It wasn't exactly the type of thing he'd read on his own, but his nephew had practically begged him to check it out, and he'd obliged if only to shut him up. He didn't have anything better to do, anyway, and not like anyone could stop him. He turned to the page he had last stopped on, now continuing to read about a battle between the heroes and a mad king and his army.
With any luck he'd be able to get through the entire book by the end of his shift and pick up another on the next.
VermilionBird
Of the South
The Kingdom of Valone
Ashwin County, south of the Rontola Mountains
Early winter, Year 830 AS
Ashwin County, south of the Rontola Mountains
Early winter, Year 830 AS
Eran pulled his cloak more tightly around his shoulders, closing his eyes against an icy gust of wind that seemed to pierce right through his clothes. Not for the first time, part of him wanted to curse this foreign country, but the rest of him knew he should just be grateful that it wasn't raining. There had been the threat of it overhead before the sun went down, the horizon dense with dark clouds and a familiar chill in the air.
He stood in an empty field with five others from his cabal. The nearest settlement was miles away, and the forest's sheltering boughs farther still. If the sky chose to open up now, they had nowhere to hide from the rain.
This cheery thought settled in his mind as Shura circled between them, checking on their final preparations. Under her instruction, they had scattered vials of Amistra's Tears across the ground, the crystal dust forming a circle some ten feet across, with rows of runes written inside the ring. The process had taken longer than they thought it would, partly because of the wind, and partly because of the low light. Shura had allowed only a single torch to share, wary of unnecessary attention. After weeks of planning to reach this point, it would be a shame if all were ruined because meddlesome eyes happened to spot a group of Menegresti "travelers" behaving suspiciously in the dead of night.
Next time, maybe they could hold their summoning ritual indoors.
Shura's head bobbed in an approving nod. "Alright. We're ready."
"Finally," grumbled Hovik to Eran's left.
If Shura heard the remark, she ignored it. Instead, she retrieved a jeweled dagger from her waist. Eran and the others followed suit, the sound of sliding steel a gentle whisper in the darkness. The six of them arranged themselves at equal points around the ritual circle.
Shura caught each of their gazes. "Remember the plan. Once the demon is through the portal, all of you are to teleport to your assigned locations. I will lure the beast towards Stillholm, then escape myself. We regroup in Valgrad and await our next instructions from the High Spellmaster."
Hopefully, those instructions would be 'good work, go home', but Eran knew the chances of that were slim. A demon running berserk through the Valonian countryside would throw the kingdom into a state of chaos. Borders would tighten, inquiries made, blame thrown around. Menegrest would again make the firm suggestion that young Prince Merrick was unfit to rule if he couldn't keep rogue mages in his own country under control. The High Spellmaster would probably have them summon again to keep up the ruse. Eran would be lucky to return home by spring.
It was something to look forward to, at least. For now, he put attention back to their task. Holding out his hand, Eran made a swift, clean cut across his palm. Blood welled quickly, the liquid warm against his frozen fingers as he let it drip down and onto the scattered crystal dust.
The others mirrored his actions. Shura began to chant, and their voices joined hers. The ritual circle and its runes glowed white. The light shifted to yellow, then orange, and deepened further to red. Their shadows stretched long across the surrounding field.
Eran shuddered as his mana poured forth. This spell demanded so much more than any other he'd worked in his ten long years with the cabal. The others were struggling, too. Hovik swayed on his feet as if drunk, and to his right, Ailis made a quiet whimpering noise. Eran would have comforted her, but his lips were still busy chanting.
Still busy chanting, still feeding the ritual with his own life. But still it hungered, still it took, and still-
Wasn't this enough yet?
Something in him felt thin and brittle, fragile as sheets of frosted dew on early morning grass. The slightest bit of outside pressure, and he would become undone. It was dangerous to keep going; Eran didn't have much more mana to give. Once it was all gone, he would be gone, too.
Shura stopped chanting, evidently having reached the same conclusion. The others gasped to a halt as well.
"What-? Why's it-?" Ricard hunched, trembling. His dagger dropped to the ground, and he clutched at his chest with both hands. "I can't stop-"
Neither could Eran. His mana was still flooding out of him, still draining.
"This is bad," Shura muttered, voice strained.
Those were not words he wanted to hear from their leader. To her credit, Shura remained the most upright of any of them. Her bleeding hand was held aloft, fingers stiff with effort as she tried to shatter the ritual. The air rumbled. An odd sort of gravity pressed down on the area, spell and spellcaster struggling for dominance.
The light beneath their feet went deep purple, almost black. As black as the heavens above them.
Eran heard a faint shattering noise, as if echoing from a faraway place. He looked at his hands. His fingers crumbled, skin and flesh flaking and rolling into the wind, like parchment tossed to the fire. It was at his wrists before he could blink, and to his elbows when he lifted his head to see his companions undergoing the same fate.
'Damn,' he thought. Darkness crowned at the edges of his vision. 'I wanted to go home.'
Eran sank into oblivion.
------
It was as if no one had stood in that field at all.
Then power erupted through the area, roaring thunder without the noise, a pure blast of concussive force. Clouds of dust rolled outward, grass fluttering in a wild dance. A column of dark light shot out of the ground as if a lance hurled by the earth itself, punching straight up and leaving a perfect ring of cloudless sky in its wake.
When the dust settled, the ritual circle and its runes were gone. But a curious sigil remained in its place, its shape scorched white in the ground.
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Corrosion
ur lite fades awey
Wavell was now an hour and a half into his shift, and he had now finished two-thirds of his book, along with his of his mug of coffee. His mug was temperature-controlled, so he didn't have to worry about the beverage getting disgustingly cold. He tugged at his collar, trying to get a little more comfortable. He was dressed in captain's attire, a pristine white and immaculate dress uniform with gold highlights and rank boards on both shoulders, along with a cap bearing the emblem of the Far Passage. It was rather simple, really, depicting the ship and the end of a tunnel behind it, along with the year of its commissioning.
He would've preferred to wear his far more comfortable operational uniform as he usually did when commanding naval vessels (his then-crew already had plenty of time to get accustomed to him), but here on the Far Passage he had an image to maintain, to be someone who earned his rightful place as the captain of the ship and as someone the crew could look up to. Besides, it was regulation.
The higher-ups in the Horizons Initiative really loved their regulations.
He checked the time, and saw that an hour had passed since he stepped into the empty bridge. He put his smartpad away and raised the mug to his lips to finish the rest of his drink. Every hour on his shift he would leave the bridge and make a round or two around the ship, checking on the crew in person and to confirm everything was in working order. More than that, it also helped to establish a personable relationship with the crew. After all, no crewmember particularly liked a high-and-mighty captain who remained in his figurative castle in the bridge or his personal quarters. That much he knew during his days in the Navy.
Placing his empty mug down, he rose, getting to his feet and stretching, cracking his neck. He turned to look out the central viewscreens of the bridge, watching as bright streaks of light passed by the ship as it cruised through the bubble of relative space that surrounded the vessel, allowing it to reach superluminal speeds without having to worry about the effects of time dilation. It was a beautiful sight, really, and one could easily get mesmerised to a near-hypnotic degree just watching the sight outside.
Wavell hadn't even taken a single step when the ship suddenly began to shake violently. The captain was nearly thrown off his feet, and would have crashed to the ground rather painfully if he hadn't grabbed the rest of his chair at the last second. Through the haze of red warning lights and alarms that had gone off within the bridge, and most likely the rest of the ship, too, Wavell stood, regaining his balance.
"CID!" He spoke, glancing at the lit screens around him, which were all going absolutely haywire. "What the hell is going on?!"
“Alert: unknown error. Warning: error detected in Torsion Drive," CID replied, tone as upbeat as ever.
"Emergency shutdown, now!"
"Affirmative. Initiating emergency shutdown. Exiting translight in T-minus five... four... three... two..."
The Far Passage continued to shake violently, and outside, the tunnel of light vanished as the view was replaced by the inky blackness of realspace.
The red of the warning lights returned to the calm artificial light that lit much of the ship’s interior.
“Running diagnostics. Primary reactor: online. Auxiliary reactors: online. Thrusters: online. Life support: online. Artificial gravity: online. Communications: online. Sensors: online. Alert: Torsion Drive offline. Unknown error. Recommend maintenance dispatch immediately.”
Wavell exhaled in relief, slumping back into his chair. The critical systems of the ship were still functional, which was a good thing. One of the worst case scenarios aboard a colony vessel such as this was for the life support systems to fail, dooming everyone to a slow death via suffocation. Though at least those in cryo probably wouldn't notice a thing. The ones awake would.
"Thaw the rest of the bridge crew and dispatch a maintenance team to the Torsion Drive, CID," said Wavell. "Find out what's going on. With any luck, this will just be a minor malfunction that'll be fixed within the hour."
While it was practically unheard of for a Torsion Drive to malfunction, especially the new Mark VII the Far Passage was equipped with, it was a very real possibility. A possibility, it seemed, had just become a reality.
Wavell dabbed some bits of sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. Sure, it was a little old fashioned, but it was a longtime tradition. He glanced around the bridge and saw that the screens had gone back to reporting the ship's status, and he looked up to bring up his own command screen to gauge the possible fault with the Torsion Drive.
Then he finally noticed the sight outside the viewscreens, right before the ship. His eyes widened, and he got to his feet, only being able to utter in sheer amazement and shock.
"My god."
Before the Far Passage only several thousand kilometres away was a planet, a terrestrial and Earth-like green and blue jewel of forested continents and oceans and white clouds slowly moving through the atmosphere. The ship had been brought out of translight right above a garden world, the chances of which were so utterly small that Wavell hadn't even thought it possible in the first place.
This was well outside mission parameters.
Taking a breath, the captain turned to his seat and brought up a holographic screen. "CID, move the ship into medium orbit around the planet, altitude 2,500 kilometres. I want a full scan of the planet," he ordered. "Call an emergency meeting with Forrester, Vaughn, and Fernsworth. Prep the PACC and its associated staff, we'll have it there."
He paused for a moment. "And awaken the Pathfinders. We need them planetside ASAP."
With that, he turned and made for the door, and behind him, the planet only got closer as the Far Passage moved into position.
He would've preferred to wear his far more comfortable operational uniform as he usually did when commanding naval vessels (his then-crew already had plenty of time to get accustomed to him), but here on the Far Passage he had an image to maintain, to be someone who earned his rightful place as the captain of the ship and as someone the crew could look up to. Besides, it was regulation.
The higher-ups in the Horizons Initiative really loved their regulations.
He checked the time, and saw that an hour had passed since he stepped into the empty bridge. He put his smartpad away and raised the mug to his lips to finish the rest of his drink. Every hour on his shift he would leave the bridge and make a round or two around the ship, checking on the crew in person and to confirm everything was in working order. More than that, it also helped to establish a personable relationship with the crew. After all, no crewmember particularly liked a high-and-mighty captain who remained in his figurative castle in the bridge or his personal quarters. That much he knew during his days in the Navy.
Placing his empty mug down, he rose, getting to his feet and stretching, cracking his neck. He turned to look out the central viewscreens of the bridge, watching as bright streaks of light passed by the ship as it cruised through the bubble of relative space that surrounded the vessel, allowing it to reach superluminal speeds without having to worry about the effects of time dilation. It was a beautiful sight, really, and one could easily get mesmerised to a near-hypnotic degree just watching the sight outside.
Wavell hadn't even taken a single step when the ship suddenly began to shake violently. The captain was nearly thrown off his feet, and would have crashed to the ground rather painfully if he hadn't grabbed the rest of his chair at the last second. Through the haze of red warning lights and alarms that had gone off within the bridge, and most likely the rest of the ship, too, Wavell stood, regaining his balance.
"CID!" He spoke, glancing at the lit screens around him, which were all going absolutely haywire. "What the hell is going on?!"
“Alert: unknown error. Warning: error detected in Torsion Drive," CID replied, tone as upbeat as ever.
"Emergency shutdown, now!"
"Affirmative. Initiating emergency shutdown. Exiting translight in T-minus five... four... three... two..."
The Far Passage continued to shake violently, and outside, the tunnel of light vanished as the view was replaced by the inky blackness of realspace.
The red of the warning lights returned to the calm artificial light that lit much of the ship’s interior.
“Running diagnostics. Primary reactor: online. Auxiliary reactors: online. Thrusters: online. Life support: online. Artificial gravity: online. Communications: online. Sensors: online. Alert: Torsion Drive offline. Unknown error. Recommend maintenance dispatch immediately.”
Wavell exhaled in relief, slumping back into his chair. The critical systems of the ship were still functional, which was a good thing. One of the worst case scenarios aboard a colony vessel such as this was for the life support systems to fail, dooming everyone to a slow death via suffocation. Though at least those in cryo probably wouldn't notice a thing. The ones awake would.
"Thaw the rest of the bridge crew and dispatch a maintenance team to the Torsion Drive, CID," said Wavell. "Find out what's going on. With any luck, this will just be a minor malfunction that'll be fixed within the hour."
While it was practically unheard of for a Torsion Drive to malfunction, especially the new Mark VII the Far Passage was equipped with, it was a very real possibility. A possibility, it seemed, had just become a reality.
Wavell dabbed some bits of sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. Sure, it was a little old fashioned, but it was a longtime tradition. He glanced around the bridge and saw that the screens had gone back to reporting the ship's status, and he looked up to bring up his own command screen to gauge the possible fault with the Torsion Drive.
Then he finally noticed the sight outside the viewscreens, right before the ship. His eyes widened, and he got to his feet, only being able to utter in sheer amazement and shock.
"My god."
Before the Far Passage only several thousand kilometres away was a planet, a terrestrial and Earth-like green and blue jewel of forested continents and oceans and white clouds slowly moving through the atmosphere. The ship had been brought out of translight right above a garden world, the chances of which were so utterly small that Wavell hadn't even thought it possible in the first place.
This was well outside mission parameters.
Taking a breath, the captain turned to his seat and brought up a holographic screen. "CID, move the ship into medium orbit around the planet, altitude 2,500 kilometres. I want a full scan of the planet," he ordered. "Call an emergency meeting with Forrester, Vaughn, and Fernsworth. Prep the PACC and its associated staff, we'll have it there."
He paused for a moment. "And awaken the Pathfinders. We need them planetside ASAP."
With that, he turned and made for the door, and behind him, the planet only got closer as the Far Passage moved into position.
VermilionBird
Of the South
Sat in her office, quill motionless in her hands, Emmalie stared through the window and longed.
The morning was lovely, bright and blue despite the coming winter. The Verdant Order's barracks in Ashwin were right beside the marketplace; delectable smells from food vendors had the unfortunate habit of drifting up to her office, and the din of merchants' calls and their customers' answering cries were not far behind.
Emmalie would have loved to be outside, but a damning pile of paperwork stared back at her from her desk. There had been a training accident the other day. Some recruits had gotten rowdy, as headstrong young soldiers were wont to do, and the wrong end of a sword landed on someone's foot. She'd already reprimanded the ones involved, but was now compiling a report to send back to the knight-commander, as well. After that, she would pen a stern reminder to the instructors to drill the importance of discipline into their knights-hopeful.
Times such as these, she regretted rising as far as Knight-Captain, and thus trading her patrol routes for a seat behind a desk. She once thought guard duty at the gates boring, but a somewhat older and wiser Emmalie now longed for the simple pleasure of sunlight on her shoulders, mingling with the citizenfolk, and generally ensuring the peace of the kingdom with her own two hands. It was so much harder to appreciate the impact of her work when shut away indoors.
A knocking sound interrupted her silent complaints. Emmalie's attention moved away from the window and onto Sorrick, who had just stepped into her office. A fellow knight of the Verdant Order, his armor was the same pale green color as hers, though where his pauldrons and cuirass were blank, upon Emmalie's were etched the image of curling vines dotted with small flowers.
She greeted him with a smile, but the corners of her lips fell at the expression on his face. She had not seen Sorrick this grave since King Rauph's passing.
"What is it?" she said.
"There's been an incident," Sorrick replied. At the look she gave him -- his statement couldn't be more vague -- Sorrick added, "You'd best come see for yourself. I'll give you the details on the way."
Still concerned, but now also greatly confused, Emmalie stood from her chair. She retrieved Eliz from its resting place by the wall, secured the greatsword to her back, and followed Sorrick out.
They went to the aviary and took wing on their borrowed eagles. Yesterday, the sky seemed a portent of rain, but this morning it was gentle, the clouds soft and delicate against a backdrop of blue. The frost-tipped peaks of the Rontola Mountains loomed in the north. As the forests around Ashwin quickly fell away to rolling fields, Sorrick explained.
A Cloud Guard scout had been on patrol west of Stillholm when he spotted something strange below. Local guards were assembled to investigate, and they quickly asked for support from an Order mage. Dain had responded to their request. Whatever it was she'd found at the scene, she thought it important for Emmalie to see in person rather than hear by message.
They arrived quickly. As they landed, Emmalie looked to the soldiers standing watch at the edges of the empty field, a deterrent for curious passers-by staring from the road. Worry pooled in her stomach as she dismounted.
Dain was crouched, several analytical instruments arranged around her, their crystal components lit and humming. Her uniform was similar to the knights of the Order, though of a darker green, and her armor only leather and cloth. A grimoire sat snug in the holster at her hip. As Emmalie and Sorrick approached, Dain looked up and gave a little wave.
"Good day, Knight-Captain Brakwell. I see Sorrick took my recommendation to heart and helped you escape from your desk."
Emmalie fought down a smile. Instead she glanced at the odd shape spilling across the ground by Dain's feet. Ivory white and deceptively simple-looking, it appeared to be a rune or sigil, though it didn't resemble any of the ones she'd studied at the Knights' Academy.
"Skip the pleasantries, please, Dain. What's going on? What is that?"
"Right. This," Dain gestured, "is what's left of someone's summoning ritual. Multiple someones, well-planned and prepared for. I analyzed the residual energies and -- I'm sorry to admit -- its construction is unfamiliar to me. But I can say for certain that it's not College magic."
"Not one of ours." Sorrick's eyes darkened. "Menegresti, then?"
Of course he would suspect Menegrest. Valone had been on bad terms with their eastern neighbor ever since Queen Lusine's assassination five years ago. King Rauph's death six months ago only marked new heights in the two nations' state of tension.
Worse yet, Prince Merrick had yet to formally accept his father's crown. It was tradition for Valone's allies to endorse the new monarch; Lindelwin gave their condolences and congratulations within a week of the royal funeral, but Menegrest had sent only barbed criticisms since then. Prince Merrick's advisors strongly urged him to move forward with the crowning ceremony anyway, but their kind-hearted prince insisted on trying to win over the Menegresti first.
Dain smiled faintly at Sorrick's suggestion. "There's a possibility. The execution resembles Menegresti spellwork, but the foundational structure of the ritual is something else."
"Could their mages have researched a new kind of spell array?" asked Emmalie.
"I can't say for certain." Dain's smile disappeared. "And our diplomatic relations with Menegrest being what it is, I'm reluctant to start pointing fingers in their direction without more solid proof."
"Alright. So we don't know who cast the ritual. What was summoned?"
Dain hesitated. Emmalie's worry redoubled. Dain was not normally given to hesitation.
"I'm not sure," Dain finally said. "Whatever passed through doesn't match any known signatures in our records."
Sorrick tilted his head like a confused hound. "What do you mean?"
"I mean what I said. The signature isn't person, beast, or demon. I'm not certain it even belongs to anything alive. All I can tell you is that our mysterious entity is very large."
"Large as in... dragon size?"
"Oh, no." Dain's smile was back as she shook her head at Emmalie. "Much larger. Greater than Castle Valgrad! Maybe even twice that."
"What? Hold a moment." Emmalie held out her hand, brow wrinkled. "No summoning ritual in written history has ever approached that magnitude. And even if one were to take place, it would have required a monumental amount of mana. More than a dozen mages could provide. On top of that, if something that size was summoned, then where is it?"
"All very good points, Knight-Captain."
Emmalie stared at her grinning colleague. "Dain. How many bottles of Beld's spit have you had?"
"Today? None. Look, I know it sounds impossible-"
"Sounds impossible?" Emmalie's voice rose despite herself. "It is impossible! You're telling me something bigger than a castle came through the Rift, but not only are its summoners and whereabouts both unknown, the only evidence we have of its existence is this sigil."
"In essence, yes. But take heart." Dain raised a knowing finger. "Something that large can't conceal itself for long; that much is impossible. If we mobilize the Cloud Guard and have them sweep the kingdom, they should find our trespasser in due course, wherever it's hiding."
Another report, then. It always rounded back to paperwork. Emmalie resisted the urge to run her hand down her face.
"I can't believe this... Very well. Sorrick, go inform Sky Captain Drystan. Have him bear word to His Highness, as well."
"Yes, ma'am."
As she watched her knight jog back through the grass to their waiting mounts, dread sank stone-like through Emmalie's stomach. Prince Merrick's refusal to take the throne; Menegrest's continued antagonism; and now the cryptic puzzle of this summoning.
The peace of recent days was approaching its end, she felt.
The morning was lovely, bright and blue despite the coming winter. The Verdant Order's barracks in Ashwin were right beside the marketplace; delectable smells from food vendors had the unfortunate habit of drifting up to her office, and the din of merchants' calls and their customers' answering cries were not far behind.
Emmalie would have loved to be outside, but a damning pile of paperwork stared back at her from her desk. There had been a training accident the other day. Some recruits had gotten rowdy, as headstrong young soldiers were wont to do, and the wrong end of a sword landed on someone's foot. She'd already reprimanded the ones involved, but was now compiling a report to send back to the knight-commander, as well. After that, she would pen a stern reminder to the instructors to drill the importance of discipline into their knights-hopeful.
Times such as these, she regretted rising as far as Knight-Captain, and thus trading her patrol routes for a seat behind a desk. She once thought guard duty at the gates boring, but a somewhat older and wiser Emmalie now longed for the simple pleasure of sunlight on her shoulders, mingling with the citizenfolk, and generally ensuring the peace of the kingdom with her own two hands. It was so much harder to appreciate the impact of her work when shut away indoors.
A knocking sound interrupted her silent complaints. Emmalie's attention moved away from the window and onto Sorrick, who had just stepped into her office. A fellow knight of the Verdant Order, his armor was the same pale green color as hers, though where his pauldrons and cuirass were blank, upon Emmalie's were etched the image of curling vines dotted with small flowers.
She greeted him with a smile, but the corners of her lips fell at the expression on his face. She had not seen Sorrick this grave since King Rauph's passing.
"What is it?" she said.
"There's been an incident," Sorrick replied. At the look she gave him -- his statement couldn't be more vague -- Sorrick added, "You'd best come see for yourself. I'll give you the details on the way."
Still concerned, but now also greatly confused, Emmalie stood from her chair. She retrieved Eliz from its resting place by the wall, secured the greatsword to her back, and followed Sorrick out.
------
They went to the aviary and took wing on their borrowed eagles. Yesterday, the sky seemed a portent of rain, but this morning it was gentle, the clouds soft and delicate against a backdrop of blue. The frost-tipped peaks of the Rontola Mountains loomed in the north. As the forests around Ashwin quickly fell away to rolling fields, Sorrick explained.
A Cloud Guard scout had been on patrol west of Stillholm when he spotted something strange below. Local guards were assembled to investigate, and they quickly asked for support from an Order mage. Dain had responded to their request. Whatever it was she'd found at the scene, she thought it important for Emmalie to see in person rather than hear by message.
They arrived quickly. As they landed, Emmalie looked to the soldiers standing watch at the edges of the empty field, a deterrent for curious passers-by staring from the road. Worry pooled in her stomach as she dismounted.
Dain was crouched, several analytical instruments arranged around her, their crystal components lit and humming. Her uniform was similar to the knights of the Order, though of a darker green, and her armor only leather and cloth. A grimoire sat snug in the holster at her hip. As Emmalie and Sorrick approached, Dain looked up and gave a little wave.
"Good day, Knight-Captain Brakwell. I see Sorrick took my recommendation to heart and helped you escape from your desk."
Emmalie fought down a smile. Instead she glanced at the odd shape spilling across the ground by Dain's feet. Ivory white and deceptively simple-looking, it appeared to be a rune or sigil, though it didn't resemble any of the ones she'd studied at the Knights' Academy.
"Skip the pleasantries, please, Dain. What's going on? What is that?"
"Right. This," Dain gestured, "is what's left of someone's summoning ritual. Multiple someones, well-planned and prepared for. I analyzed the residual energies and -- I'm sorry to admit -- its construction is unfamiliar to me. But I can say for certain that it's not College magic."
"Not one of ours." Sorrick's eyes darkened. "Menegresti, then?"
Of course he would suspect Menegrest. Valone had been on bad terms with their eastern neighbor ever since Queen Lusine's assassination five years ago. King Rauph's death six months ago only marked new heights in the two nations' state of tension.
Worse yet, Prince Merrick had yet to formally accept his father's crown. It was tradition for Valone's allies to endorse the new monarch; Lindelwin gave their condolences and congratulations within a week of the royal funeral, but Menegrest had sent only barbed criticisms since then. Prince Merrick's advisors strongly urged him to move forward with the crowning ceremony anyway, but their kind-hearted prince insisted on trying to win over the Menegresti first.
Dain smiled faintly at Sorrick's suggestion. "There's a possibility. The execution resembles Menegresti spellwork, but the foundational structure of the ritual is something else."
"Could their mages have researched a new kind of spell array?" asked Emmalie.
"I can't say for certain." Dain's smile disappeared. "And our diplomatic relations with Menegrest being what it is, I'm reluctant to start pointing fingers in their direction without more solid proof."
"Alright. So we don't know who cast the ritual. What was summoned?"
Dain hesitated. Emmalie's worry redoubled. Dain was not normally given to hesitation.
"I'm not sure," Dain finally said. "Whatever passed through doesn't match any known signatures in our records."
Sorrick tilted his head like a confused hound. "What do you mean?"
"I mean what I said. The signature isn't person, beast, or demon. I'm not certain it even belongs to anything alive. All I can tell you is that our mysterious entity is very large."
"Large as in... dragon size?"
"Oh, no." Dain's smile was back as she shook her head at Emmalie. "Much larger. Greater than Castle Valgrad! Maybe even twice that."
"What? Hold a moment." Emmalie held out her hand, brow wrinkled. "No summoning ritual in written history has ever approached that magnitude. And even if one were to take place, it would have required a monumental amount of mana. More than a dozen mages could provide. On top of that, if something that size was summoned, then where is it?"
"All very good points, Knight-Captain."
Emmalie stared at her grinning colleague. "Dain. How many bottles of Beld's spit have you had?"
"Today? None. Look, I know it sounds impossible-"
"Sounds impossible?" Emmalie's voice rose despite herself. "It is impossible! You're telling me something bigger than a castle came through the Rift, but not only are its summoners and whereabouts both unknown, the only evidence we have of its existence is this sigil."
"In essence, yes. But take heart." Dain raised a knowing finger. "Something that large can't conceal itself for long; that much is impossible. If we mobilize the Cloud Guard and have them sweep the kingdom, they should find our trespasser in due course, wherever it's hiding."
Another report, then. It always rounded back to paperwork. Emmalie resisted the urge to run her hand down her face.
"I can't believe this... Very well. Sorrick, go inform Sky Captain Drystan. Have him bear word to His Highness, as well."
"Yes, ma'am."
As she watched her knight jog back through the grass to their waiting mounts, dread sank stone-like through Emmalie's stomach. Prince Merrick's refusal to take the throne; Menegrest's continued antagonism; and now the cryptic puzzle of this summoning.
The peace of recent days was approaching its end, she felt.
Corrosion
ur lite fades awey
Cryo Bay 15
Within the Far Passage were thousands of cryopods, each one holding within it a colonist or crew member stored in cryostasis. They were essentially in suspended animation, a deep freeze meant to halt their ageing and make long voyages pass by in the blink of an eye. This way, the crew did not have to weeks or even months aboard a vessel awake.
Cryo Bay 15 was rather special in that it contained the Far Passage’s Pathfinder contingent, two teams of six each. These Pathfinders were some of the best humanity had to offer, charted out unexplored worlds and discovering new species and minerals, and also being the first to research them. In many ways, these were very similar to the explorers of old who discovered the New World on their wooden sailing ships hundreds of years before, except, of course, garbed in cutting-edge equipment and armour designed for just about any environment.
The bay was quiet, each Pathfinder in stasis in their pod, until the awakening sequence came.
A hiss of steam erupted out of vents located on the pods as the occupant was awoken, followed by the hatch opening.
Dylan Rooker was the first to awaken, sitting upright as feeling came back to him. He cracked his neck, which was rather stiff from weeks in stasis, and then stepped out of his pod. He took a moment to stretch and shook off a bit of frost, before clapping his hands together and looking to the rest of his team, who were all also in the process of awakening.
“Alright, guys, rise and shine!” He announced, clapping his hands together with a grin. There was excitement in his eyes, which was understandable, given how this was both his first mission as an officially-commissioned Pathfinder and his first assignment as team lead. “Looks like we’re here!”
He was dressed in a simple shirt and pants made from special synthetic materials, which was what everyone wore as standard when they went to cryosleep.
Around him were the hissing of other cryopods disengaging from stasis and their hatches lifting open to reveal the occupant within.
"Still excited, eh, rookie?" A rather jovial voice spoke. A rather large man with a decent bit of grey in his hair stepped out of his pod, cracking his neck. Frederick Havelock, the team's demolitions expert. Whenever they needed a path cleared it was his job to make one. From rock cliffs to thickets of jungle, it didn't matter when he was there to make sure there was always a path forward. "It'll wear off soon enough. You just have to get used to it."
Rooker took a few more moments to stretch, his joints popping as he did so. Anti-cryofreeze fluid was still running through his bloodstream, and as the name suggested, it was a specially-designed fluid intended to prevent the more harmful effects of cryofreeze such as freezer burn or the formation of ice crystals beneath the skin, both of which were said to be agonisingly painful. A side effect of the cryofluid was nausea and disorientation after awakening, but it was nothing compared to the two. Besides, it would only last a while before the effects wore off as the fluid was naturally flushed out of the body, as it was designed to upon the human body reaching its normal temperature.
Of course, for him, the side effects were next to none with the implant he had received prior to deploying. Indeed, he had only felt the aftereffects of cryosleep for a few brief moments after he awoke, and they were very minor. The Rapid Detoxification Device, or informally known as a Toxin Scrubber, was a piece of magic, ridding his body of toxins and other harmful substances like a liver on steroids. In essence, he could chow down on poisonous food that could kill a human without any ill effects. It also happened to prevent the effects of alcohol, so that was something. Not to say that it was flawless, of course. It had a set amount before it simply couldn't handle the load, and was virtually useless against nerve agents.
"Don't think I'll ever get used to stepping foot on an uncharted planet, for one," he replied with a grin. "How's everyone else doing?"
"About as well you'd expect when it comes to being woken from cryo," Kai Yun uttered, brushing off some errant ice flakes off his clothes. He was the team's dedicated xenobiologist, and as such he was primarily tasked with collecting samples of native terrestrial life for analysis, and also the one responsible for ensuring that the environment was safe from infection. "Still, who knows what kind of life we'll find on Huygens-381d."
"Yeah, but make sure you don't get almost mauled by raptor rhino thingies like last time," Harriet Ashworth, or simply Ash as she preferred to be called, chuckled, adjusting her hair which was tied in a loose ponytail. The engineer of Alpha, it was her role to ensure that everyone's equipment was up to par, and also to oversee the functionality and maintenance of any equipment deployed on the field. She was also one of the few women within the ranks of the Pathfinders, given how grueling and physically-demanding it was in the first place and typically suited males better. "They had a stupid name I can't remember."
Semyon Duskin quickly corrected her. "They are called gorqrals, and I love saying that word," he had a hint of an Eastern European accent in his voice. His role was that of the team's medic, and as the name suggested, it was up to him to ensure the health of the members of the team, and to treat any injuries sustained in the field and out. "It was named after the sound Kai made after he was tackled by one."
Kai immediately looked flustered. "They are not!" He insisted. "They're named after the vocations they make! It's an onomatopoeia of their calls, not after me!"
Ash and Duskin shared a laugh at that. Rooker only raised a brow. "You've got to tell me that story."
"Why don't you read the logs, then? You should know to do that," a rather unfriendly voice spoke from behind him, and the Pathfinder turned to a rather grizzled-looking man cracking his neck. "I'd expect you as team lead to check the logs of all our missions. Or did you forget about that, rookie?"
Rooker grin faltered. "Morning to you too, Laswell."
Jarek Laswell was, for lack of a better term, the team's vanguard. A rather uncommon role for Pathfinder teams, he was a dedicated combat specialist meant to deal with threats more efficiently than the rest. Typically, they'd only be deployed on high-risk missions where threats, normally hostile fauna, were the greatest. For him to be here was understandable, given how Huygens-381d matched that criteria exactly. Rooker had been briefed, after all. They all had.
Laswell had been a member of the CNE Colonial Marines prior to becoming a Pathfinder, and his years of service against pirates and rebels plaguing human-controlled space had made him a grizzled and hardened soldier who had seen his fair share of combat. It was also clear from their first meeting that he hadn't exactly taken the news of Rooker leading Alpha very well. Rooker couldn't blame him. He was a freshly-commissioned Pathfinder straight out of the Academy who hadn't even been on a single mission before, while Laswell had already been one for years. He seemed to resent it more than anyone else.
Havelock rolled his eyes and turned to him. "Lay of him, son," he said. "This is his first posting, after all."
The former Marine narrowed his eyes. "As team lead," he said. "If it were up to me I'd take my chances with someone else who actually knows what he's doing."
"But it's not," Havelock crossed his arms. "And it's a good thing it isn't. I still trust Rooker's judgement."
"Rooker's judgement?" Laswell's face twisted into a bitter grin. "The only Rooker I know is Cedric Rooker, and I've yet to see if his son here if anything like him."
Ah, there it was.
Rooker knew that it was only a matter of time until his father was brought up. It was a name that just about every Pathfinder knew. Cedric Rooker, the most famous Pathfinder of all time, the man who was credited with the discovery of hundreds of new species of extraterrestrial fauna and flora and phenomenon, along with scientific breakthroughs and feats of design and engineering. He deserved that reputation, he really did.
Dylan Rooker, however? He had practically nothing under his belt except for the fact that he was the youngest Pathfinder to ever graduate the Academy at the age of 23. For reference, the minimum age to enroll was 18, and it took a minimum of six years to become one. He had graduated a year early after displaying extraordinary aptitude in all areas of his education. Perhaps that came with being a prodigy, as many had called him.
Rooker cleared his throat and spoke. "I prefer to forge my own path, thank you," he said, alright his personal insecurities already seemed to be seeping in.
Before anyone else could speak, the intercom sounded, and the rather grainy voice of Captain Wavell came through. "Attention all Pathfinders, please report to the PACC immediately. We have a situation."
Confusion registered on the faces of Alpha. "A situation?" Kai asked. "Well, that can't be good."
Ash let out a loud groan. "Ugh, they better not want me to fix a coffee machine again," she said. "Damn thing on the Far Sojourn was always broken for some reason."
"Doesn't make sense that we've all been woken just because there's been a technical fault," Havelock spoke. "Something's going on."
Rooker couldn't agree more. "CID," he said. "You there?"
The upbeat and monotone voice of the A.I. answered him. "Hello, how may I be of assistance?"
"Mind giving me a sitrep? What's going on?"
"It appears that the Torsion Drive of the Far Passage has malfunctioned. Cause unknown."
The young Pathfinder frowned. "Malfunctioned?"
"Correct," said CID. "It appears that the ship has been brought out of subspace through unknown means. We are unsure what has happened. Maintenance staff are at the moment unable to determine the cause of the fault."
"Ah, shit," Duskin muttered. "We're going be told that we're stuck in some corner of the galaxy, won't we?"
That was a rather disheartening thought. Only the Torsion Drive of one other colony vessel had failed before, the Far Venture, and that was thirty years ago. The technicians had solved the problem within a few days, and the ship was back on its journey, making it to its destination safe and sound. The Pathfinders on that ship were never woken as there really wasn't a need to.
But now with the cause of the malfunction apparently being unknown, that was just a massive issue for everyone.
Rooker shook his head, trying to dismiss the dark thoughts. "Let's get a move on," he said, grabbing a pair of shoes and a jacket from the footlocker by his pod and putting them on. He stepped to the exit. "I want to find out what's going on."
He made his exit, his team in tow.
Within the Far Passage were thousands of cryopods, each one holding within it a colonist or crew member stored in cryostasis. They were essentially in suspended animation, a deep freeze meant to halt their ageing and make long voyages pass by in the blink of an eye. This way, the crew did not have to weeks or even months aboard a vessel awake.
Cryo Bay 15 was rather special in that it contained the Far Passage’s Pathfinder contingent, two teams of six each. These Pathfinders were some of the best humanity had to offer, charted out unexplored worlds and discovering new species and minerals, and also being the first to research them. In many ways, these were very similar to the explorers of old who discovered the New World on their wooden sailing ships hundreds of years before, except, of course, garbed in cutting-edge equipment and armour designed for just about any environment.
The bay was quiet, each Pathfinder in stasis in their pod, until the awakening sequence came.
A hiss of steam erupted out of vents located on the pods as the occupant was awoken, followed by the hatch opening.
Dylan Rooker was the first to awaken, sitting upright as feeling came back to him. He cracked his neck, which was rather stiff from weeks in stasis, and then stepped out of his pod. He took a moment to stretch and shook off a bit of frost, before clapping his hands together and looking to the rest of his team, who were all also in the process of awakening.
“Alright, guys, rise and shine!” He announced, clapping his hands together with a grin. There was excitement in his eyes, which was understandable, given how this was both his first mission as an officially-commissioned Pathfinder and his first assignment as team lead. “Looks like we’re here!”
He was dressed in a simple shirt and pants made from special synthetic materials, which was what everyone wore as standard when they went to cryosleep.
Around him were the hissing of other cryopods disengaging from stasis and their hatches lifting open to reveal the occupant within.
"Still excited, eh, rookie?" A rather jovial voice spoke. A rather large man with a decent bit of grey in his hair stepped out of his pod, cracking his neck. Frederick Havelock, the team's demolitions expert. Whenever they needed a path cleared it was his job to make one. From rock cliffs to thickets of jungle, it didn't matter when he was there to make sure there was always a path forward. "It'll wear off soon enough. You just have to get used to it."
Rooker took a few more moments to stretch, his joints popping as he did so. Anti-cryofreeze fluid was still running through his bloodstream, and as the name suggested, it was a specially-designed fluid intended to prevent the more harmful effects of cryofreeze such as freezer burn or the formation of ice crystals beneath the skin, both of which were said to be agonisingly painful. A side effect of the cryofluid was nausea and disorientation after awakening, but it was nothing compared to the two. Besides, it would only last a while before the effects wore off as the fluid was naturally flushed out of the body, as it was designed to upon the human body reaching its normal temperature.
Of course, for him, the side effects were next to none with the implant he had received prior to deploying. Indeed, he had only felt the aftereffects of cryosleep for a few brief moments after he awoke, and they were very minor. The Rapid Detoxification Device, or informally known as a Toxin Scrubber, was a piece of magic, ridding his body of toxins and other harmful substances like a liver on steroids. In essence, he could chow down on poisonous food that could kill a human without any ill effects. It also happened to prevent the effects of alcohol, so that was something. Not to say that it was flawless, of course. It had a set amount before it simply couldn't handle the load, and was virtually useless against nerve agents.
"Don't think I'll ever get used to stepping foot on an uncharted planet, for one," he replied with a grin. "How's everyone else doing?"
"About as well you'd expect when it comes to being woken from cryo," Kai Yun uttered, brushing off some errant ice flakes off his clothes. He was the team's dedicated xenobiologist, and as such he was primarily tasked with collecting samples of native terrestrial life for analysis, and also the one responsible for ensuring that the environment was safe from infection. "Still, who knows what kind of life we'll find on Huygens-381d."
"Yeah, but make sure you don't get almost mauled by raptor rhino thingies like last time," Harriet Ashworth, or simply Ash as she preferred to be called, chuckled, adjusting her hair which was tied in a loose ponytail. The engineer of Alpha, it was her role to ensure that everyone's equipment was up to par, and also to oversee the functionality and maintenance of any equipment deployed on the field. She was also one of the few women within the ranks of the Pathfinders, given how grueling and physically-demanding it was in the first place and typically suited males better. "They had a stupid name I can't remember."
Semyon Duskin quickly corrected her. "They are called gorqrals, and I love saying that word," he had a hint of an Eastern European accent in his voice. His role was that of the team's medic, and as the name suggested, it was up to him to ensure the health of the members of the team, and to treat any injuries sustained in the field and out. "It was named after the sound Kai made after he was tackled by one."
Kai immediately looked flustered. "They are not!" He insisted. "They're named after the vocations they make! It's an onomatopoeia of their calls, not after me!"
Ash and Duskin shared a laugh at that. Rooker only raised a brow. "You've got to tell me that story."
"Why don't you read the logs, then? You should know to do that," a rather unfriendly voice spoke from behind him, and the Pathfinder turned to a rather grizzled-looking man cracking his neck. "I'd expect you as team lead to check the logs of all our missions. Or did you forget about that, rookie?"
Rooker grin faltered. "Morning to you too, Laswell."
Jarek Laswell was, for lack of a better term, the team's vanguard. A rather uncommon role for Pathfinder teams, he was a dedicated combat specialist meant to deal with threats more efficiently than the rest. Typically, they'd only be deployed on high-risk missions where threats, normally hostile fauna, were the greatest. For him to be here was understandable, given how Huygens-381d matched that criteria exactly. Rooker had been briefed, after all. They all had.
Laswell had been a member of the CNE Colonial Marines prior to becoming a Pathfinder, and his years of service against pirates and rebels plaguing human-controlled space had made him a grizzled and hardened soldier who had seen his fair share of combat. It was also clear from their first meeting that he hadn't exactly taken the news of Rooker leading Alpha very well. Rooker couldn't blame him. He was a freshly-commissioned Pathfinder straight out of the Academy who hadn't even been on a single mission before, while Laswell had already been one for years. He seemed to resent it more than anyone else.
Havelock rolled his eyes and turned to him. "Lay of him, son," he said. "This is his first posting, after all."
The former Marine narrowed his eyes. "As team lead," he said. "If it were up to me I'd take my chances with someone else who actually knows what he's doing."
"But it's not," Havelock crossed his arms. "And it's a good thing it isn't. I still trust Rooker's judgement."
"Rooker's judgement?" Laswell's face twisted into a bitter grin. "The only Rooker I know is Cedric Rooker, and I've yet to see if his son here if anything like him."
Ah, there it was.
Rooker knew that it was only a matter of time until his father was brought up. It was a name that just about every Pathfinder knew. Cedric Rooker, the most famous Pathfinder of all time, the man who was credited with the discovery of hundreds of new species of extraterrestrial fauna and flora and phenomenon, along with scientific breakthroughs and feats of design and engineering. He deserved that reputation, he really did.
Dylan Rooker, however? He had practically nothing under his belt except for the fact that he was the youngest Pathfinder to ever graduate the Academy at the age of 23. For reference, the minimum age to enroll was 18, and it took a minimum of six years to become one. He had graduated a year early after displaying extraordinary aptitude in all areas of his education. Perhaps that came with being a prodigy, as many had called him.
Rooker cleared his throat and spoke. "I prefer to forge my own path, thank you," he said, alright his personal insecurities already seemed to be seeping in.
Before anyone else could speak, the intercom sounded, and the rather grainy voice of Captain Wavell came through. "Attention all Pathfinders, please report to the PACC immediately. We have a situation."
Confusion registered on the faces of Alpha. "A situation?" Kai asked. "Well, that can't be good."
Ash let out a loud groan. "Ugh, they better not want me to fix a coffee machine again," she said. "Damn thing on the Far Sojourn was always broken for some reason."
"Doesn't make sense that we've all been woken just because there's been a technical fault," Havelock spoke. "Something's going on."
Rooker couldn't agree more. "CID," he said. "You there?"
The upbeat and monotone voice of the A.I. answered him. "Hello, how may I be of assistance?"
"Mind giving me a sitrep? What's going on?"
"It appears that the Torsion Drive of the Far Passage has malfunctioned. Cause unknown."
The young Pathfinder frowned. "Malfunctioned?"
"Correct," said CID. "It appears that the ship has been brought out of subspace through unknown means. We are unsure what has happened. Maintenance staff are at the moment unable to determine the cause of the fault."
"Ah, shit," Duskin muttered. "We're going be told that we're stuck in some corner of the galaxy, won't we?"
That was a rather disheartening thought. Only the Torsion Drive of one other colony vessel had failed before, the Far Venture, and that was thirty years ago. The technicians had solved the problem within a few days, and the ship was back on its journey, making it to its destination safe and sound. The Pathfinders on that ship were never woken as there really wasn't a need to.
But now with the cause of the malfunction apparently being unknown, that was just a massive issue for everyone.
Rooker shook his head, trying to dismiss the dark thoughts. "Let's get a move on," he said, grabbing a pair of shoes and a jacket from the footlocker by his pod and putting them on. He stepped to the exit. "I want to find out what's going on."
He made his exit, his team in tow.
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VermilionBird
Of the South
After Sorrick departed, Emmalie remained by Dain's side a while longer to see what other clues the Verdant mage could glean from the white sigil. That, and she was not especially eager to return to her desk, or to the realities of her station awaiting her there. If Dain's deductions were correct -- and her history of being so was commendable -- then this moment of relative peace might be the last Emmalie could expect for the near future.
Dain had moved her instruments so that they now sat equidistant from one another around the sigil's perimeter. Wrought of an aurum metal, with purple shards of Amistra's Tears floating above a cup-like apparatus, occasionally the instruments would chime and produce a glyph showing their analysis in long, glowing strings of text.
Emmalie glanced at the readings over Dain's shoulder. Most of the words were beyond her ken, but her attention latched onto a set of numbers. "Coordinates... But not ones for locations on Gaia. You're trying to track the trespasser's origin from the Rift?"
Dain gave an affirmative hum. "We don't know who or what was summoned. That much I've tried to uncover, but I've had no luck. However, if I can figure out what part of the Rift this entity was called from, that might give us a clue."
"What part of the Rift is it, then?"
Dain gave another hum, this one sounding less certain. "That's the strange bit. It seems to be... up in the sky? Very far up? A higher distance than even demons could fly, that is."
"In other words," Emmalie frowned, "another mystery rather than an answer."
This unfortunate conclusion trailed into several seconds of silence. Dain tapped her instrument as if hoping that would change their results. Then she blew out a frustrated sigh and rose from her crouch. "Right. That's a dead end, too. So then, my last idea is to re-open the portal myself."
Emmalie's immediate reaction was disapproval, but then she considered it in earnest. Summoning was a well-documented and fairly straightforward affair when one wasn't trying to pull something larger than castles through the Rift. It was, essentially, a branch of teleportation magic, except that the target of teleportation was someone or something other than the caster. The waygates that stood in towns and cities all across the continent were the best example. Those complex structures of stone and crystal acted in lieu of mortal summoners, anchoring the entry and exit points, and providing an easy beacon for travelers to follow once they slipped out of Gaia. Those who used waygates to cross the Rift need not be experts of magecraft, only prepare themselves for the loss of mana from their bodies as they were briefly exposed to the Rift's mana-starved atmosphere.
"Re-open the portal," Emmalie repeated slowly, "and take a look around yourself. Is that the idea?"
"It is. I won't do it out here, of course." Dain flung a hand at the empty field, at the guards and civilians still watching. "On the tiny but nonzero chance my plan goes poorly, any help I might get would be limited. I'll attempt it once I'm back at the barracks. Speaking of..."
Dain tapped the instrument again, more deliberately this time. Its crystal core dimmed and settled into the cup below, and its hum faded away. She circled the sigil to repeat this with her other instruments.
"I won't get any more information from this today, I expect. Help me pack up and we can return to Ashwin together? Oh, and perhaps you could spare a few of your stout-hearted knights to guarding this sigil? Not that I don't trust our local guardsmen to its security, but a matter like this is probably more than they signed on for."
"Your request is approved," Emmalie said with a shake of her head, already thinking about which of her poor subordinates to assign. She gathered Dain's instruments and followed her colleague to their eagles.
Dain had moved her instruments so that they now sat equidistant from one another around the sigil's perimeter. Wrought of an aurum metal, with purple shards of Amistra's Tears floating above a cup-like apparatus, occasionally the instruments would chime and produce a glyph showing their analysis in long, glowing strings of text.
Emmalie glanced at the readings over Dain's shoulder. Most of the words were beyond her ken, but her attention latched onto a set of numbers. "Coordinates... But not ones for locations on Gaia. You're trying to track the trespasser's origin from the Rift?"
Dain gave an affirmative hum. "We don't know who or what was summoned. That much I've tried to uncover, but I've had no luck. However, if I can figure out what part of the Rift this entity was called from, that might give us a clue."
"What part of the Rift is it, then?"
Dain gave another hum, this one sounding less certain. "That's the strange bit. It seems to be... up in the sky? Very far up? A higher distance than even demons could fly, that is."
"In other words," Emmalie frowned, "another mystery rather than an answer."
This unfortunate conclusion trailed into several seconds of silence. Dain tapped her instrument as if hoping that would change their results. Then she blew out a frustrated sigh and rose from her crouch. "Right. That's a dead end, too. So then, my last idea is to re-open the portal myself."
Emmalie's immediate reaction was disapproval, but then she considered it in earnest. Summoning was a well-documented and fairly straightforward affair when one wasn't trying to pull something larger than castles through the Rift. It was, essentially, a branch of teleportation magic, except that the target of teleportation was someone or something other than the caster. The waygates that stood in towns and cities all across the continent were the best example. Those complex structures of stone and crystal acted in lieu of mortal summoners, anchoring the entry and exit points, and providing an easy beacon for travelers to follow once they slipped out of Gaia. Those who used waygates to cross the Rift need not be experts of magecraft, only prepare themselves for the loss of mana from their bodies as they were briefly exposed to the Rift's mana-starved atmosphere.
"Re-open the portal," Emmalie repeated slowly, "and take a look around yourself. Is that the idea?"
"It is. I won't do it out here, of course." Dain flung a hand at the empty field, at the guards and civilians still watching. "On the tiny but nonzero chance my plan goes poorly, any help I might get would be limited. I'll attempt it once I'm back at the barracks. Speaking of..."
Dain tapped the instrument again, more deliberately this time. Its crystal core dimmed and settled into the cup below, and its hum faded away. She circled the sigil to repeat this with her other instruments.
"I won't get any more information from this today, I expect. Help me pack up and we can return to Ashwin together? Oh, and perhaps you could spare a few of your stout-hearted knights to guarding this sigil? Not that I don't trust our local guardsmen to its security, but a matter like this is probably more than they signed on for."
"Your request is approved," Emmalie said with a shake of her head, already thinking about which of her poor subordinates to assign. She gathered Dain's instruments and followed her colleague to their eagles.
Corrosion
ur lite fades awey
The Pathfinders of Alpha made their way down the corridors of the ship, well-lit with electronic lights. Along the way they passed by a handful of crew members, all wearing their standard-issue uniforms and jumpsuits. They respectfully moved to the side to make way for the team to pass by, all of them looking at them with looks of awe and respect, and in some cases envy.
"Looks like the whole crew's awake," Havelock noted. "Things must be pretty serious."
"As serious as potentially getting trapped in the interstellar void can be," Ash grinned.
It was likely the entire crew had been awakened, and it seemed like all of them were working on the problem. Rooker had a nagging feeling that this was going to be worse than a simple malfunction. It seemed like the ship's complement of colonists were still in cryo, however. Though that was more to do with standard procedure. If a mishap of some sort were to occur, the colonists were to be kept in cryo while the crew fixed the issue. There'd be no reason to wake them, unless they wanted a riot to occur from the colonists panicking.
The team made their way into an elevator which took them upwards. The clear glass that surrounded the elevator allowed them to see the decks of the ship as they passed, and the activity going on within. Now they could see the full extent of the operations. Dozens of crewmen were already milling around, many of them heading in the direction of the Torsion Drive and reactors.
The Far Passage had a standard crew of a hundred and twenty-seven, which was more than enough to keep the vessel running since CID was always there to handle most of the load.
The elevator stopped a few floors up, leading them into a corridor with a single door at the end. A sign above it read, Pathfinder Central Command.
Rooker stepped towards it and stopped in front of the door. A series of scanners lit up, beams of light washing over each member of the team as they scanned their biometrics, before flashing green as they verified their identities. The door slid open a moment later, revealing the area within.
The room itself was quite spacious, consisting of two floors lined with computer systems and other machinery. There were already a dozen support staff within, and from the looks of it, they were bringing the area up to operationally-ready condition.
This was where Pathfinders were briefed prior to missions, given the locations highly specialised role for coordinating the activities of Pathfinders planetside. The support staff seemed to be working feverishly to bring it up to readiness condition.
Situated directly in the middle of the room was a large holographic projection table, or simply a holotank.
Captain Wavell was standing by it, along with two others. The first was a man wearing a jacket emblazoned with the sigil of the Pathfinders. Jordan Brandt, or Accord as was his callsign when communicating with Pathfinder units on the ground. He was the commander of the Pathfinder detachment aboard the Far Passage. The other was Anwir Vaughn, the commander of the Corvus unit on the ship, and quite a grizzled veteran.
Rooker stopped and snapped to attention, as did the rest of the team. "Sir!"
Wavell raised his hand. "At ease."
The team relaxed, and Brandt wasted no time in addressing them. "Now, normally, I'd say good morning and treat you all to a nice breakfast after fourteen weeks of cryo, but unfortunately, there's no time for that now."
The team glanced at each other a little worriedly. "Sir?" Rooker questioned. "What've we got, if you don't mind me asking?"
The three senior staff looked to each other, before Wavell spoke. "We still aren't sure exactly," he said. "All we know right now is that there was an unknown issue with the Torsion Drive. All clues point to it being a malfunction, but the techs just aren't able to find anything wrong with it. Approximately fifteen minutes ago, I gave the order to initiate an emergency shutdown of the drive... and we just so happened to drop out of translight here."
He tapped the holotank, and the projection of a planet appeared above it. It was rendered in full detail and colour, and now it was a very Earth-like planet, with blue oceans and forests on several continents on its surface.
Needless to say, each member of the team was quite surprised. Kai looked more excited than the others, his xenobiologist mind obviously kicking in. "Incredible!" He exclaimed. "A continental world with liquid oceans and forested continents? What are the odds?"
"Yes, what are the odds?" Wavell parroted, folding his arms. "It's not just an Earth-like planet. From scans we've taken so far, the atmospheric composition of this world is nearly an exactly match of Earth's. The atmosphere is completely breathable, and livable. It's also only around ten percent larger than Earth. It's almost as if we've ended up right above some alternate version of Earth."
Vaughn cleared his throat, cutting in. "That's not the most important part. This is."
He stepped forwards and manipulated the image, zooming in and focusing on one of the landmasses. Now the image displayed a rather large city, with what appeared to be a castle or monastery situated atop a hill. From the designs, they seemed to be remarkably similar, if not identical, to European architecture of Earth during its late medieval period to the Renaissance, with brick constructions and tiled roofs.
Wavell let that sink into the minds of the Pathfinders, and the implications it brought along. He continued after a few moments. "Onboard scanners picked this up not too long ago, and since then, we've only been finding more. You know what this means, don't you, hm?"
"It means that there's intelligent life on this planet," Rooker spoke in complete awe and wonder. "And it's right below us."
"Wow, smart guy," Vaughn scoffed. "Looks like Pathfinder Academy really did teach you some things."
Brandt shot him a look, before he turned to the team. "From what we can understand, the civilisation on this planet is roughly at the technological and societal development is roughly equal to humanity during the late medieval period, or at least we can only assume with the latter. We've detected some strange energy readings, something I've never seen before."
"What's all this about intelligent life? Preposterous!" Came a rather stuffy voice from behind the team, and they all turned to see a man dressed in business attire that looked to be hastily thrown-on. He looked tired, but there was a certain light in his eyes. "What I've been told is that that planet right there is a prime garden world. Do you even know how rare those are in the entire galaxy?"
"Administrator Fernsworth, kind of you to join us," greeted Captain Wavell, though it was clear that there was a certain irritation in his voice. "Yes, I certainly know of the low probability of garden worlds in the galaxy, and this so happens to habour an intelligent alien civilisation."
Fernsworth scoffed, stepping over to the projection and studying it. "Hmph. An alien civilisation," he still seemed to be skeptical, despite the evidence right before him.
Brandt discreetly rolled his eyes. "Right... anyway, team, listen up," he turned to the Pathfinders. "We believe that deploying you planetside for survey and recon is our best bet right now, and given the state of the Torsion Drive, it's possible that we may be stuck here for a while."
"You want us on the ground, sir?" Rooker asked, quite surprised. "Sir, in my opinion, I think we could use more intel. What about sensor drones? We can use those."
"Those take a while to warm up," Laswell stated, folding his arms. "We're faster than those when it comes to deployment. What are the rules of engagement?"
"For now, my orders are to avoid contact. We need to know more about these... aliens before we initiate a proper first contact," Brandt said with a sigh. "We're not exactly equipped to deal with this kind of situation, nor were we really taught about these things in the Academy."
"We need to know more about the civilisation down there, whether they're a threat to us or not," said Vaughn. "And if they are, how exactly they'll react to us. They're primitive compared to us, as far as we know, there's an entire planet full of them, while there's only a little over twenty-five hundred of us total aboard this ship."
Fernsworth had been silently studying the planet while the others spoke. "Yes... well, you did say that they're primitive compared to us, correct?" He asked, turning to the group and gesturing to the planet. "If you ask me, this planet is just prime for colonisation. Much better than Huygens-381d, in my professional opinion, and from what little I know from the scans so far, it also has rich mineral deposits, much richer than Huygens-381d, in fact."
Kai raised a brow. "Are you saying you want to... colonise this planet?" He asked. "It's already got intelligent life on it, and this isn't our original mission."
The Administrator scoffed. "Yes, it is. Or it was, now that we appear to be stuck here with our Torsion Drive nonfunctional," he argued. "As Colonial Administrator, it is ultimately my responsibility to oversee the activities of the colony, and to make the important decisions. And I say that establishing a colony here overrules our original mission. You've seen the conditions of this world, and they are considerably better than Huygens-381d."
"He has a point," admitted Vaughn. "As Security Chief, I ultimately answer to the Colonial Administrator, and now I am agreeing with him, in the interests of the safety and wellbeing of the colonists aboard this ship."
The other two commanders didn't seem very happy, but they didn't show it. "...In either case, we must first have more information about what we're dealing with here. They do say that knowledge is power, after all."
Brandt nodded. "We need more intel, which is why I'm sending you on a mission planetside. Just a simple survey mission to gather samples and map out a possible initial colony site," he said, before turning to Grissom. "I have faith that that won't be necessary. You'll be making landfall outside of the major population centres, so you should remain undetected. In the event of hostile contact, you will only engage in self-defence, and nothing else."
"And if first contact isn't hostile?" Rooker asked.
The Pathfinder commander paused for a moment. "...Then I trust that you will be able to deal with the situation as you see fit," he said, looking at each of the gathered Pathfinders. "I'll be providing support, but intel will be limited until we can get the PACC fully up and running. Do I make myself clear?"
Rooker nodded. "Yes, sir."
With the briefing over and done with, Accord decided that it was time for the next step. "Gear up and head over to Hangar Bay 01. There's a Wyvern shuttle waiting, callsign Icarus 1-1," he told the team. "We'll be continuing to take scans of the system, find out where we are and the status of the Torsion Drive. Bravo will remain on the ship on standby, and they will be awaiting their brief. Dismissed."
"Sir!" Rooker snapped to attention.
He turned around and led his team out, single-file out the door. Out of the door and in the hallway away from the commanders and administrator, Ash rolled her eyes and snorted. "Real piece of work, that guy?"
"You've got to be more specific than that," Duskin told her. "There were three of them."
Ash gave him a look. "You know who I'm referring to," she said. "Fernsworth! Real asshole, he is. Who does he think he is, trying to colonise a planet that already has life on it?"
"They say he's a great politician," Laswell said. "Lotta enemies, too. Though more than a few of his opponents have ended up dead under... mysterious circumstances. Never managed to find any evidence linking him to their deaths, though."
"Well, he is the guy in charge of all this," Kai pointed out, a little sheepish. "Besides, I am just itching to meet the first intelligent life humanity has ever encountered."
"We don't know how they'll react to us," Havelock stated. "If their tech level was how we were a thousand years ago, they may see us as gods for all we know."
"I, for one, am all for being treated as a god by a bunch of primitives," Duskin grinned. "What do you think, eh, Rook?"
It took Rooker a while for him to realise that Duskin was referring to him. "Huh? Oh, uh..." he paused, thinking of a rpely. "This is just... insane," he said, speaking to his team. "Our drive goes down and we drop out of Torsion right above a planet that's both perfectly habitable and holds intelligent life. I don't know about you, but that just seems a little too much to be a coincidence to me. Call me crazy, but I think something else is going on here."
Ash snorted. "Like what? That some kinda alien space god brought us here for a reason?"
Duskin shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe the Flying Pierogi Monster did."
"Flying... Pierogi Monster?" Ash sounded incredulous. "Seriously?"
The medic threw up his arms. "Hey, is a long time legend!"
Rooker shook his head and called the elevator. "Hey, come on, I guess we might just be the first ones to make contact with intelligent life," he grinned.
Meeting intelligent life had always been a dream of his. For hundreds of years humanity had always wondered what life was like beyond Earth, and if there were any alien civilisations out there, how they would look and act. Despite hundreds of radar arrays and telescopes pointed to the dark corners of the galaxy, all had come up empty, and even with the invention of the Torsion Drive and expansion towards the stars, there was still nothing. Sure, extraterrestrial life had been found on various planets, but those were primitive lifeforms, more akin to animals than anything else. And plants were plants, no matter where they were.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, and the team crowded inside. Soon, they were heading downwards. Eventually, the doors opened to a rather large area. There were several lockers arranged against the walls, with the table in the middle. Next to each locker was a circular station with multiple robotic arms above each one. At the very end was a wall with multiple standard-issue weapons, mostly carbine rifles and pistols.
This was, of course, the Pathfinder Armory, an area restricted to Pathfinders and only Pathfinders besides direct superiors, for this was where high-tech gear and advanced Rigs were stored for their owners. Much of the equipment here was cutting-edge and rare.
Rooker stepped out and turned to his team. "Well, let's gear up and get ready to deploy. Don't wanna keep the shuttle waiting."
Havelock grinned. "My favourite part."
As was every other Pathfinder's.
Rooker headed over to his locker that was marked with his name. Once it detected him, it prompted him with a biometric scanner, to which he pressed his hand against, followed by leaning in for it to scan his face. Once his credentials had been accepted, it opened up, revealing the equipment he kept within.
The most prominent one was a quadrupedal robotic contraption that resembled a large dog that was currently folded up with its legs and head tucked into its body. Dylan grinned and leaned down, before powering it on and bringing it online.
The eyes on its head lit up suddenly, glowing blue, followed by the audio receptors that formed its ears popping up. It looked around, scanning the place before noticing Rooker. Recognising the face of its owner, it suddenly sprang up just as a dog would, before nuzzling Rooker's leg and panting exactly like its biological cousins.
"Hey there, miss me, boy?" Rooker asked, petting the machine, which stuck out its sensitive chemical-detecting tongue and whimpered affectionately. "Yes, I know you did!"
The machine was, of course, R3X, a pet project of Cedric Rooker with the neural scans of his own loyal dog before it died. R3X was designed to accompany Cedric on missions, acting as advanced recon, sensor and communications platform, materials handler, and of course, a pet. Once Rooker became a Pathfinder R3X was passed down to him as a gift, perhaps as a form of apology for always being away. Rooker couldn't really be sure. R3X was exactly what he needed, though, a loyal friend who would follow him anywhere.
"I am so damn jealous of your robot dog, you know," Ash remarked from her station.
Ceasing his petting of R3X, much to the machine's displeasure, Rooker returned to his attention to his locker. He took off his jacket and placed it on a hangar, instead taking out a standard Pathfinder undersuit that was made from highly-resilient materials and also CBRN-protected. He put it on, the apparel fitting perfectly over his body, before he zipped it up and put on a pair of gloves and boots. He then reached up to his chest and tapped it. His jumpsuit beeped, before it suddenly sealed up, ensuring that Rooker was now fully protected from any environmental hazards.
Once that was done, he turned to a computer interface and tapped it a few times. Next to his locker, there was a hiss of steam, and his Rig powered exoskeleton emerged from the floor. He stepped over to it, standing in the middle of the Rig station and turning around, before assuming a pose with his arms and legs apart.
The station came to life, his Scout Rig being fitted around his body, armour plates sliding into place as the robotic arms screwed everything together, servomotors whirring and the power unit humming as it came online. When it had been fully fitted, he felt it sync with his neural implant, and now he and his Rig were one. His HUD lit up, displaying vitals and status of his Rig.
"Calibrations initiated," came the voice of his Rig, speaking directly to him through their neural link.
He raised his arm, and his Rig complied, fluidly moving together. Then he repeated the motion with his left, before doing it with his legs. He stretched a few times, before activating his over-the-shoulder camera used for recording mission data.
"Calibrations complete."
With his Rig now active and functioning as his second skin, or rather, skeleton, in many ways. He looked around him to see that the other members of his team were also applying their Rigs. They were all different, from Havelock's Demolitions Rig with heavy blast padding, to Laswell's dedicated Vanguard Rig that made him look more like a soldier than explorer, and Duskin's Medical Rig with its large list of integrated medical tools and equipment.
Next he moved on to his weapons.
He stepped back over to his locker and took out his FN P197 personal defence weapon. It was a light and compact weapon, perfect for scouts such as himself. He inspected it, before taking out a rectangular 68-round box magazine and sliding it into the receiver and pulling back on the charging handle, chambering a caseless 4.6mm high-velocity round.
Next he took out his P423 handgun, inspecting it like he did with his P197, and, finding no errors, slid a magazine containing 28 5.7mm caseless rounds. He pulled back on the slide and chambered a round, and then inserted it into the holster by his right hip.
Last was his standard-issue combat knife, which he slid into a sheath on his left thigh. The rest was more standard-issue supplies like a medical injector and holo-tool, among other practical items. He also grabbed a few more extra magazines so he wouldn't run out of ammo.
Next, he decided to inspect the Grapple attached to his left arm. He readied it, the device deploying and the hook designed to attach to just about any solid surface emerging as a panel unfolded. This device was designed for rapid mobility, and the hook could be fired via a high-pressure pneumatic mechanism with a range of up to a hundred metres, which was also the length of hyper-tensile carbon-graphene nanocomposite cable attached to the hook. The cable was coiled inside the Grapple and ready to be deployed at a moment's notice.
He'd gotten quite good with it during training and field tests, and found it very useful to get to places out of reach of his Rig's boost jets. It could also be used to pull targets towards him such as supplies or equipment, and, in theory, could also pull living targets, though he had never tried it before. Apparently, Grapples had been used in covert operations to stealthily snap the necks of unsuspecting hostiles from afar. Rooker was a tad bit uncomfortable with that prospect.
When he was fully kitted up, and paused for a moment to inspect himself. Now he was geared as a full Pathfinder, and now he was about to deploy on his first actual mission, to a garden world with alien life, no less!
He was quite excited, to say the least.
The rest of his team was still gearing up. Havelock had grabbed a few demo charges, each one capable of blasting a hole several metres wide through solid rock, along with his favoured 12-gauge shotgun. Laswell was now hefting up a frankly massive heavy .50 caliber machine gun that looked like it would be just about impossible for a human to lift without a Rig. They were all geared up soon enough, however.
"All right, guys, do some final kit checks and get ready to move," Rooker announced. "I want to be on that shuttle and heading planetside in five."
He suddenly remembered something, and he reached into one of the pouches on his kit before pulling out a bar wrapped in nanocellulose plastic. "Oh, and ration bars, guys," he said. "Not exactly the ideal first meal after fourteen—err, twelve weeks of cryo, but we gotta make do. Eat up, we need those calories."
The ration bars we're standard for field operatives, being extremely calorie-dense and yet compact and lightweight. A single bar was enough to provide a day's worth of nutrients. And it was very important, too, given how humans going into cryostasis were required to have empty stomachs to prevent any... less than pleasant effects that included stomach ruptures.
“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Laswell uttered. “This ain’t my first time, you know.”
Rooker frowned at that, but said nothing.
Hangar Bay 01
The door to the expansive Hangar Bay 01 slid open, and the Pathfinders of Team Alpha came through. The hangar was a large and spacious area, cavernous in design with a high ceiling and a wide space. This area held all sorts of vehicles for the Far Passage's colonisation process, and there were already a number of technicians and engineers milling around the hangar to prep the vehicles to operational status.
Towards the end of the hangar bay was a massive HLTS-27 Orca Heavy Cargo Shuttle, a massive metal beast just shy of ninety metres designed to ferry tons of cargo and materials from the ship to the planet surface to provide the supplies needed to establish the colony. The Far Passage had two of these, the other one being held within Hangar Bay 02. For now, it was unneeded, and so it remained motionless, now only being surrounded by a handful of crew performing maintenance on it.
Team Alpha made their way through the hangar bay, past the crew who gave them looks of admiration, astonishment, and envy as they passed. A few of them saluted. It was fairly common whenever a Pathfinder or a whole team of them passed by.
The destination of the Pathfinders was just up ahead. Sitting on a landing pad and all prepped and ready was a single grey ATS-54 Wyvern Utility Transport Shuttle, the cargo ramp on its belly lowered. It was a large bird some twenty-five metres in length with two pairs of stubby wings that allowed for atmospheric flight, and also contained a jumpjet in each, allowing it vertical take-off and landing (VTOL).
Standing by the craft's ramp was a rather young-looking woman of East Asian descent, dressed in a flight suit with a helmet tucked underneath her shoulder.
She perked up as soon as she heard the team approaching, giving them a smile and wave. "So, you must be the Pathfinders I keep hearing so much about."
Rooker nodded. "Guess so," he said. "I'm Rooker. I lead Pathfinder Team Alpha."
The woman looked at each of the Pathfinders, before giving an impressed whistle. "Well, from the looks of it, you guys already look the part," she said. "I'm Shen, but you probably already know that I answer to the callsign Icarus 1-1. I'm the pilot of this bird right here, and I've been assigned to you."
“Yes, I’m aware,” Duskin spoke, stepping forwards. “Good to see you, Shen.”
Shen grinned at the medic. “Same to you,” she said as the two of them bumped their forearms against each other. “Haven’t seen you since Prism.”
“Got busy,” the medic shrugged.
The pilot turned to the rest of the team. “Well then, what are you waiting for?" She asked. "You ready to head out?"
"Venturing to an unknown world straight out of cryo?" Rooker asked with a grin. "Just what we trained for."
The team entered the shuttle's passenger compartment and secured themselves into the seats that lined each side, while Shen made her way to the cockpit and planted herself in the pilot's seat, putting her helmet on. "Initiating drop sequence... docking clamps engaging."
There was a dull thump outside as a set of magnetic clamps were affixed to the craft, lifting it off the ground as the ground below seemed to split open. Spinning warning lights around the pit were shining red. The Wyvern was then lowered downwards, until it stopped just above another door. The one above slid shut, and the one below opened, revealing the vacuum of space outside the ship and the planet down below.
"Ten seconds to drop," Shen announced.
Rooker took a breath, taking another look at his team. The rest of them were all already seasoned Pathfinders. He was still a rookie in many ways, even if he had gone through this countless times during training. This was his first real planetary drop as a Pathfinder, however. He pursed his lips and glanced R3X, who was secured next to him, and then at Havelock. "And here we go..."
“Don’t worry too much,” the old Pathfinder told him, flashing a thumbs-up. “Just remember your training.”
Shen's voice came through the Wyvern's internal speakers. "Disengaging in three... two... one."
There Wyvern was suddenly jettisoned downwards, launching out of the ship. Immediately, the sensation of freefall overcame the passengers aboard the shuttle as it shot towards the planet at a dozen kilometres per second. Once it was clear of the Far Passage, the Wyvern's primary hybrid thrusters activated, and it screamed towards the planet.
And so began the first step in a journey that would change both worlds forever.
"Looks like the whole crew's awake," Havelock noted. "Things must be pretty serious."
"As serious as potentially getting trapped in the interstellar void can be," Ash grinned.
It was likely the entire crew had been awakened, and it seemed like all of them were working on the problem. Rooker had a nagging feeling that this was going to be worse than a simple malfunction. It seemed like the ship's complement of colonists were still in cryo, however. Though that was more to do with standard procedure. If a mishap of some sort were to occur, the colonists were to be kept in cryo while the crew fixed the issue. There'd be no reason to wake them, unless they wanted a riot to occur from the colonists panicking.
The team made their way into an elevator which took them upwards. The clear glass that surrounded the elevator allowed them to see the decks of the ship as they passed, and the activity going on within. Now they could see the full extent of the operations. Dozens of crewmen were already milling around, many of them heading in the direction of the Torsion Drive and reactors.
The Far Passage had a standard crew of a hundred and twenty-seven, which was more than enough to keep the vessel running since CID was always there to handle most of the load.
The elevator stopped a few floors up, leading them into a corridor with a single door at the end. A sign above it read, Pathfinder Central Command.
Rooker stepped towards it and stopped in front of the door. A series of scanners lit up, beams of light washing over each member of the team as they scanned their biometrics, before flashing green as they verified their identities. The door slid open a moment later, revealing the area within.
The room itself was quite spacious, consisting of two floors lined with computer systems and other machinery. There were already a dozen support staff within, and from the looks of it, they were bringing the area up to operationally-ready condition.
This was where Pathfinders were briefed prior to missions, given the locations highly specialised role for coordinating the activities of Pathfinders planetside. The support staff seemed to be working feverishly to bring it up to readiness condition.
Situated directly in the middle of the room was a large holographic projection table, or simply a holotank.
Captain Wavell was standing by it, along with two others. The first was a man wearing a jacket emblazoned with the sigil of the Pathfinders. Jordan Brandt, or Accord as was his callsign when communicating with Pathfinder units on the ground. He was the commander of the Pathfinder detachment aboard the Far Passage. The other was Anwir Vaughn, the commander of the Corvus unit on the ship, and quite a grizzled veteran.
Rooker stopped and snapped to attention, as did the rest of the team. "Sir!"
Wavell raised his hand. "At ease."
The team relaxed, and Brandt wasted no time in addressing them. "Now, normally, I'd say good morning and treat you all to a nice breakfast after fourteen weeks of cryo, but unfortunately, there's no time for that now."
The team glanced at each other a little worriedly. "Sir?" Rooker questioned. "What've we got, if you don't mind me asking?"
The three senior staff looked to each other, before Wavell spoke. "We still aren't sure exactly," he said. "All we know right now is that there was an unknown issue with the Torsion Drive. All clues point to it being a malfunction, but the techs just aren't able to find anything wrong with it. Approximately fifteen minutes ago, I gave the order to initiate an emergency shutdown of the drive... and we just so happened to drop out of translight here."
He tapped the holotank, and the projection of a planet appeared above it. It was rendered in full detail and colour, and now it was a very Earth-like planet, with blue oceans and forests on several continents on its surface.
Needless to say, each member of the team was quite surprised. Kai looked more excited than the others, his xenobiologist mind obviously kicking in. "Incredible!" He exclaimed. "A continental world with liquid oceans and forested continents? What are the odds?"
"Yes, what are the odds?" Wavell parroted, folding his arms. "It's not just an Earth-like planet. From scans we've taken so far, the atmospheric composition of this world is nearly an exactly match of Earth's. The atmosphere is completely breathable, and livable. It's also only around ten percent larger than Earth. It's almost as if we've ended up right above some alternate version of Earth."
Vaughn cleared his throat, cutting in. "That's not the most important part. This is."
He stepped forwards and manipulated the image, zooming in and focusing on one of the landmasses. Now the image displayed a rather large city, with what appeared to be a castle or monastery situated atop a hill. From the designs, they seemed to be remarkably similar, if not identical, to European architecture of Earth during its late medieval period to the Renaissance, with brick constructions and tiled roofs.
Wavell let that sink into the minds of the Pathfinders, and the implications it brought along. He continued after a few moments. "Onboard scanners picked this up not too long ago, and since then, we've only been finding more. You know what this means, don't you, hm?"
"It means that there's intelligent life on this planet," Rooker spoke in complete awe and wonder. "And it's right below us."
"Wow, smart guy," Vaughn scoffed. "Looks like Pathfinder Academy really did teach you some things."
Brandt shot him a look, before he turned to the team. "From what we can understand, the civilisation on this planet is roughly at the technological and societal development is roughly equal to humanity during the late medieval period, or at least we can only assume with the latter. We've detected some strange energy readings, something I've never seen before."
"What's all this about intelligent life? Preposterous!" Came a rather stuffy voice from behind the team, and they all turned to see a man dressed in business attire that looked to be hastily thrown-on. He looked tired, but there was a certain light in his eyes. "What I've been told is that that planet right there is a prime garden world. Do you even know how rare those are in the entire galaxy?"
"Administrator Fernsworth, kind of you to join us," greeted Captain Wavell, though it was clear that there was a certain irritation in his voice. "Yes, I certainly know of the low probability of garden worlds in the galaxy, and this so happens to habour an intelligent alien civilisation."
Fernsworth scoffed, stepping over to the projection and studying it. "Hmph. An alien civilisation," he still seemed to be skeptical, despite the evidence right before him.
Brandt discreetly rolled his eyes. "Right... anyway, team, listen up," he turned to the Pathfinders. "We believe that deploying you planetside for survey and recon is our best bet right now, and given the state of the Torsion Drive, it's possible that we may be stuck here for a while."
"You want us on the ground, sir?" Rooker asked, quite surprised. "Sir, in my opinion, I think we could use more intel. What about sensor drones? We can use those."
"Those take a while to warm up," Laswell stated, folding his arms. "We're faster than those when it comes to deployment. What are the rules of engagement?"
"For now, my orders are to avoid contact. We need to know more about these... aliens before we initiate a proper first contact," Brandt said with a sigh. "We're not exactly equipped to deal with this kind of situation, nor were we really taught about these things in the Academy."
"We need to know more about the civilisation down there, whether they're a threat to us or not," said Vaughn. "And if they are, how exactly they'll react to us. They're primitive compared to us, as far as we know, there's an entire planet full of them, while there's only a little over twenty-five hundred of us total aboard this ship."
Fernsworth had been silently studying the planet while the others spoke. "Yes... well, you did say that they're primitive compared to us, correct?" He asked, turning to the group and gesturing to the planet. "If you ask me, this planet is just prime for colonisation. Much better than Huygens-381d, in my professional opinion, and from what little I know from the scans so far, it also has rich mineral deposits, much richer than Huygens-381d, in fact."
Kai raised a brow. "Are you saying you want to... colonise this planet?" He asked. "It's already got intelligent life on it, and this isn't our original mission."
The Administrator scoffed. "Yes, it is. Or it was, now that we appear to be stuck here with our Torsion Drive nonfunctional," he argued. "As Colonial Administrator, it is ultimately my responsibility to oversee the activities of the colony, and to make the important decisions. And I say that establishing a colony here overrules our original mission. You've seen the conditions of this world, and they are considerably better than Huygens-381d."
"He has a point," admitted Vaughn. "As Security Chief, I ultimately answer to the Colonial Administrator, and now I am agreeing with him, in the interests of the safety and wellbeing of the colonists aboard this ship."
The other two commanders didn't seem very happy, but they didn't show it. "...In either case, we must first have more information about what we're dealing with here. They do say that knowledge is power, after all."
Brandt nodded. "We need more intel, which is why I'm sending you on a mission planetside. Just a simple survey mission to gather samples and map out a possible initial colony site," he said, before turning to Grissom. "I have faith that that won't be necessary. You'll be making landfall outside of the major population centres, so you should remain undetected. In the event of hostile contact, you will only engage in self-defence, and nothing else."
"And if first contact isn't hostile?" Rooker asked.
The Pathfinder commander paused for a moment. "...Then I trust that you will be able to deal with the situation as you see fit," he said, looking at each of the gathered Pathfinders. "I'll be providing support, but intel will be limited until we can get the PACC fully up and running. Do I make myself clear?"
Rooker nodded. "Yes, sir."
With the briefing over and done with, Accord decided that it was time for the next step. "Gear up and head over to Hangar Bay 01. There's a Wyvern shuttle waiting, callsign Icarus 1-1," he told the team. "We'll be continuing to take scans of the system, find out where we are and the status of the Torsion Drive. Bravo will remain on the ship on standby, and they will be awaiting their brief. Dismissed."
"Sir!" Rooker snapped to attention.
He turned around and led his team out, single-file out the door. Out of the door and in the hallway away from the commanders and administrator, Ash rolled her eyes and snorted. "Real piece of work, that guy?"
"You've got to be more specific than that," Duskin told her. "There were three of them."
Ash gave him a look. "You know who I'm referring to," she said. "Fernsworth! Real asshole, he is. Who does he think he is, trying to colonise a planet that already has life on it?"
"They say he's a great politician," Laswell said. "Lotta enemies, too. Though more than a few of his opponents have ended up dead under... mysterious circumstances. Never managed to find any evidence linking him to their deaths, though."
"Well, he is the guy in charge of all this," Kai pointed out, a little sheepish. "Besides, I am just itching to meet the first intelligent life humanity has ever encountered."
"We don't know how they'll react to us," Havelock stated. "If their tech level was how we were a thousand years ago, they may see us as gods for all we know."
"I, for one, am all for being treated as a god by a bunch of primitives," Duskin grinned. "What do you think, eh, Rook?"
It took Rooker a while for him to realise that Duskin was referring to him. "Huh? Oh, uh..." he paused, thinking of a rpely. "This is just... insane," he said, speaking to his team. "Our drive goes down and we drop out of Torsion right above a planet that's both perfectly habitable and holds intelligent life. I don't know about you, but that just seems a little too much to be a coincidence to me. Call me crazy, but I think something else is going on here."
Ash snorted. "Like what? That some kinda alien space god brought us here for a reason?"
Duskin shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe the Flying Pierogi Monster did."
"Flying... Pierogi Monster?" Ash sounded incredulous. "Seriously?"
The medic threw up his arms. "Hey, is a long time legend!"
Rooker shook his head and called the elevator. "Hey, come on, I guess we might just be the first ones to make contact with intelligent life," he grinned.
Meeting intelligent life had always been a dream of his. For hundreds of years humanity had always wondered what life was like beyond Earth, and if there were any alien civilisations out there, how they would look and act. Despite hundreds of radar arrays and telescopes pointed to the dark corners of the galaxy, all had come up empty, and even with the invention of the Torsion Drive and expansion towards the stars, there was still nothing. Sure, extraterrestrial life had been found on various planets, but those were primitive lifeforms, more akin to animals than anything else. And plants were plants, no matter where they were.
The elevator dinged and the doors slid open, and the team crowded inside. Soon, they were heading downwards. Eventually, the doors opened to a rather large area. There were several lockers arranged against the walls, with the table in the middle. Next to each locker was a circular station with multiple robotic arms above each one. At the very end was a wall with multiple standard-issue weapons, mostly carbine rifles and pistols.
This was, of course, the Pathfinder Armory, an area restricted to Pathfinders and only Pathfinders besides direct superiors, for this was where high-tech gear and advanced Rigs were stored for their owners. Much of the equipment here was cutting-edge and rare.
Rooker stepped out and turned to his team. "Well, let's gear up and get ready to deploy. Don't wanna keep the shuttle waiting."
Havelock grinned. "My favourite part."
As was every other Pathfinder's.
Rooker headed over to his locker that was marked with his name. Once it detected him, it prompted him with a biometric scanner, to which he pressed his hand against, followed by leaning in for it to scan his face. Once his credentials had been accepted, it opened up, revealing the equipment he kept within.
The most prominent one was a quadrupedal robotic contraption that resembled a large dog that was currently folded up with its legs and head tucked into its body. Dylan grinned and leaned down, before powering it on and bringing it online.
The eyes on its head lit up suddenly, glowing blue, followed by the audio receptors that formed its ears popping up. It looked around, scanning the place before noticing Rooker. Recognising the face of its owner, it suddenly sprang up just as a dog would, before nuzzling Rooker's leg and panting exactly like its biological cousins.
"Hey there, miss me, boy?" Rooker asked, petting the machine, which stuck out its sensitive chemical-detecting tongue and whimpered affectionately. "Yes, I know you did!"
The machine was, of course, R3X, a pet project of Cedric Rooker with the neural scans of his own loyal dog before it died. R3X was designed to accompany Cedric on missions, acting as advanced recon, sensor and communications platform, materials handler, and of course, a pet. Once Rooker became a Pathfinder R3X was passed down to him as a gift, perhaps as a form of apology for always being away. Rooker couldn't really be sure. R3X was exactly what he needed, though, a loyal friend who would follow him anywhere.
"I am so damn jealous of your robot dog, you know," Ash remarked from her station.
Ceasing his petting of R3X, much to the machine's displeasure, Rooker returned to his attention to his locker. He took off his jacket and placed it on a hangar, instead taking out a standard Pathfinder undersuit that was made from highly-resilient materials and also CBRN-protected. He put it on, the apparel fitting perfectly over his body, before he zipped it up and put on a pair of gloves and boots. He then reached up to his chest and tapped it. His jumpsuit beeped, before it suddenly sealed up, ensuring that Rooker was now fully protected from any environmental hazards.
Once that was done, he turned to a computer interface and tapped it a few times. Next to his locker, there was a hiss of steam, and his Rig powered exoskeleton emerged from the floor. He stepped over to it, standing in the middle of the Rig station and turning around, before assuming a pose with his arms and legs apart.
The station came to life, his Scout Rig being fitted around his body, armour plates sliding into place as the robotic arms screwed everything together, servomotors whirring and the power unit humming as it came online. When it had been fully fitted, he felt it sync with his neural implant, and now he and his Rig were one. His HUD lit up, displaying vitals and status of his Rig.
"Calibrations initiated," came the voice of his Rig, speaking directly to him through their neural link.
He raised his arm, and his Rig complied, fluidly moving together. Then he repeated the motion with his left, before doing it with his legs. He stretched a few times, before activating his over-the-shoulder camera used for recording mission data.
"Calibrations complete."
With his Rig now active and functioning as his second skin, or rather, skeleton, in many ways. He looked around him to see that the other members of his team were also applying their Rigs. They were all different, from Havelock's Demolitions Rig with heavy blast padding, to Laswell's dedicated Vanguard Rig that made him look more like a soldier than explorer, and Duskin's Medical Rig with its large list of integrated medical tools and equipment.
Next he moved on to his weapons.
He stepped back over to his locker and took out his FN P197 personal defence weapon. It was a light and compact weapon, perfect for scouts such as himself. He inspected it, before taking out a rectangular 68-round box magazine and sliding it into the receiver and pulling back on the charging handle, chambering a caseless 4.6mm high-velocity round.
Next he took out his P423 handgun, inspecting it like he did with his P197, and, finding no errors, slid a magazine containing 28 5.7mm caseless rounds. He pulled back on the slide and chambered a round, and then inserted it into the holster by his right hip.
Last was his standard-issue combat knife, which he slid into a sheath on his left thigh. The rest was more standard-issue supplies like a medical injector and holo-tool, among other practical items. He also grabbed a few more extra magazines so he wouldn't run out of ammo.
Next, he decided to inspect the Grapple attached to his left arm. He readied it, the device deploying and the hook designed to attach to just about any solid surface emerging as a panel unfolded. This device was designed for rapid mobility, and the hook could be fired via a high-pressure pneumatic mechanism with a range of up to a hundred metres, which was also the length of hyper-tensile carbon-graphene nanocomposite cable attached to the hook. The cable was coiled inside the Grapple and ready to be deployed at a moment's notice.
He'd gotten quite good with it during training and field tests, and found it very useful to get to places out of reach of his Rig's boost jets. It could also be used to pull targets towards him such as supplies or equipment, and, in theory, could also pull living targets, though he had never tried it before. Apparently, Grapples had been used in covert operations to stealthily snap the necks of unsuspecting hostiles from afar. Rooker was a tad bit uncomfortable with that prospect.
When he was fully kitted up, and paused for a moment to inspect himself. Now he was geared as a full Pathfinder, and now he was about to deploy on his first actual mission, to a garden world with alien life, no less!
He was quite excited, to say the least.
The rest of his team was still gearing up. Havelock had grabbed a few demo charges, each one capable of blasting a hole several metres wide through solid rock, along with his favoured 12-gauge shotgun. Laswell was now hefting up a frankly massive heavy .50 caliber machine gun that looked like it would be just about impossible for a human to lift without a Rig. They were all geared up soon enough, however.
"All right, guys, do some final kit checks and get ready to move," Rooker announced. "I want to be on that shuttle and heading planetside in five."
He suddenly remembered something, and he reached into one of the pouches on his kit before pulling out a bar wrapped in nanocellulose plastic. "Oh, and ration bars, guys," he said. "Not exactly the ideal first meal after fourteen—err, twelve weeks of cryo, but we gotta make do. Eat up, we need those calories."
The ration bars we're standard for field operatives, being extremely calorie-dense and yet compact and lightweight. A single bar was enough to provide a day's worth of nutrients. And it was very important, too, given how humans going into cryostasis were required to have empty stomachs to prevent any... less than pleasant effects that included stomach ruptures.
“Don’t need to tell me twice,” Laswell uttered. “This ain’t my first time, you know.”
Rooker frowned at that, but said nothing.
------------------
Hangar Bay 01
The door to the expansive Hangar Bay 01 slid open, and the Pathfinders of Team Alpha came through. The hangar was a large and spacious area, cavernous in design with a high ceiling and a wide space. This area held all sorts of vehicles for the Far Passage's colonisation process, and there were already a number of technicians and engineers milling around the hangar to prep the vehicles to operational status.
Towards the end of the hangar bay was a massive HLTS-27 Orca Heavy Cargo Shuttle, a massive metal beast just shy of ninety metres designed to ferry tons of cargo and materials from the ship to the planet surface to provide the supplies needed to establish the colony. The Far Passage had two of these, the other one being held within Hangar Bay 02. For now, it was unneeded, and so it remained motionless, now only being surrounded by a handful of crew performing maintenance on it.
Team Alpha made their way through the hangar bay, past the crew who gave them looks of admiration, astonishment, and envy as they passed. A few of them saluted. It was fairly common whenever a Pathfinder or a whole team of them passed by.
The destination of the Pathfinders was just up ahead. Sitting on a landing pad and all prepped and ready was a single grey ATS-54 Wyvern Utility Transport Shuttle, the cargo ramp on its belly lowered. It was a large bird some twenty-five metres in length with two pairs of stubby wings that allowed for atmospheric flight, and also contained a jumpjet in each, allowing it vertical take-off and landing (VTOL).
Standing by the craft's ramp was a rather young-looking woman of East Asian descent, dressed in a flight suit with a helmet tucked underneath her shoulder.
She perked up as soon as she heard the team approaching, giving them a smile and wave. "So, you must be the Pathfinders I keep hearing so much about."
Rooker nodded. "Guess so," he said. "I'm Rooker. I lead Pathfinder Team Alpha."
The woman looked at each of the Pathfinders, before giving an impressed whistle. "Well, from the looks of it, you guys already look the part," she said. "I'm Shen, but you probably already know that I answer to the callsign Icarus 1-1. I'm the pilot of this bird right here, and I've been assigned to you."
“Yes, I’m aware,” Duskin spoke, stepping forwards. “Good to see you, Shen.”
Shen grinned at the medic. “Same to you,” she said as the two of them bumped their forearms against each other. “Haven’t seen you since Prism.”
“Got busy,” the medic shrugged.
The pilot turned to the rest of the team. “Well then, what are you waiting for?" She asked. "You ready to head out?"
"Venturing to an unknown world straight out of cryo?" Rooker asked with a grin. "Just what we trained for."
The team entered the shuttle's passenger compartment and secured themselves into the seats that lined each side, while Shen made her way to the cockpit and planted herself in the pilot's seat, putting her helmet on. "Initiating drop sequence... docking clamps engaging."
There was a dull thump outside as a set of magnetic clamps were affixed to the craft, lifting it off the ground as the ground below seemed to split open. Spinning warning lights around the pit were shining red. The Wyvern was then lowered downwards, until it stopped just above another door. The one above slid shut, and the one below opened, revealing the vacuum of space outside the ship and the planet down below.
"Ten seconds to drop," Shen announced.
Rooker took a breath, taking another look at his team. The rest of them were all already seasoned Pathfinders. He was still a rookie in many ways, even if he had gone through this countless times during training. This was his first real planetary drop as a Pathfinder, however. He pursed his lips and glanced R3X, who was secured next to him, and then at Havelock. "And here we go..."
“Don’t worry too much,” the old Pathfinder told him, flashing a thumbs-up. “Just remember your training.”
Shen's voice came through the Wyvern's internal speakers. "Disengaging in three... two... one."
There Wyvern was suddenly jettisoned downwards, launching out of the ship. Immediately, the sensation of freefall overcame the passengers aboard the shuttle as it shot towards the planet at a dozen kilometres per second. Once it was clear of the Far Passage, the Wyvern's primary hybrid thrusters activated, and it screamed towards the planet.
And so began the first step in a journey that would change both worlds forever.
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VermilionBird
Of the South
It was nearly noon by the time Sorrick returned to Ashwin. Still, the air remained cold and sharp, Beld's light doing little to halt the signs of encroaching winter. At this hour, the marketplace was warm with meandering bodies and cooking food -- an ephemeral respite from the cold -- so Sorrick chose to cut through its streets on the way to the Cloud Guard's compound.
Though not a tall man, the green shine of Sorrick's armor marked him as a reputable knight of the Verdant Order, so the crowds parted easily enough to make way. Some few citizenfolk bowed their heads as he passed, polite murmurs falling from their lips; Sorrick returned their greetings with a raised hand, feeling awkward.
He never quite knew how to react to public admiration. The bards had a way of exaggerating a knight's life, and Valone's legends sang of the Order's deeds nearly as much as they sang of the Cloud Guard's. In truth, Sorrick had only joined the Order because his sole talent was in swinging a weapon, and the knights' duties promised an opportunity to see lands beyond the sleepy mountain village he was raised in. Had he any less skill or ambition, Sorrick could have remained there, living peacefully as a local guard or perhaps a career adventurer.
Instead, he was marching towards the Cloud Guard's compound, preparing to inform the attending captain that a vague something was on the loose somewhere in the kingdom and they needed to find it, quickly.
Sorrick entered the gates, passing through the courtyard and towards the aviary. Unlike the public aviary which provided eagles for general and temporary use, the Cloud Guard's eagles were assigned to specific sky knights, mount and rider bonded as partners until death or retirement decided otherwise. Giant eagles were not aggressive creatures by nature -- they descended from the wild eagles that nested along the Rontola's many jagged cliffs -- but with training, they could learn to ignore the additional burden of armor, and lunge fiercely into battle with beak and talons flashing.
The Cloud Guard was the true pride of Valone.
As Sorrick approached the main building, two people exited. One he recognized as Captain Drystan, blond beard a match for the golden eagle emblazoned across his cuirass. The other, winged helmet tucked under one arm, was...
"Ah, Your Highness." Sorrick tapped his fist to his chest and bowed. "Good day."
Princess Mayfi gave him a smile, her lance leaned against one shoulder, brown braid tossed over the other. When Prince Merrick's sister had made known her intention to join the sky knights, taverns across the kingdom buzzed with gossip for months. There was precedence for members of the royal family seeking military careers, of course, but so very rarely did they desire a place among the Cloud Guard. Dark designs against a nation's ruling family were not uncommon, and there was less chance for disaster when one's feet remained on the ground.
Still, the headstrong younger royal sibling could not be swayed, and in time she proved herself a sky knight equal to any other of the Cloud Guard.
"Good day, ser knight. No need to stand on ceremony." Mayfi tilted her head at Drystan. "I expect you're here to speak with the captain?"
"Yes, Your Highness." Sorrick turned to Drystan. "There's been an incident, Sky Captain." At Drystan's puzzled look, Sorrick supposed too late that he should have learned from earlier and delivered the news differently this time. "Pardon me. Let me start from the beginning."
Sorrick explained the events that led the Verdant Order to the empty field, and now led him to the Cloud Guard's doorstep. Drystan's eyebrows were flat by the time he finished, and Mayfi's had risen so high they were in danger of flying off her face.
"A kingdom-wide sweep..." Drystan stroked his beard, deep in thought. "This is highly irregular, you understand. I daresay even the citizens will notice the sudden increase in our aerial patrols. They may question why."
"Then tell them why," said Mayfi. "An unauthorized summoning took place, and the Cloud Guard is tracking it down. Better the people hear the truth, than allow rumors to take a life of their own."
"A fragment of the truth, you mean?" Drystan gave Mayfi a knowing look.
"The fragment they need to know," she replied. "At the very least, if anyone comes across suspicious activity, they're more likely to report it."
"If that is your counsel, my lady." To Sorrick, Drystan said, "We'll prepare a scout team straight away. We'll send word through the waygates to the other outposts so that they can join the search, and inform His Highness in Valgrad as well."
"I will lead Ashwin's scout team myself," Mayfi said, already moving for the aviary.
Drystan cleared his throat, his tone rigid with authority. "Respectfully, Your Highness, I cannot allow that. I would prefer that you remain here in town."
Mayfi halted, turning. "And why is that?" Her words were calm, but her eyes were bright with challenge. "Is my knighthood but honorary, Captain?"
"No, Your Highness. You yourself know better than anyone that you earned your place among us. However, you are a royal heir before you are a soldier. Prince Merrick's current position is not stable. If anything were to befall him..." Drystan paused, as if thinking on his next words. Finally, he said, "There is too much we do not know about this summoning. All I mean to say is that there is no need for you to expose yourself to unnecessary danger when we yet have our entire force of sky knights to call upon."
Mayfi pursed her lips. "I'm loath to sit idle while my fellow knights risk themselves." She looked away. "But I concede your point. Very well, I'll stay back. But do let me know if the scouts find anything."
"Thank you," Sorrick said, carefully inserting himself back into the conversation. "I'll let Knight-Captain Emmalie know. She'll likely want the Verdant Order ready in case the scouts succeed in their mission."
"A trespasser larger than a castle, but we've not had any sightings of it." Drystan frowned. "What designs do the gods have in store?"
Though not a tall man, the green shine of Sorrick's armor marked him as a reputable knight of the Verdant Order, so the crowds parted easily enough to make way. Some few citizenfolk bowed their heads as he passed, polite murmurs falling from their lips; Sorrick returned their greetings with a raised hand, feeling awkward.
He never quite knew how to react to public admiration. The bards had a way of exaggerating a knight's life, and Valone's legends sang of the Order's deeds nearly as much as they sang of the Cloud Guard's. In truth, Sorrick had only joined the Order because his sole talent was in swinging a weapon, and the knights' duties promised an opportunity to see lands beyond the sleepy mountain village he was raised in. Had he any less skill or ambition, Sorrick could have remained there, living peacefully as a local guard or perhaps a career adventurer.
Instead, he was marching towards the Cloud Guard's compound, preparing to inform the attending captain that a vague something was on the loose somewhere in the kingdom and they needed to find it, quickly.
Sorrick entered the gates, passing through the courtyard and towards the aviary. Unlike the public aviary which provided eagles for general and temporary use, the Cloud Guard's eagles were assigned to specific sky knights, mount and rider bonded as partners until death or retirement decided otherwise. Giant eagles were not aggressive creatures by nature -- they descended from the wild eagles that nested along the Rontola's many jagged cliffs -- but with training, they could learn to ignore the additional burden of armor, and lunge fiercely into battle with beak and talons flashing.
The Cloud Guard was the true pride of Valone.
As Sorrick approached the main building, two people exited. One he recognized as Captain Drystan, blond beard a match for the golden eagle emblazoned across his cuirass. The other, winged helmet tucked under one arm, was...
"Ah, Your Highness." Sorrick tapped his fist to his chest and bowed. "Good day."
Princess Mayfi gave him a smile, her lance leaned against one shoulder, brown braid tossed over the other. When Prince Merrick's sister had made known her intention to join the sky knights, taverns across the kingdom buzzed with gossip for months. There was precedence for members of the royal family seeking military careers, of course, but so very rarely did they desire a place among the Cloud Guard. Dark designs against a nation's ruling family were not uncommon, and there was less chance for disaster when one's feet remained on the ground.
Still, the headstrong younger royal sibling could not be swayed, and in time she proved herself a sky knight equal to any other of the Cloud Guard.
"Good day, ser knight. No need to stand on ceremony." Mayfi tilted her head at Drystan. "I expect you're here to speak with the captain?"
"Yes, Your Highness." Sorrick turned to Drystan. "There's been an incident, Sky Captain." At Drystan's puzzled look, Sorrick supposed too late that he should have learned from earlier and delivered the news differently this time. "Pardon me. Let me start from the beginning."
Sorrick explained the events that led the Verdant Order to the empty field, and now led him to the Cloud Guard's doorstep. Drystan's eyebrows were flat by the time he finished, and Mayfi's had risen so high they were in danger of flying off her face.
"A kingdom-wide sweep..." Drystan stroked his beard, deep in thought. "This is highly irregular, you understand. I daresay even the citizens will notice the sudden increase in our aerial patrols. They may question why."
"Then tell them why," said Mayfi. "An unauthorized summoning took place, and the Cloud Guard is tracking it down. Better the people hear the truth, than allow rumors to take a life of their own."
"A fragment of the truth, you mean?" Drystan gave Mayfi a knowing look.
"The fragment they need to know," she replied. "At the very least, if anyone comes across suspicious activity, they're more likely to report it."
"If that is your counsel, my lady." To Sorrick, Drystan said, "We'll prepare a scout team straight away. We'll send word through the waygates to the other outposts so that they can join the search, and inform His Highness in Valgrad as well."
"I will lead Ashwin's scout team myself," Mayfi said, already moving for the aviary.
Drystan cleared his throat, his tone rigid with authority. "Respectfully, Your Highness, I cannot allow that. I would prefer that you remain here in town."
Mayfi halted, turning. "And why is that?" Her words were calm, but her eyes were bright with challenge. "Is my knighthood but honorary, Captain?"
"No, Your Highness. You yourself know better than anyone that you earned your place among us. However, you are a royal heir before you are a soldier. Prince Merrick's current position is not stable. If anything were to befall him..." Drystan paused, as if thinking on his next words. Finally, he said, "There is too much we do not know about this summoning. All I mean to say is that there is no need for you to expose yourself to unnecessary danger when we yet have our entire force of sky knights to call upon."
Mayfi pursed her lips. "I'm loath to sit idle while my fellow knights risk themselves." She looked away. "But I concede your point. Very well, I'll stay back. But do let me know if the scouts find anything."
"Thank you," Sorrick said, carefully inserting himself back into the conversation. "I'll let Knight-Captain Emmalie know. She'll likely want the Verdant Order ready in case the scouts succeed in their mission."
"A trespasser larger than a castle, but we've not had any sightings of it." Drystan frowned. "What designs do the gods have in store?"
Corrosion
ur lite fades awey
The Wyvern shot towards the planet, and soon enough, it began to enter its atmosphere. The craft shook rather violently as the first vestiges of air met its underside, and then began to encase the craft in a searing plasma coat at a temperature of 1,650 degrees centigrade. Entry burn was par of the course for any object entering a planet's atmosphere at Mach twenty-five, at hypersonic speeds. Most objects like meteors and the occasional satellite would break up from the strain and then burn up in the atmosphere on the way down, but the Wyvern was designed to withstand such tasks.
The underside of the shuttle was coated in a carbon-carbon layer of protection with ultra-low thermal conductivity meant to bear the brunt of the heat. Beneath that was a sheet of temperature-resistant metal alloys actively cooled by cryogenic fluid circulating through them. These layers of thermal protection worked in conjunction to shield the occupants of the shuttle from any harm while they were comfortably within an air-conditioned cabin.
The belly of the Wyvern glowed red-hot, and then white as it continued its descent, the air helping to slow it down. There was a deafening sonic boom as it streaked downwards at ten times the speed of sound, and from afar it would appear to be a great ball of fire.
Upon reaching the planet's upper stratosphere some fifty kilometres above sea level Shen engaged the shuttle's thrusters, switching to air-breathing. Bright orange cones of flames immediately sprouted from the Wyvern's engines, pushing it forwards. Now it was properly flying, rather than simply falling through the air. The entry burn had already faded by now as it had been slowed sufficiently enough, and now the shuttle was cruising through the air at two thousand kilometres an hour and descending.
By this time the forested and mountainous terrain below had come into view, and Rooker was again quite astonished at how much it resembled that of Earth's. Or well, from the old history vids dated a century back, of course.
"Command designated an LZ," Shen announced over the intercom. "Clearing in a forest."
"Any nearby settlements?" Rooker asked.
"Large city fifty klicks away," the pilot replied. "Likely the capital. Won't have to worry about being seen, though. I'll be putting us down in the middle of the forest."
They travelled for a few more minutes before the Wyvern tipped to one side. Rooker glanced out the viewport to see the aforementioned clearing down below. It was large, at least twice the size of the Wyvern, situated in the midst of what appeared to be a grove of pine trees.
"No hostiles detected," Shen stated. "Putting her down."
The Wyvern circled the area twice before it came to a stop over the middle of the clearing, hovering in the air and being held aloft by its wing-mounted jets. Then it began to descend, slowly floating downwards.
As it continued, Rooker turned to his team and nodded. He activated his Rig, and its helmet deployed, unfolding and expanding from behind his neck until it had covered his whole head. There was a short hiss, and then a click. Now his Rig had been pressurised and protected from any environmental hazards outside. The suit had been fully-sealed, too, with a rebreathing system scrubbing out any used carbon dioxide and then allowing the unused oxygen to be used again. This way they could be used for days in an environment that lacked breathable air. On planets that did have a breathable atmosphere it was standard procedure in order to prevent infection from unknown pathogens.
When the Wyvern was only a short distance from the ground it deployed its landing legs, and the touched down a second later. The still-active jumpjets burned away the grass below and left blackened spots. A good amount of dirt and foliage was kicked up by the engines.
Once it had touched down the engines were disengaged, and they went silent. The Pathfinders stood from their seats, readying their weapons as the ramp lowered. Then they rushed out with weapons raised, fanning out and forming a standard holding pattern. Rooker knelt down with his PDW up while Laswell scanned the treeline with his massive machine gun, spotting for any potential threats. A camera mounted to Rooker's Rig was recording everything.
A few moments had passed without any issue, and Rooker got back to his feet. "We're clear," he said. "Laswell, Ash, keep watch. Rest of you on me."
With each member of the team given a role, Rooker stepped forwards, turning to his robotic companion. "R3X, atmospheric scan, please."
R3X barked in affirmation, and then sniffed the air a few times. A report was then sent to Rooker. He checked it a few times before speaking.
"Confirmed, atmosphere is a near-exact match of Earth," he said. "Atmospheric readings report a primary nitrogen-oxygen-argon mix."
"No harmful pathogens or contaminants detected," Kai followed up. "Air's safe to breathe. I'd take off my helmet and take a breath of crisp forest air, but you know the rules."
Rooker nodded, putting his gun on his back and attaching it to his suit's magnetic clamps. "Alright, start taking samples," he said. "We need to get everything we can back to the ship as soon as possible."
He pulled out a small container and knelt down, scooping up a small amount of dirt and then putting it in, before sealing it.
The underside of the shuttle was coated in a carbon-carbon layer of protection with ultra-low thermal conductivity meant to bear the brunt of the heat. Beneath that was a sheet of temperature-resistant metal alloys actively cooled by cryogenic fluid circulating through them. These layers of thermal protection worked in conjunction to shield the occupants of the shuttle from any harm while they were comfortably within an air-conditioned cabin.
The belly of the Wyvern glowed red-hot, and then white as it continued its descent, the air helping to slow it down. There was a deafening sonic boom as it streaked downwards at ten times the speed of sound, and from afar it would appear to be a great ball of fire.
Upon reaching the planet's upper stratosphere some fifty kilometres above sea level Shen engaged the shuttle's thrusters, switching to air-breathing. Bright orange cones of flames immediately sprouted from the Wyvern's engines, pushing it forwards. Now it was properly flying, rather than simply falling through the air. The entry burn had already faded by now as it had been slowed sufficiently enough, and now the shuttle was cruising through the air at two thousand kilometres an hour and descending.
By this time the forested and mountainous terrain below had come into view, and Rooker was again quite astonished at how much it resembled that of Earth's. Or well, from the old history vids dated a century back, of course.
"Command designated an LZ," Shen announced over the intercom. "Clearing in a forest."
"Any nearby settlements?" Rooker asked.
"Large city fifty klicks away," the pilot replied. "Likely the capital. Won't have to worry about being seen, though. I'll be putting us down in the middle of the forest."
They travelled for a few more minutes before the Wyvern tipped to one side. Rooker glanced out the viewport to see the aforementioned clearing down below. It was large, at least twice the size of the Wyvern, situated in the midst of what appeared to be a grove of pine trees.
"No hostiles detected," Shen stated. "Putting her down."
The Wyvern circled the area twice before it came to a stop over the middle of the clearing, hovering in the air and being held aloft by its wing-mounted jets. Then it began to descend, slowly floating downwards.
As it continued, Rooker turned to his team and nodded. He activated his Rig, and its helmet deployed, unfolding and expanding from behind his neck until it had covered his whole head. There was a short hiss, and then a click. Now his Rig had been pressurised and protected from any environmental hazards outside. The suit had been fully-sealed, too, with a rebreathing system scrubbing out any used carbon dioxide and then allowing the unused oxygen to be used again. This way they could be used for days in an environment that lacked breathable air. On planets that did have a breathable atmosphere it was standard procedure in order to prevent infection from unknown pathogens.
When the Wyvern was only a short distance from the ground it deployed its landing legs, and the touched down a second later. The still-active jumpjets burned away the grass below and left blackened spots. A good amount of dirt and foliage was kicked up by the engines.
Once it had touched down the engines were disengaged, and they went silent. The Pathfinders stood from their seats, readying their weapons as the ramp lowered. Then they rushed out with weapons raised, fanning out and forming a standard holding pattern. Rooker knelt down with his PDW up while Laswell scanned the treeline with his massive machine gun, spotting for any potential threats. A camera mounted to Rooker's Rig was recording everything.
A few moments had passed without any issue, and Rooker got back to his feet. "We're clear," he said. "Laswell, Ash, keep watch. Rest of you on me."
With each member of the team given a role, Rooker stepped forwards, turning to his robotic companion. "R3X, atmospheric scan, please."
R3X barked in affirmation, and then sniffed the air a few times. A report was then sent to Rooker. He checked it a few times before speaking.
"Confirmed, atmosphere is a near-exact match of Earth," he said. "Atmospheric readings report a primary nitrogen-oxygen-argon mix."
"No harmful pathogens or contaminants detected," Kai followed up. "Air's safe to breathe. I'd take off my helmet and take a breath of crisp forest air, but you know the rules."
Rooker nodded, putting his gun on his back and attaching it to his suit's magnetic clamps. "Alright, start taking samples," he said. "We need to get everything we can back to the ship as soon as possible."
He pulled out a small container and knelt down, scooping up a small amount of dirt and then putting it in, before sealing it.
VermilionBird
Of the South
Emmalie and Dain made good time in putting away the crystal instruments and leaving instructions for the guards not to let anyone near the ritual site without sanction from the Verdant Order or the Cloud Guard. Their eagles carried them into the sky, Emmalie once again resigned to addressing her waiting paperwork, but hopeful that she'd at least be able to sneak lunch from the markets before then.
Her thoughts occupied by work and food, Emmalie did not immediately realize anything was amiss until Dain made a shocked exclamation from behind her. Emmalie turned in the saddle, about to ask what was wrong... but the question died in her throat.
A bright, burning streak careened through the blue sky, tracing an elegant line of fire.
'Gods be good, what is that?' Emmalie stared in stupefied wonder. Almost reflexively, she tugged on her eagle's reins, bidding the creature to stop. Dain did likewise, and for several long seconds they hovered there in the air, neither daring to blink.
Only once before was she privileged enough to witness a starshower, an event said to be a gift from both Beld and Amistra, the god of the sun sending the most beautiful of His light down from the heavens while the goddess of night lent Her canvas for this blessed spectacle. A starshower never failed to lift the people's spirits -- but now, Emmalie only felt cold dread. It seemed wrong that a single lonely star should fall in broad daylight, and burn so destructive a color. This was no gift.
Whatever it was, it plummeted into the green heart of the Shyywood.
Dain was first to speak, voice tremulous. "An alien object falls from the sky the same day we discover a most questionable summoning. I don't think this is mere coincidence. Do you?"
"I don't think so, no." Emmalie breathed deep, forcing the fear out of her body. She straightened her spine, let herself feel the shifting of the decorated pauldrons on her shoulders, the weight of the sword on her back. Duty beckoned. "Let's have a look, then."
They changed course for the forest. A white tail marked the unknown object's journey and subsequent arrival. Rather than head directly for it, however, Emmalie and Dain found a small glade some distance away and dismounted there. She had a bad feeling about what they might find, and if she'd learned anything from her years as a knight, it was to listen when her instincts demanded her attention. Her instincts warned her that burning shape was dangerous. These eagles were bred for civilian use and would not react well if attacked; better to leave them here, away from the possibility of battle.
Emmalie drew Eliz from its sheath. Runes formed of yellow crystal were embedded in the blade, their magic enchanting the greatsword with an unnatural lightness such that even someone of Emmalie's average stature could grip and swing it one-handed with little difficulty. The weapon was a treasured heirloom, presented to Emmalie by her grandfather the day she'd been promoted to officer. When he took Eliz down from the wall and laid it in her hands, a rare smile lighting his dark eyes, Emmalie had felt no greater joy than in that moment. It was a sign that she had finally earned his approval.
An approval her father never had.
Nearby, Dain unholstered her grimoire. She opened the tome flat in her hand, pressed her other palm to its pages scrawled with magicked ink, and murmured an incantation to the air. An invisible bubble seemed to press in on Emmalie's skin, felt even under all her clothes and armor. She advanced a step, but though twig and dry leaf bent beneath her footfalls, they made no sound.
Nodding in thanks, it was now Emmalie's turn to reach for the pendant dangling from her neck. The bronze sun was one of Beld's symbols, and receptive to pleas for His blessings. At Emmalie's whispered words of power, rows of shimmering plates formed around herself and Dain, snapping into the shape of a barrier. The barrier pulsed once, briefly radiant, and then the light faded, unseen but waiting for something of destructive intent to attempt breaching its boundary.
Stealthed and protected, they were as prepared as they would be.
They moved for the landing site. Emmalie walked with great caution, at arm's length in front of her colleague. Eliz sat steady on her shoulder, Emmalie's arm angled to swing it down at the first sign of trouble. If anything pounced from the bushes, she was ready to answer.
Her thoughts occupied by work and food, Emmalie did not immediately realize anything was amiss until Dain made a shocked exclamation from behind her. Emmalie turned in the saddle, about to ask what was wrong... but the question died in her throat.
A bright, burning streak careened through the blue sky, tracing an elegant line of fire.
'Gods be good, what is that?' Emmalie stared in stupefied wonder. Almost reflexively, she tugged on her eagle's reins, bidding the creature to stop. Dain did likewise, and for several long seconds they hovered there in the air, neither daring to blink.
Only once before was she privileged enough to witness a starshower, an event said to be a gift from both Beld and Amistra, the god of the sun sending the most beautiful of His light down from the heavens while the goddess of night lent Her canvas for this blessed spectacle. A starshower never failed to lift the people's spirits -- but now, Emmalie only felt cold dread. It seemed wrong that a single lonely star should fall in broad daylight, and burn so destructive a color. This was no gift.
Whatever it was, it plummeted into the green heart of the Shyywood.
Dain was first to speak, voice tremulous. "An alien object falls from the sky the same day we discover a most questionable summoning. I don't think this is mere coincidence. Do you?"
"I don't think so, no." Emmalie breathed deep, forcing the fear out of her body. She straightened her spine, let herself feel the shifting of the decorated pauldrons on her shoulders, the weight of the sword on her back. Duty beckoned. "Let's have a look, then."
They changed course for the forest. A white tail marked the unknown object's journey and subsequent arrival. Rather than head directly for it, however, Emmalie and Dain found a small glade some distance away and dismounted there. She had a bad feeling about what they might find, and if she'd learned anything from her years as a knight, it was to listen when her instincts demanded her attention. Her instincts warned her that burning shape was dangerous. These eagles were bred for civilian use and would not react well if attacked; better to leave them here, away from the possibility of battle.
Emmalie drew Eliz from its sheath. Runes formed of yellow crystal were embedded in the blade, their magic enchanting the greatsword with an unnatural lightness such that even someone of Emmalie's average stature could grip and swing it one-handed with little difficulty. The weapon was a treasured heirloom, presented to Emmalie by her grandfather the day she'd been promoted to officer. When he took Eliz down from the wall and laid it in her hands, a rare smile lighting his dark eyes, Emmalie had felt no greater joy than in that moment. It was a sign that she had finally earned his approval.
An approval her father never had.
Nearby, Dain unholstered her grimoire. She opened the tome flat in her hand, pressed her other palm to its pages scrawled with magicked ink, and murmured an incantation to the air. An invisible bubble seemed to press in on Emmalie's skin, felt even under all her clothes and armor. She advanced a step, but though twig and dry leaf bent beneath her footfalls, they made no sound.
Nodding in thanks, it was now Emmalie's turn to reach for the pendant dangling from her neck. The bronze sun was one of Beld's symbols, and receptive to pleas for His blessings. At Emmalie's whispered words of power, rows of shimmering plates formed around herself and Dain, snapping into the shape of a barrier. The barrier pulsed once, briefly radiant, and then the light faded, unseen but waiting for something of destructive intent to attempt breaching its boundary.
Stealthed and protected, they were as prepared as they would be.
They moved for the landing site. Emmalie walked with great caution, at arm's length in front of her colleague. Eliz sat steady on her shoulder, Emmalie's arm angled to swing it down at the first sign of trouble. If anything pounced from the bushes, she was ready to answer.
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Corrosion
ur lite fades awey
Rooker had wandered over to a small, bushy waist-high shrub and clipped off a branch with a handful of leaves that had a few blue berries growing on them and placed them inside a transparent container. He brought it up to eye level and inspected it. He could see that it highly resembled juniper plants that grew on Earth. In fact, it seemed like it actually was a juniper plant. The appearance of the leaves were about the same, along with the berries. He'd need to send the samples back to the Far Passage's onboard science lab for further analysis. If it ended up actually being a juniper plant, then, well, he had a feeling that this was just the tip of weirdness iceberg. The trees around him were probably pine, too.
He placed the container into a pouch on his belt and turned to the team's resident xenobiologist. "Kai," he spoke. "What've you got?"
Said xenobiologist was currently examining a cluster of bright purple flowers growing beneath the shade of a tree. "See this here?" He said. "I'm almost a hundred percent certain that these are rhododendrons. And that there! That's definitely wild geranium. Hell, I'm pretty sure these trees are pine, too."
"Thought you were a xenobiologist," Ash said, picking out a few mushrooms from a log. "How do you know so much about plants?"
"You gotta be familiar with life on Earth before you get to the stuff beyond, genius," Kai rolled his eyes. "But seriously, all this is just about an exact match of those on Earth!"
"That can't be possible," Laswell uttered, still scanning the treeline with his machine gun. "You saying that the malfunction threw us back in time or to an alternate world or something like that?"
"We can't know for sure," Rooker told the former Marine. "The landmasses don't match up, so that's your answer to at least one of your questions."
He shook his head, glancing up to the skies and above the treetops. Even if they couldn't see it from this distance the Far Passage was orbiting above them as they spoke. He paused for a moment as he spotted a glint in the sky, and his HUD confirmed that it was the vessel. The Far Passage's sensors were keeping a close eye on them, as it should in a situation like this. The senior staff were likely all watching their helmet cams of their mission, too.
He was about to resume his work when his radio sounded, and the voice of Brandt came through. "Alpha, this is Accord. Sensors just picked up a pair of fast-moving airborne units converging on your position"
"Airborne units?" Rooker asked. "Aircraft or fauna?"
"Objects appear to be abnormally large terrestrial eagles," CID stated. A feed of the ship's cameras tracking the objects as they flew above the treetops appeared on Rooker's HUD. From the looks of it, they were indeed strangely-large eagles.
But there was something more that caught his eye. "Wait, I think I see something on them... magnify zoom by five."
The feed zoomed in, and now the sight of what appeared to be mounts on the eagles came into view, and riding on them was a humanoid figure each.
"What the bloody hell is that?" Havelock asked. The feed had been broadcast to the HUDs of each member of the team.
"Could be the natives," Laswell said, looking in the direction of where the eagles were coming from. "Might be a welcoming party."
Rooker frowned. "No, doesn't seem like one. Don't think they'd send only two. I think it could be just a couple curious natives come to check us out," he said. "Accord, orders? Do we exfil?"
There was a pause. "Negative, your orders are to remain. Riders are dismounting and heading to your position. Might be too late for exfil," Brandt told him. Now the feed showed the riders heading into the forest after putting their eagles down. They vanished under the treetops, although the Far Passage's sensor systems marked their approximate locations based on their movements. They were both heading to the clearing where the Pathfinders and the shuttle were. "Secure the Wyvern, take positions by the trees, and remain out of sight. If necessary make contact with the natives, and only engage fired upon."
The young Pathfinder nodded at that. "Understood. Out," he pulled out his PDW and turned to his team. "Alright, you guys heard him. Let's go!"
The team made their way to the trees and took positions behind the trunks and bushes. Most of armour was a drab grey colour, which made it blend fairly well against the dense foliage. Making his way to join the rest of his team Rooker bumped the side of the Wyvern thrice. Shen understood, and the ramp was raised. Rooker knelt behind a bush, weapon at the ready along with the others, R3X at his side and ready to jump into action at a moment's notice. Now the clearing was quiet, with only thing looking out of the ordinary being the Wyvern currently parked in the middle.
Rooker's HUD displayed a minimap of the immediate area that highlighted his team in pulsing green dots. The unknowns were marked with yellow, and they were still heading towards their location. Thermal sensors also displayed a pair of red shapes moving through the sea of blue.
He placed the container into a pouch on his belt and turned to the team's resident xenobiologist. "Kai," he spoke. "What've you got?"
Said xenobiologist was currently examining a cluster of bright purple flowers growing beneath the shade of a tree. "See this here?" He said. "I'm almost a hundred percent certain that these are rhododendrons. And that there! That's definitely wild geranium. Hell, I'm pretty sure these trees are pine, too."
"Thought you were a xenobiologist," Ash said, picking out a few mushrooms from a log. "How do you know so much about plants?"
"You gotta be familiar with life on Earth before you get to the stuff beyond, genius," Kai rolled his eyes. "But seriously, all this is just about an exact match of those on Earth!"
"That can't be possible," Laswell uttered, still scanning the treeline with his machine gun. "You saying that the malfunction threw us back in time or to an alternate world or something like that?"
"We can't know for sure," Rooker told the former Marine. "The landmasses don't match up, so that's your answer to at least one of your questions."
He shook his head, glancing up to the skies and above the treetops. Even if they couldn't see it from this distance the Far Passage was orbiting above them as they spoke. He paused for a moment as he spotted a glint in the sky, and his HUD confirmed that it was the vessel. The Far Passage's sensors were keeping a close eye on them, as it should in a situation like this. The senior staff were likely all watching their helmet cams of their mission, too.
He was about to resume his work when his radio sounded, and the voice of Brandt came through. "Alpha, this is Accord. Sensors just picked up a pair of fast-moving airborne units converging on your position"
"Airborne units?" Rooker asked. "Aircraft or fauna?"
"Objects appear to be abnormally large terrestrial eagles," CID stated. A feed of the ship's cameras tracking the objects as they flew above the treetops appeared on Rooker's HUD. From the looks of it, they were indeed strangely-large eagles.
But there was something more that caught his eye. "Wait, I think I see something on them... magnify zoom by five."
The feed zoomed in, and now the sight of what appeared to be mounts on the eagles came into view, and riding on them was a humanoid figure each.
"What the bloody hell is that?" Havelock asked. The feed had been broadcast to the HUDs of each member of the team.
"Could be the natives," Laswell said, looking in the direction of where the eagles were coming from. "Might be a welcoming party."
Rooker frowned. "No, doesn't seem like one. Don't think they'd send only two. I think it could be just a couple curious natives come to check us out," he said. "Accord, orders? Do we exfil?"
There was a pause. "Negative, your orders are to remain. Riders are dismounting and heading to your position. Might be too late for exfil," Brandt told him. Now the feed showed the riders heading into the forest after putting their eagles down. They vanished under the treetops, although the Far Passage's sensor systems marked their approximate locations based on their movements. They were both heading to the clearing where the Pathfinders and the shuttle were. "Secure the Wyvern, take positions by the trees, and remain out of sight. If necessary make contact with the natives, and only engage fired upon."
The young Pathfinder nodded at that. "Understood. Out," he pulled out his PDW and turned to his team. "Alright, you guys heard him. Let's go!"
The team made their way to the trees and took positions behind the trunks and bushes. Most of armour was a drab grey colour, which made it blend fairly well against the dense foliage. Making his way to join the rest of his team Rooker bumped the side of the Wyvern thrice. Shen understood, and the ramp was raised. Rooker knelt behind a bush, weapon at the ready along with the others, R3X at his side and ready to jump into action at a moment's notice. Now the clearing was quiet, with only thing looking out of the ordinary being the Wyvern currently parked in the middle.
Rooker's HUD displayed a minimap of the immediate area that highlighted his team in pulsing green dots. The unknowns were marked with yellow, and they were still heading towards their location. Thermal sensors also displayed a pair of red shapes moving through the sea of blue.
VermilionBird
Of the South
They crossed the forest, silent as wraiths, their steps making no noise and mouths declining to exchange words. Emmalie was as tense as a drawn bow, trepidation sharpening all perception of her surroundings. Every flicker of dappled branch-shade tried to draw her eye, and even the rustling of wind through foliage made her sword-arm want to twitch in response. Without knowing what it was they were meant to face, Emmalie felt like she was marching into battle blindfolded.
That unrest only churned more fiercely in her belly as their objective became visible through the trees. As they neared, Emmalie could see that the fallen "star" hadn't crashed as she'd assumed, but had apparently... alighted in the clearing somehow, as a bird might come to rest. The structure itself was intact, sunlight bouncing off what appeared to be a smooth metal exterior. The ground beneath looked oddly clean, save for two pockets of blackened grass.
It was also quiet, and she misliked that greatly. Again her instincts shouted -- an obvious trap.
So she and Dain remained at the edge of the trees for some time, waiting. Listening and watching, holding a staring contest with the unknown structure before them. The minutes stretched on, from one to two, and two to five.
Still the clearing stayed peaceful, and at last Emmalie grudgingly recognized that they would learn nothing else from caution.
She sent Dain a short, sharp gesture. Stay. Dain's eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch, but she obeyed, shifting her body behind a wide pine. Her palm settled over her open grimoire, and her lips pinched in reply. Be careful.
Emmalie edged into the sunlight, pulse pounding. She approached one wary step at a time, leading with her left shoulder, torso turned to the side to guard her vitals should the structure suddenly come alive and belch fire. Her left hand stretched out, gloved fingers questing for the metal surface. The muscles of her right arm bunched, Eliz still perched on her shoulder but ready to fly.
That unrest only churned more fiercely in her belly as their objective became visible through the trees. As they neared, Emmalie could see that the fallen "star" hadn't crashed as she'd assumed, but had apparently... alighted in the clearing somehow, as a bird might come to rest. The structure itself was intact, sunlight bouncing off what appeared to be a smooth metal exterior. The ground beneath looked oddly clean, save for two pockets of blackened grass.
It was also quiet, and she misliked that greatly. Again her instincts shouted -- an obvious trap.
So she and Dain remained at the edge of the trees for some time, waiting. Listening and watching, holding a staring contest with the unknown structure before them. The minutes stretched on, from one to two, and two to five.
Still the clearing stayed peaceful, and at last Emmalie grudgingly recognized that they would learn nothing else from caution.
She sent Dain a short, sharp gesture. Stay. Dain's eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch, but she obeyed, shifting her body behind a wide pine. Her palm settled over her open grimoire, and her lips pinched in reply. Be careful.
Emmalie edged into the sunlight, pulse pounding. She approached one wary step at a time, leading with her left shoulder, torso turned to the side to guard her vitals should the structure suddenly come alive and belch fire. Her left hand stretched out, gloved fingers questing for the metal surface. The muscles of her right arm bunched, Eliz still perched on her shoulder but ready to fly.
Corrosion
ur lite fades awey
The Pathfinders of Team Alpha waited in silent anticipation as the contacts grew closer and closer. They were still at their positions by the trees, hidden just out of sight. From their sensors, the unknowns were only a few seconds out. Rooker noticed that there was no sound of their movement. Normally his Rig's sensors would pick up footsteps, and especially in a location such as this the sound of dried leaves and twigs getting crunched under soles would be made even more apparent.
"I'm getting some strange readings," Ash reported. She was speaking on internal comms, which meant that no sound was produced from her suit. "Don't know what, but I've never seen anything like it before."
"Think it's a threat?" Laswell asked, gripping his weapon. He seemed to be ready to fire at a moment's notice.
Rooker shook his head. "Don't know. Just keep your head down."
Finally, the unknowns emerged from behind the trees, allowing Rooker to take in their appearance in full, and suffice to say he was quite surprised to see that they were human.
Both of them were women, and dressed in rather odd apparel that made them look like they had just walked out of a Renaissance faire. However, even with the heavy cloths and leather they wore their outfits were similar, and now Rooker could deduce that they were likely military of sorts. The one on front in particular seemed to be wearing a partial set of plate armour, her chest and arms being protected by metal, and a cloak seemed to denote her rank. The other was dressed in lighter gear, mostly leather and cloth from the looks of it.
Then there were their weapons. Or at least for one of them. The one in plate armour was hefting a massive sword by her shoulder, but yet she didn't seem to have any difficulty holding it. Her companion seemed to be unarmed, but was grasping a thick, leather-bound book in her hands.
They stood there, just across the unseen Pathfinders as they seemed to take in the sight before them.
Rooker finally shook himself from his surprise and spoke. "Uh, guys?" He asked. "The natives... they appear to be human."
"What?!" Kai all but shouted, thankfully muted by his helmet. "That's impossible. There's no way humans evolved on another planet."
"Then how about the fauna we've discovered?" Havelock asked. "You said it yourself that it was a near-exact match of the ones native to Earth. We don't know where we are or what happened to the Torsion Drive. It could have flung us to an alternate dimension for all we know."
"To some crazy fantasy world of knights and dragons and whatever bullshit, if those two are any indication," Duskin added. "Those readings seem to be coming from them, and they remind you of those medieval warriors in the history books, don't they?"
"Maybe, but that seems a little far-fetched. I'm sure we'll be able to—wait, they're moving."
Indeed, the pair were on the move. The one with the sword seemed to give her companion a silent order to stay, before she moved into the clearing, making her way towards the landed Wyvern.
"She's moving to the shuttle," Laswell stated. "Permission to neutralise?"
Rooker shot him a look. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked. "Denied. Don't do anything rash."
But as the woman stopped before the Wyvern and stretched out a gloved hand to feel its surface, Rooker was the one who acted. His instincts flared, a million thoughts racing into his mind. He had no idea how the Wyvern would react to the woman's touch, if the materials used in its construction were toxic or harmful to the native humans, if the energy signatures she was emitting would in some way interfere with the vehicle's systems.
Just moments before she could make contact with the shuttle's surface, he emerged out of the trees. "Wait, stop! Don't touch that!"
Then he froze, realising what he'd just done. He'd revealed himself to the natives and spoken the first words ever to the first intelligent species humanity had ever encountered (even if they were human too, at least outwardly). Garbed in his full Rig he looked like an armoured monster.
"Dammit, rookie..." Laswell sighed. He nodded at the rest of them team, and they too emerged out of the trees, weapons at the ready and aimed at the woman.
"I'm getting some strange readings," Ash reported. She was speaking on internal comms, which meant that no sound was produced from her suit. "Don't know what, but I've never seen anything like it before."
"Think it's a threat?" Laswell asked, gripping his weapon. He seemed to be ready to fire at a moment's notice.
Rooker shook his head. "Don't know. Just keep your head down."
Finally, the unknowns emerged from behind the trees, allowing Rooker to take in their appearance in full, and suffice to say he was quite surprised to see that they were human.
Both of them were women, and dressed in rather odd apparel that made them look like they had just walked out of a Renaissance faire. However, even with the heavy cloths and leather they wore their outfits were similar, and now Rooker could deduce that they were likely military of sorts. The one on front in particular seemed to be wearing a partial set of plate armour, her chest and arms being protected by metal, and a cloak seemed to denote her rank. The other was dressed in lighter gear, mostly leather and cloth from the looks of it.
Then there were their weapons. Or at least for one of them. The one in plate armour was hefting a massive sword by her shoulder, but yet she didn't seem to have any difficulty holding it. Her companion seemed to be unarmed, but was grasping a thick, leather-bound book in her hands.
They stood there, just across the unseen Pathfinders as they seemed to take in the sight before them.
Rooker finally shook himself from his surprise and spoke. "Uh, guys?" He asked. "The natives... they appear to be human."
"What?!" Kai all but shouted, thankfully muted by his helmet. "That's impossible. There's no way humans evolved on another planet."
"Then how about the fauna we've discovered?" Havelock asked. "You said it yourself that it was a near-exact match of the ones native to Earth. We don't know where we are or what happened to the Torsion Drive. It could have flung us to an alternate dimension for all we know."
"To some crazy fantasy world of knights and dragons and whatever bullshit, if those two are any indication," Duskin added. "Those readings seem to be coming from them, and they remind you of those medieval warriors in the history books, don't they?"
"Maybe, but that seems a little far-fetched. I'm sure we'll be able to—wait, they're moving."
Indeed, the pair were on the move. The one with the sword seemed to give her companion a silent order to stay, before she moved into the clearing, making her way towards the landed Wyvern.
"She's moving to the shuttle," Laswell stated. "Permission to neutralise?"
Rooker shot him a look. "What the hell is wrong with you?" He asked. "Denied. Don't do anything rash."
But as the woman stopped before the Wyvern and stretched out a gloved hand to feel its surface, Rooker was the one who acted. His instincts flared, a million thoughts racing into his mind. He had no idea how the Wyvern would react to the woman's touch, if the materials used in its construction were toxic or harmful to the native humans, if the energy signatures she was emitting would in some way interfere with the vehicle's systems.
Just moments before she could make contact with the shuttle's surface, he emerged out of the trees. "Wait, stop! Don't touch that!"
Then he froze, realising what he'd just done. He'd revealed himself to the natives and spoken the first words ever to the first intelligent species humanity had ever encountered (even if they were human too, at least outwardly). Garbed in his full Rig he looked like an armoured monster.
"Dammit, rookie..." Laswell sighed. He nodded at the rest of them team, and they too emerged out of the trees, weapons at the ready and aimed at the woman.
VermilionBird
Of the South
Emmalie was but scant inches from reaching the structure when a voice suddenly called out from behind. Her outstretched hand snapped back, joining her right on Eliz's hilt as she pivoted, swinging the tip of the greatsword down to point at the speaker. All this happened by reflex; it was another moment before the rest of her senses registered the details of the... figure before her.
He -- the voice had sounded male to her ear -- was encased in a protective-looking skin of material unfamiliar to her. Emmalie wasn't even certain if it was armor or a part of his body, but the unsettling glow where eyes should be on his face made her favor the former conclusion. More pressing, he was not alone. Her eyes narrowed as more of them emerged from the trees, a noose ready to close in.
Who were they? What were they? The group almost resembled Lindelese golems, but they moved with far greater precision than Emmalie had ever known golems to possess. The purpose of the strange, blocky objects in their hands was also a mystery to her, but the aggressive way the figures wielded them suggested they were weapons rather than mere instruments.
There was no sound or motion from the place where Dain had hidden. The mage likely wouldn't act unless -- until -- Emmalie was bodily threatened. 'A trump card if things go sour', she thought grimly. She had been right to leave the eagles behind, after all.
Emmalie's expression shifted into a scowl. "Identify yourselves." She addressed the one who'd spoken, her voice as cold and hard as the steel aimed in his direction.
He -- the voice had sounded male to her ear -- was encased in a protective-looking skin of material unfamiliar to her. Emmalie wasn't even certain if it was armor or a part of his body, but the unsettling glow where eyes should be on his face made her favor the former conclusion. More pressing, he was not alone. Her eyes narrowed as more of them emerged from the trees, a noose ready to close in.
Who were they? What were they? The group almost resembled Lindelese golems, but they moved with far greater precision than Emmalie had ever known golems to possess. The purpose of the strange, blocky objects in their hands was also a mystery to her, but the aggressive way the figures wielded them suggested they were weapons rather than mere instruments.
There was no sound or motion from the place where Dain had hidden. The mage likely wouldn't act unless -- until -- Emmalie was bodily threatened. 'A trump card if things go sour', she thought grimly. She had been right to leave the eagles behind, after all.
Emmalie's expression shifted into a scowl. "Identify yourselves." She addressed the one who'd spoken, her voice as cold and hard as the steel aimed in his direction.
Corrosion
ur lite fades awey
The woman was quick to react, immediately lifting that massive sword of hers and pointing its sharpened tip at Rooker like it weighed nothing. The Pathfinder immediately aimed his weapon at her on instinct, and now what was essentially a standoff was now occurring, not helped by the fact that the rest of the team had also revealed themselves with their weapons at the ready. Now it seemed like they were threatening demons from another world, which they were from a certain point of view.
Rooker now realised that first contact could potentially screw up badly here, to the point of being FUBAR as the veterans liked to say. In a situation like this the last thing he wanted was for someone to get an itchy trigger finger, especially Laswell. That also went for the natives opposite him. There was still one out of view in the trees. She was remaining hidden, though likely ready to act at a moment's notice on her companion's order.
That was stupid, Rooker thought to himself. If this all went to hell then it'd all be on him. But... he had to do something, and he kept telling himself that. The woman touching the Wyvern could have some rather dire side effects, though he didn't know that. Pathfinders were supposed to make the right call, after all, trust their gut, but now he wasn't truly sure if he'd done the right thing.
The standoff continued, the woman's expression shifting into a scowl. Had she perceived Rooker's warning as a threat? After all, he had raised his voice, and it was unlikely that she spoke English, or any other Earth language.
And then she did, demanding them to identify themselves in perfect, clear English.
Rooker was quite glad he was wearing his helmet, because now he had a very surprised look on his face, eyes wide in surprise and mouth slightly agape.
"Did she... did she just speak English?" Ash was equally surprised. She was speaking through internal comms, so the natives couldn't hear her, and neither could they the rest of the team when they spoke through their comms.
"I think she just did," Duskin replied. "This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder..."
He was right in many ways. The Torsion Drive malfunctions and sends them to an Earth-like planet with a breathable atmosphere, which had fauna that was a near-exact match of those found on Earth, which was populated by humans, who also seemed to speak English.
Not exactly what Rooker was expecting for his first mission.
Shaking himself from his stupor, he took one hand off his PDW and held it before him and lowering his gun now-threateningly and motioning for his team to do the same. "We don't mean you any harm," he said, voice even.
"Your friend in the trees," Laswell suddenly spoke, massive machine gun still at the ready. "Tell her to come out where we can see her."
The young Pathfinder turned to the former Marine. "Laswell! Gun down! We don't want to cause any incidents!" He exclaimed disapprovingly
Laswell didn't reply for a few moments. "I'd say you've already caused this whole thing, but it's your call, sir," he lowered his gun, bitterness in his voice.
Rooker shook his head, before turning back to the woman. "Sorry about that," he said. "We're... uh, travellers, here to explore this world."
The sigil of the Pathfinders was emblazoned on his Rig's torso piece, and it became all the more apparent as he lowered his weapons. The other members of Team Alpha had similar symbols elsewhere on their Rigs.
Rooker now realised that first contact could potentially screw up badly here, to the point of being FUBAR as the veterans liked to say. In a situation like this the last thing he wanted was for someone to get an itchy trigger finger, especially Laswell. That also went for the natives opposite him. There was still one out of view in the trees. She was remaining hidden, though likely ready to act at a moment's notice on her companion's order.
That was stupid, Rooker thought to himself. If this all went to hell then it'd all be on him. But... he had to do something, and he kept telling himself that. The woman touching the Wyvern could have some rather dire side effects, though he didn't know that. Pathfinders were supposed to make the right call, after all, trust their gut, but now he wasn't truly sure if he'd done the right thing.
The standoff continued, the woman's expression shifting into a scowl. Had she perceived Rooker's warning as a threat? After all, he had raised his voice, and it was unlikely that she spoke English, or any other Earth language.
And then she did, demanding them to identify themselves in perfect, clear English.
Rooker was quite glad he was wearing his helmet, because now he had a very surprised look on his face, eyes wide in surprise and mouth slightly agape.
"Did she... did she just speak English?" Ash was equally surprised. She was speaking through internal comms, so the natives couldn't hear her, and neither could they the rest of the team when they spoke through their comms.
"I think she just did," Duskin replied. "This day just keeps getting weirder and weirder..."
He was right in many ways. The Torsion Drive malfunctions and sends them to an Earth-like planet with a breathable atmosphere, which had fauna that was a near-exact match of those found on Earth, which was populated by humans, who also seemed to speak English.
Not exactly what Rooker was expecting for his first mission.
Shaking himself from his stupor, he took one hand off his PDW and held it before him and lowering his gun now-threateningly and motioning for his team to do the same. "We don't mean you any harm," he said, voice even.
"Your friend in the trees," Laswell suddenly spoke, massive machine gun still at the ready. "Tell her to come out where we can see her."
The young Pathfinder turned to the former Marine. "Laswell! Gun down! We don't want to cause any incidents!" He exclaimed disapprovingly
Laswell didn't reply for a few moments. "I'd say you've already caused this whole thing, but it's your call, sir," he lowered his gun, bitterness in his voice.
Rooker shook his head, before turning back to the woman. "Sorry about that," he said. "We're... uh, travellers, here to explore this world."
The sigil of the Pathfinders was emblazoned on his Rig's torso piece, and it became all the more apparent as he lowered his weapons. The other members of Team Alpha had similar symbols elsewhere on their Rigs.
VermilionBird
Of the South
There was a beat of silence there, a collective pause where Emmalie wondered if she was right in sensing hesitation from the group. She had demanded to know their identities and expected an immediate answer, but it had not been followed. Again, instinct was at her ear, whispering. 'They have something to hide.'
Emmalie's eyebrows lifted when the one who'd spoken first claimed not to mean her any harm. Her eyebrows lifted further when another one, hefting the bulkiest-looking object among them, revealed that they knew of Dain's presence. A disagreement erupted between the two... creatures? Men? And the cogs of Emmalie's mind continued to turn.
They had been coordinated in their ambush of her. Each of them positioned so as to cut off any avenue of escape while also penning her against the alien structure behind. It had been a disciplined maneuver. Practiced. And there was something vaguely military in how the first one had ordered his fellow around, and the other had obeyed. She felt they must have trained together, or belonged to some organization or other.
Whatever they were, she did not think them simple travelers.
They had lowered their weapons, so Emmalie would respond with the same courtesy. Eliz's point fell away to rest upon the ground, its blade vertical, Emmalie's hand perched on its massive crossguard to keep the greatsword steady. She lifted her chin, eyes settling on the wide pine behind the group.
"Dain," she called. "Do as he says."
The Verdant mage walked ten paces into the clearing, looking distinctly unhappy that their attempts at stealth had come to naught. Her eyes darted from figure to figure, jaw tight with caution. Her grimoire remained open on her palm, though her casting hand was held rigid at her side.
"Hail," Dain said, voice flat.
Emmalie returned her attention to the first one. To 'Sir'. "Well met. I am Knight-Captain Emmalie Brakwell of the Verdant Order, and this is honored mage Dain Oaks, also of the Order. You stand in the Kingdom of Valone, well within her northern territories." Her tone was neutral, accusing nothing, yet still maintaining that rigid air of authority beneath the veneer of diplomatic politeness. "I've never seen travelers dressed as you are. I can only assume your journey has taken you far from your home."
"You warned me not to touch this," she went on. Emmalie tilted her head at the structure, her eyes never leaving him. "Is this your vehicle?"
"We saw a streak fall through the sky," Dain added, eyes now narrowed as they latched onto the familiar white sigil on the strangers' armor. "Is it airborne? Or perhaps... Did you all come through the Rift?"
Emmalie's eyebrows lifted when the one who'd spoken first claimed not to mean her any harm. Her eyebrows lifted further when another one, hefting the bulkiest-looking object among them, revealed that they knew of Dain's presence. A disagreement erupted between the two... creatures? Men? And the cogs of Emmalie's mind continued to turn.
They had been coordinated in their ambush of her. Each of them positioned so as to cut off any avenue of escape while also penning her against the alien structure behind. It had been a disciplined maneuver. Practiced. And there was something vaguely military in how the first one had ordered his fellow around, and the other had obeyed. She felt they must have trained together, or belonged to some organization or other.
Whatever they were, she did not think them simple travelers.
They had lowered their weapons, so Emmalie would respond with the same courtesy. Eliz's point fell away to rest upon the ground, its blade vertical, Emmalie's hand perched on its massive crossguard to keep the greatsword steady. She lifted her chin, eyes settling on the wide pine behind the group.
"Dain," she called. "Do as he says."
The Verdant mage walked ten paces into the clearing, looking distinctly unhappy that their attempts at stealth had come to naught. Her eyes darted from figure to figure, jaw tight with caution. Her grimoire remained open on her palm, though her casting hand was held rigid at her side.
"Hail," Dain said, voice flat.
Emmalie returned her attention to the first one. To 'Sir'. "Well met. I am Knight-Captain Emmalie Brakwell of the Verdant Order, and this is honored mage Dain Oaks, also of the Order. You stand in the Kingdom of Valone, well within her northern territories." Her tone was neutral, accusing nothing, yet still maintaining that rigid air of authority beneath the veneer of diplomatic politeness. "I've never seen travelers dressed as you are. I can only assume your journey has taken you far from your home."
"You warned me not to touch this," she went on. Emmalie tilted her head at the structure, her eyes never leaving him. "Is this your vehicle?"
"We saw a streak fall through the sky," Dain added, eyes now narrowed as they latched onto the familiar white sigil on the strangers' armor. "Is it airborne? Or perhaps... Did you all come through the Rift?"
Corrosion
ur lite fades awey
The woman called out to her companion, and a moment later emerged another woman from the trees. She didn't wear the same metal plate armour of the one with the sword, but wore a similar dark green outfit. Presumably, the two of them belonged to the same organisation, military, perhaps. She wasn't visibly armed, only holding an opened book in one hand, the other by her side. Rooker tilted his head slightly, a little confused by the prospect. R3X, who was standing by his side and ready to jump into action at a moment's notice, mimicked the action.
The air was still tense, despite the two sides having lowered their weapons. Rooker gave a quick glance over at Laswell. The team's combat specialist just seemed like he was itching for a fight, given the way he was gripping his machine gun. Still, he had enough faith that Laswell wouldn't do anything stupid. There was no way any aspiring Pathfinder would qualify if they did, after all, and from his personnel file Laswell had graduated near the top of his cohort.
The one with the sword turned to Rooker and introduced herself and her companion. Emmalie and Dain, apparently, members of the Verdant Order who served the Kingdom of Valone.
By this point the sheer absurdity of the situation had already run its course, so Rooker was not quite as shocked as he should have been.
"A knight and a mage, huh?" Ash spoke in the team's comms. "Feels like we just walked into a LARP."
“Think this is a lost colony or something?” Kai asked. “I mean, the CNE sent out more than a few colony ships right after the Torsion Drive was developed, and you know how a handful went missing.”
“If this is a lost colony we’d have detected at least some form of technology," Havelock reminded. "So far all scans have turned up empty."
Still, it was quite curious, really. Perhaps the humans here had evolved parallel to the ones on Earth. But that still didn't answer the question of how they could even speak English in the first place.
Emmalie's tone was neutral, but there was a clear air of authority behind her words. She was being diplomatic but cautious, Rooker understood.
Rooker cleared his throat. "I'm Dylan Rooker, and this is my team," he said." We're Pathfinders—explorers—of the Consolidated Nations of Earth."
He paused to think of what to say next. Pathfinder Academy hadn't actually trained him for this—first contact with an intelligent alien civilisation was always more of a sidenote than anything else.
"I suppose you can say that," he said after a moment. "We have come a long way."
A couple hundred light years, give or take.
He wasn't exactly sure how to explain faster-than-light transportation, and now was far to early anyway.
Emmalie was now asking about the shuttle. "Yes it is," said Rooker. "It's a Wyvern shuttle, our primary means of long-distance and planetary-space transport."
He turned to Dain. "We used the shuttle to make landfall from our ship. It's, uh, high up above the planet," Rooker paused a moment. "I don't think I understand what you mean by the Rift."
Had they seen the Far Passage come out of Torsion? Perhaps that matched the description. After all, a ship coming out of FTL to an outside observer would appear to be said ship simply appearing from a pinprick of light.
The air was still tense, despite the two sides having lowered their weapons. Rooker gave a quick glance over at Laswell. The team's combat specialist just seemed like he was itching for a fight, given the way he was gripping his machine gun. Still, he had enough faith that Laswell wouldn't do anything stupid. There was no way any aspiring Pathfinder would qualify if they did, after all, and from his personnel file Laswell had graduated near the top of his cohort.
The one with the sword turned to Rooker and introduced herself and her companion. Emmalie and Dain, apparently, members of the Verdant Order who served the Kingdom of Valone.
By this point the sheer absurdity of the situation had already run its course, so Rooker was not quite as shocked as he should have been.
"A knight and a mage, huh?" Ash spoke in the team's comms. "Feels like we just walked into a LARP."
“Think this is a lost colony or something?” Kai asked. “I mean, the CNE sent out more than a few colony ships right after the Torsion Drive was developed, and you know how a handful went missing.”
“If this is a lost colony we’d have detected at least some form of technology," Havelock reminded. "So far all scans have turned up empty."
Still, it was quite curious, really. Perhaps the humans here had evolved parallel to the ones on Earth. But that still didn't answer the question of how they could even speak English in the first place.
Emmalie's tone was neutral, but there was a clear air of authority behind her words. She was being diplomatic but cautious, Rooker understood.
Rooker cleared his throat. "I'm Dylan Rooker, and this is my team," he said." We're Pathfinders—explorers—of the Consolidated Nations of Earth."
He paused to think of what to say next. Pathfinder Academy hadn't actually trained him for this—first contact with an intelligent alien civilisation was always more of a sidenote than anything else.
"I suppose you can say that," he said after a moment. "We have come a long way."
A couple hundred light years, give or take.
He wasn't exactly sure how to explain faster-than-light transportation, and now was far to early anyway.
Emmalie was now asking about the shuttle. "Yes it is," said Rooker. "It's a Wyvern shuttle, our primary means of long-distance and planetary-space transport."
He turned to Dain. "We used the shuttle to make landfall from our ship. It's, uh, high up above the planet," Rooker paused a moment. "I don't think I understand what you mean by the Rift."
Had they seen the Far Passage come out of Torsion? Perhaps that matched the description. After all, a ship coming out of FTL to an outside observer would appear to be said ship simply appearing from a pinprick of light.
VermilionBird
Of the South
A team of explorers from the Consolidated Nations of Earth.
Earth? Nations? Then it was an organization they belonged to after all, and apparently one that spanned multiple borders. Such an alliance would enjoy considerable power and influence. Yet, neither Earth nor its guild of Pathfinders were names known to Emmalie.
Her confoundment only heightened as the man, Rooker, continued his explanation. Emmalie's eyes rolled upward to regard the blue sky overheard, trying to imagine the scenario he suggested. A ship cruising the skies instead of on the rivers or oceans -- no, a ship that flew higher than even that, in the very heavens themselves?
She struggled to believe such a thing was possible, and yet... Emmalie did witness his 'shuttle' fall from an immense height as if a star gifted unto them by Beld's hand. As incredible as his story sounded -- as incredulous as she was -- some part of Emmalie felt Rooker was speaking the truth.
"You're claiming you all came from... another world." By the wide-eyed look on Dain's face, she was having just as much difficulty as Emmalie in processing Rooker's words. Dain pointed a finger skyward. "Not from beyond the seas, but from another world entirely? Traveled here after crossing the heavens?"
Emmalie frowned. "That does seem to be the case. If we hadn't seen your party make 'landfall' with our own eyes, I would think you no more than a talented bard."
"I..." Dain glanced at the Wyvern behind Emmalie before then looking to Rooker. "Unfortunately, I believe you. Even from here, I can tell -- your ship has not an ounce of magic in its construction or its operation. In arcane terms, it's as special as any rock you could find on the ground. Purely mundane." Dain tilted her head, hand at her chin. "Yet I cannot deny that its design is complex. Probably more complex than anything our own engineers have ever dealt with."
At those words, Emmalie stiffened. It was plainly obvious that the Pathfinders employed technology beyond Valone's ability or understanding. What else were they capable of, then? What were their weapons capable of?
Her eyes went again to the boxy objects held in the Pathfinders' hands. She straightened, and her expression closed off as suddenly as if she had lowered the steel visor of a helmet. Trained as a knight, and duty-sworn as one of the Verdant Order, Emmalie was ever vigilant for any danger to the kingdom, no matter what its source or form.
"Pathfinder Rooker, you say your team is here to explore this world of Gaia." Her words were iron-edged with suspicion. "What would you do with the knowledge you acquire?"
Earth? Nations? Then it was an organization they belonged to after all, and apparently one that spanned multiple borders. Such an alliance would enjoy considerable power and influence. Yet, neither Earth nor its guild of Pathfinders were names known to Emmalie.
Her confoundment only heightened as the man, Rooker, continued his explanation. Emmalie's eyes rolled upward to regard the blue sky overheard, trying to imagine the scenario he suggested. A ship cruising the skies instead of on the rivers or oceans -- no, a ship that flew higher than even that, in the very heavens themselves?
She struggled to believe such a thing was possible, and yet... Emmalie did witness his 'shuttle' fall from an immense height as if a star gifted unto them by Beld's hand. As incredible as his story sounded -- as incredulous as she was -- some part of Emmalie felt Rooker was speaking the truth.
"You're claiming you all came from... another world." By the wide-eyed look on Dain's face, she was having just as much difficulty as Emmalie in processing Rooker's words. Dain pointed a finger skyward. "Not from beyond the seas, but from another world entirely? Traveled here after crossing the heavens?"
Emmalie frowned. "That does seem to be the case. If we hadn't seen your party make 'landfall' with our own eyes, I would think you no more than a talented bard."
"I..." Dain glanced at the Wyvern behind Emmalie before then looking to Rooker. "Unfortunately, I believe you. Even from here, I can tell -- your ship has not an ounce of magic in its construction or its operation. In arcane terms, it's as special as any rock you could find on the ground. Purely mundane." Dain tilted her head, hand at her chin. "Yet I cannot deny that its design is complex. Probably more complex than anything our own engineers have ever dealt with."
At those words, Emmalie stiffened. It was plainly obvious that the Pathfinders employed technology beyond Valone's ability or understanding. What else were they capable of, then? What were their weapons capable of?
Her eyes went again to the boxy objects held in the Pathfinders' hands. She straightened, and her expression closed off as suddenly as if she had lowered the steel visor of a helmet. Trained as a knight, and duty-sworn as one of the Verdant Order, Emmalie was ever vigilant for any danger to the kingdom, no matter what its source or form.
"Pathfinder Rooker, you say your team is here to explore this world of Gaia." Her words were iron-edged with suspicion. "What would you do with the knowledge you acquire?"
Corrosion
ur lite fades awey
Emmalie looked incredulous, as did Dain. Rooker couldn't blame them. After all, from the level of technology of the civilisation on this planet, they hadn't even invented the steam engine yet, so of course a spacefaring vessel over a kilometre in length designed to transport thousands of passengers to distant worlds to set up a colony would be completely incomprehensible to them. Hell, it would have been incomprehensible to the people of Earth even a century, before the discovery of the Torsion Drive.
"That is correct," Rooker nodded, and that was largely all he said. He wasn't exactly sure if he should tell them that they had crossed the interstellar void of space aboard the Far Passage, or that they had somehow wound up here through a mishap with the vessel's FTL drive.
Still, he paused a bit then Dain spoke, tilting his head in confusion. "Magic?" Now it was time for him to be incredulous. "But magic—"
"Isn't real," Laswell finished for him, sounding very sure of himself. The former Marine was still poised to jump into combat at the moment, and even how he seemed to be carefully watching the actions of both women, still vigilant if any of them even showed the slightest show of threat.
Rooker gave Laswell a look. He wanted to agree with him, he really did. Magic was the only explanation humans had for the unknown before the age of science, hundreds of years ago. Now in the 23rd century humans were quite a bit more rational, of course, and Rooker was no exception. Pathfinders were trained to think rationally, and that was something that was firmly embedded into his mind anyway. To him, just about everything could be explained by science.
Now though? He honestly wasn't so sure. He didn't know how to explain how the plant life on this world was practically an exact match of those on Earth, or how humans could have evolved here as well. The first thing that came to mind was parallel evolution, where completely independent species could acquire similar characteristics while evolving in parallel, as the name suggested, but this was just too far-fetched to be something like that. The two women also speaking perfect English was also just practically impossible.
There was something else at play here.
"The Wyvern has in fact been designed and assembled by the Boeing Aerospace Company on Earth," Ash spoke. She seemed quite proud of it, which was quite given due to her role as the team's engineer. She had to know her stuff. "Fine piece of engineering it is indeed."
Emmalie suddenly seemed to stiffen, and Rooker noticed her eyes drifting to the PDW in his hands. He gripped it a little tighter at that, feeling uncertain. Then she began to question him, and now it seemed like curiosity had given way to suspicion.
"We're here for scientific research and discovery, as part as our duties as Pathfinders. The data we acquire will be used for the betterment of humanity," Rooker answered snappily in a trained fashion. He paused, considering what to say next. Eventually he decided to withhold the knowledge that they were possibly going to set up a colony on this very world, this 'Gaia', as Emmalie had called it. "I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I'm at the liberty to tell you that now."
"Alpha, report!" The voice of Brandt came over his comms suddenly. "What's going on down there?"
Rooker realised that he had switched off his Rig's camera, so command aboard the Far Passage hadn't received a visual update about their situation yet. He looked away and disabled his helmet's external speakers. "Accord, this is Rooker. We've, uh, we've made contact with the natives."
There was a pause. "Have you engaged?"
"No, sir."
Brandt audibly sighed in relief. "Understood. Have you attempted communication?"
"Affirmative," Rooker replied. "And, uh, you're not going to believe this, but they're human. And they speak English."
Another pause, this one of stunned silence. "Come again?"
"Here, I'm transmitting a live feed now," Rooker said, and activated his Rig's camera. The mount the camera was on suddenly came to life, unfolding like a third arm and then aiming itself directly at the two women, the lens focusing just as an eye would.
"That is correct," Rooker nodded, and that was largely all he said. He wasn't exactly sure if he should tell them that they had crossed the interstellar void of space aboard the Far Passage, or that they had somehow wound up here through a mishap with the vessel's FTL drive.
Still, he paused a bit then Dain spoke, tilting his head in confusion. "Magic?" Now it was time for him to be incredulous. "But magic—"
"Isn't real," Laswell finished for him, sounding very sure of himself. The former Marine was still poised to jump into combat at the moment, and even how he seemed to be carefully watching the actions of both women, still vigilant if any of them even showed the slightest show of threat.
Rooker gave Laswell a look. He wanted to agree with him, he really did. Magic was the only explanation humans had for the unknown before the age of science, hundreds of years ago. Now in the 23rd century humans were quite a bit more rational, of course, and Rooker was no exception. Pathfinders were trained to think rationally, and that was something that was firmly embedded into his mind anyway. To him, just about everything could be explained by science.
Now though? He honestly wasn't so sure. He didn't know how to explain how the plant life on this world was practically an exact match of those on Earth, or how humans could have evolved here as well. The first thing that came to mind was parallel evolution, where completely independent species could acquire similar characteristics while evolving in parallel, as the name suggested, but this was just too far-fetched to be something like that. The two women also speaking perfect English was also just practically impossible.
There was something else at play here.
"The Wyvern has in fact been designed and assembled by the Boeing Aerospace Company on Earth," Ash spoke. She seemed quite proud of it, which was quite given due to her role as the team's engineer. She had to know her stuff. "Fine piece of engineering it is indeed."
Emmalie suddenly seemed to stiffen, and Rooker noticed her eyes drifting to the PDW in his hands. He gripped it a little tighter at that, feeling uncertain. Then she began to question him, and now it seemed like curiosity had given way to suspicion.
"We're here for scientific research and discovery, as part as our duties as Pathfinders. The data we acquire will be used for the betterment of humanity," Rooker answered snappily in a trained fashion. He paused, considering what to say next. Eventually he decided to withhold the knowledge that they were possibly going to set up a colony on this very world, this 'Gaia', as Emmalie had called it. "I'm sorry, but I'm not sure I'm at the liberty to tell you that now."
"Alpha, report!" The voice of Brandt came over his comms suddenly. "What's going on down there?"
Rooker realised that he had switched off his Rig's camera, so command aboard the Far Passage hadn't received a visual update about their situation yet. He looked away and disabled his helmet's external speakers. "Accord, this is Rooker. We've, uh, we've made contact with the natives."
There was a pause. "Have you engaged?"
"No, sir."
Brandt audibly sighed in relief. "Understood. Have you attempted communication?"
"Affirmative," Rooker replied. "And, uh, you're not going to believe this, but they're human. And they speak English."
Another pause, this one of stunned silence. "Come again?"
"Here, I'm transmitting a live feed now," Rooker said, and activated his Rig's camera. The mount the camera was on suddenly came to life, unfolding like a third arm and then aiming itself directly at the two women, the lens focusing just as an eye would.
VermilionBird
Of the South
'Magic isn't real? What-'
The one who'd argued with Rooker -- Laswell, she thought his name was -- spoke up. Emmalie frowned further, while Dain cocked her head as if uncertain what noises had just gone into her ears. Magic was plainly real, as real as the pendant around Emmalie's neck, as real as the grimoire in Dain's hand. There did exist some few mortal races on Gaia who were wholly incapable of casting spells, but they knew as well as any child that magic was real -- had a profound, tangible influence on the world. Possessed of the talent or not, the Weave ran through the bodies of all living beings, and if that network of inner mana ever ran dry, they would die.
Another of the Pathfinders -- a woman? -- mentioned something called Boeing from their home. The name meant little to Emmalie, of course, but she filed the detail away in case it proved useful to know later.
"The betterment of humanity," she parroted, still frowning. "A fine quest, if not a vague one."
She didn't like how quickly he'd answered, not to mention how little his response actually answered. By Emmalie's logic, if the Pathfinders' intentions were peaceful and good, then there was no reason not to simply say so. If their intentions were... destructive, then she could see why they might have something to hide.
Perhaps she should just be satisfied with Rooker's honesty? That he'd bothered to admit he couldn't, or wouldn't, tell her more?
Before Emmalie could press for more details, Rooker turned away suddenly, seemingly distracted or deep in thought. It was difficult to tell when all their faces were hidden behind full helmets. A faraway corner of her mind wondered what they all even looked like.
There were several beats of silence where Emmalie exchanged a puzzled glance with Dain.
Then a piece of Rooker's armor unfolded by itself. Emmalie stiffened, her hand moving from Eliz's crossguard to its hilt, while Dain took a defensive step back.
But nothing else happened; the motion wasn't prelude to a sudden attack.
Emmalie squinted at the gadget now visible at the end of the metal arm. It reminded her a bit of the eyestalks on a snail.
"What is that?" she demanded.
The one who'd argued with Rooker -- Laswell, she thought his name was -- spoke up. Emmalie frowned further, while Dain cocked her head as if uncertain what noises had just gone into her ears. Magic was plainly real, as real as the pendant around Emmalie's neck, as real as the grimoire in Dain's hand. There did exist some few mortal races on Gaia who were wholly incapable of casting spells, but they knew as well as any child that magic was real -- had a profound, tangible influence on the world. Possessed of the talent or not, the Weave ran through the bodies of all living beings, and if that network of inner mana ever ran dry, they would die.
Another of the Pathfinders -- a woman? -- mentioned something called Boeing from their home. The name meant little to Emmalie, of course, but she filed the detail away in case it proved useful to know later.
"The betterment of humanity," she parroted, still frowning. "A fine quest, if not a vague one."
She didn't like how quickly he'd answered, not to mention how little his response actually answered. By Emmalie's logic, if the Pathfinders' intentions were peaceful and good, then there was no reason not to simply say so. If their intentions were... destructive, then she could see why they might have something to hide.
Perhaps she should just be satisfied with Rooker's honesty? That he'd bothered to admit he couldn't, or wouldn't, tell her more?
Before Emmalie could press for more details, Rooker turned away suddenly, seemingly distracted or deep in thought. It was difficult to tell when all their faces were hidden behind full helmets. A faraway corner of her mind wondered what they all even looked like.
There were several beats of silence where Emmalie exchanged a puzzled glance with Dain.
Then a piece of Rooker's armor unfolded by itself. Emmalie stiffened, her hand moving from Eliz's crossguard to its hilt, while Dain took a defensive step back.
But nothing else happened; the motion wasn't prelude to a sudden attack.
Emmalie squinted at the gadget now visible at the end of the metal arm. It reminded her a bit of the eyestalks on a snail.
"What is that?" she demanded.
Corrosion
ur lite fades awey
The moment Rooker saw Emmalie's hand move to the hilt of her greatsword, he realised that he might have made a lethal mistake. The two natives didn't know that he was only deploying his camera and not a weapon, and hence they could have acted accordingly. If Emmalie had indeed drawn her blade, Laswell too could have raised his gun, and they'd have a standoff once again with Rooker needing to defuse the situation, and perhaps he wouldn't have the same amount of luck.
Worse still would be if Laswell fired his weapon, neutralising both women. Rooker had warned him against doing such a thing, but his role was to ensure the safety of the team as the resident combat specialist. Out here in the middle of a dense forest a long way from the nearest sign of civilisation Rooker doubted anyone would actually witness the act. The bodies would likely be brought back to the Far Passage in order for the science team on board to perform an autopsy, to find out how and why there were humans on this planet. The organisation Emmalie and Dain belonged to would likely go looking, but would probably write it off as an accident or something else.
That was largely the worst-case scenario, however.
Thankfully, it didn't have to come to that. Emmalie's hand remained on the hilt of her lowered sword while Dain merely took a step back defensively, but that was about it. Laswell had visibly stiffened, as did the rest of Alpha, but no one had raised their weapons.
Rooker breathed a silent sigh of relief. Things hadn't gone sour just yet. "It's a camera," he explained. "It's transmitting a live video feed of what's going on here directly to my superiors aboard our ship. Are you getting this, Accord?"
"Receiving," was the response, although of course neither Emmalie nor Dain could hear it. "I've been a Pathfinder for twenty years and I never thought I'd see anything like this, and I've already seen much."
"So these natives are humans, then?" The stuffy voice of Fernsworth came over the radio. "Hmm, then perhaps this means that they fall under the jurisdiction of the CNE."
"Are you serious, sir?" Havelock asked, disbelief in his voice. "You mean to say that you think that the humans on this planet, who have never even heard of Earth, are now property of the CNE somehow?"
"Perhaps yes, perhaps not," Rooker could almost see Fernsworth casually brushing the comment away. "In either case, it does make interaction considerably easier now that we know that the natives aren't some hideous alien creatures."
Kai grumbled something in Mandarin that wasn't broadcast back to the ship. Rooker understood, of course, and it wasn't exactly very polite, to say the least. Rooker shook his head. "Orders, sir?"
There was a pause on the other end for a few moments, before Fernsworth came over the radio again. "Well, if we are going to be stuck here for the unforeseeable future, then perhaps it would be a wise choice to request an audience with the leader of this..." he paused, stopping to check the intel that had been uploaded. "'Kingdom of Valone'. Our top priority as of now is to secure resources in order to ensure the long-term survival of the colonists and crew."
"I agree," Wavell added. "The ship contains enough consumables for two years, but as it stands, the technicians still can't find the issue with the Torsion Drive. If we are going to be stranded here until the drive can be repaired, or if it even can be in the first place, then we'll need to think ahead."
Rooker nodded. "Understood. I'll see what I can do," he turned back to Emmalie and enabled his helmet's external speakers. "I'd like to request an audience with your leader. A formal meeting between representatives of the Consolidated Nations of Earth and the Kingdom of Valone, and to function as official first contact."
Then he paused. Never once did he think that first contact with another intelligent civilisation was going to be between humans and other humans. He'd need a full bio scan of the native humans on this planet, find out how different, or similar, they were to Earth humans.
Worse still would be if Laswell fired his weapon, neutralising both women. Rooker had warned him against doing such a thing, but his role was to ensure the safety of the team as the resident combat specialist. Out here in the middle of a dense forest a long way from the nearest sign of civilisation Rooker doubted anyone would actually witness the act. The bodies would likely be brought back to the Far Passage in order for the science team on board to perform an autopsy, to find out how and why there were humans on this planet. The organisation Emmalie and Dain belonged to would likely go looking, but would probably write it off as an accident or something else.
That was largely the worst-case scenario, however.
Thankfully, it didn't have to come to that. Emmalie's hand remained on the hilt of her lowered sword while Dain merely took a step back defensively, but that was about it. Laswell had visibly stiffened, as did the rest of Alpha, but no one had raised their weapons.
Rooker breathed a silent sigh of relief. Things hadn't gone sour just yet. "It's a camera," he explained. "It's transmitting a live video feed of what's going on here directly to my superiors aboard our ship. Are you getting this, Accord?"
"Receiving," was the response, although of course neither Emmalie nor Dain could hear it. "I've been a Pathfinder for twenty years and I never thought I'd see anything like this, and I've already seen much."
"So these natives are humans, then?" The stuffy voice of Fernsworth came over the radio. "Hmm, then perhaps this means that they fall under the jurisdiction of the CNE."
"Are you serious, sir?" Havelock asked, disbelief in his voice. "You mean to say that you think that the humans on this planet, who have never even heard of Earth, are now property of the CNE somehow?"
"Perhaps yes, perhaps not," Rooker could almost see Fernsworth casually brushing the comment away. "In either case, it does make interaction considerably easier now that we know that the natives aren't some hideous alien creatures."
Kai grumbled something in Mandarin that wasn't broadcast back to the ship. Rooker understood, of course, and it wasn't exactly very polite, to say the least. Rooker shook his head. "Orders, sir?"
There was a pause on the other end for a few moments, before Fernsworth came over the radio again. "Well, if we are going to be stuck here for the unforeseeable future, then perhaps it would be a wise choice to request an audience with the leader of this..." he paused, stopping to check the intel that had been uploaded. "'Kingdom of Valone'. Our top priority as of now is to secure resources in order to ensure the long-term survival of the colonists and crew."
"I agree," Wavell added. "The ship contains enough consumables for two years, but as it stands, the technicians still can't find the issue with the Torsion Drive. If we are going to be stranded here until the drive can be repaired, or if it even can be in the first place, then we'll need to think ahead."
Rooker nodded. "Understood. I'll see what I can do," he turned back to Emmalie and enabled his helmet's external speakers. "I'd like to request an audience with your leader. A formal meeting between representatives of the Consolidated Nations of Earth and the Kingdom of Valone, and to function as official first contact."
Then he paused. Never once did he think that first contact with another intelligent civilisation was going to be between humans and other humans. He'd need a full bio scan of the native humans on this planet, find out how different, or similar, they were to Earth humans.
VermilionBird
Of the South
Camera? Video feed? More foreign words from the foreigner's mouth. But if she understood his meaning correctly, then the eyestalk protruding from his armor had the ability to relay what it saw across a great distance, effectively allowing someone far removed to observe what was happening for themselves. It was a much faster way of sending information than having to rely on birds for a message, or even sending a message through a waygate. It was arguably more useful, too; the chance for misinterpretation or further questions would be greatly reduced.
As Emmalie mulled over this astonishing concept in silence, another silence had come over the Pathfinders, too. Rooker's head was moving, a shake here, a nod there, as if speaking to someone, but no words came forth.
If his superiors aboard their ship -- a ship in the heavens -- could see what was happening on the ground, then it was only logical that he had some method of communicating with those same superiors. A kind of telepathy, perhaps? A powerful and rare magic, beyond the ability of most mortals -- but wait, his associate had claimed that magic wasn't real. What, then?
Again, it was frustrating and unsettling that she couldn't tell what the Pathfinders were thinking or even doing behind the impenetrable masks of their helmets.
Finally, Rooker addressed her. Emmalie digested his request for a few moments, lips pressed tightly together.
The situation was wholly unprecedented. It only made sense that it should be brought to His Highness's attention, that he might see and judge these outsiders for himself. Emmalie knew it made sense, but that didn't mean she had to like it.
She nodded, a curt movement of her chin. "Your request is reasonable, and Prince Merrick is unlikely to refuse a meeting once he hears of your presence. Very well. I'll bear your request to His Highness, but keep your meeting party small." Emmalie's tone hardened. "No more than who you have here.
"Southeast of these woods lies a town called Ashwin. We can all regroup there first before we continue onward to the capital of Valgrad, where Prince Merrick resides. It affords me the chance to inform my superior of what's happened, as well."
Knight-Commander Henryk of the Verdant Order was a wise and level-headed man. Emmalie was fairly certain she'd handled these strangers much in the same way the Knight-Commander would have, but still, the thought of trying to explain this tightened a knot in her stomach.
"I assume you're riding in your Wyvern. Dain and I came here by eagle. You can follow behind us, but I must insist that you land outside Ashwin's borders, away from the citizens' view." Her eyes narrowed. "Your strange appearances will inspire enough tongues to wag; I'd rather not deal with townsfolk panicking over a flying building on top of that."
As Emmalie mulled over this astonishing concept in silence, another silence had come over the Pathfinders, too. Rooker's head was moving, a shake here, a nod there, as if speaking to someone, but no words came forth.
If his superiors aboard their ship -- a ship in the heavens -- could see what was happening on the ground, then it was only logical that he had some method of communicating with those same superiors. A kind of telepathy, perhaps? A powerful and rare magic, beyond the ability of most mortals -- but wait, his associate had claimed that magic wasn't real. What, then?
Again, it was frustrating and unsettling that she couldn't tell what the Pathfinders were thinking or even doing behind the impenetrable masks of their helmets.
Finally, Rooker addressed her. Emmalie digested his request for a few moments, lips pressed tightly together.
The situation was wholly unprecedented. It only made sense that it should be brought to His Highness's attention, that he might see and judge these outsiders for himself. Emmalie knew it made sense, but that didn't mean she had to like it.
She nodded, a curt movement of her chin. "Your request is reasonable, and Prince Merrick is unlikely to refuse a meeting once he hears of your presence. Very well. I'll bear your request to His Highness, but keep your meeting party small." Emmalie's tone hardened. "No more than who you have here.
"Southeast of these woods lies a town called Ashwin. We can all regroup there first before we continue onward to the capital of Valgrad, where Prince Merrick resides. It affords me the chance to inform my superior of what's happened, as well."
Knight-Commander Henryk of the Verdant Order was a wise and level-headed man. Emmalie was fairly certain she'd handled these strangers much in the same way the Knight-Commander would have, but still, the thought of trying to explain this tightened a knot in her stomach.
"I assume you're riding in your Wyvern. Dain and I came here by eagle. You can follow behind us, but I must insist that you land outside Ashwin's borders, away from the citizens' view." Her eyes narrowed. "Your strange appearances will inspire enough tongues to wag; I'd rather not deal with townsfolk panicking over a flying building on top of that."
Corrosion
ur lite fades awey
Rooker nodded at that. "Understood," he said. "That'd be for the best."
They now had a decent amount of information, namely the name of the capital city of this Valone and its ruler, a certain Prince Merrick, it seemed. The civilisation here seemed to be run using a feudal monarchy akin to Earth during its own Middle Ages, although perhaps the name of the nation and its architecture and level of technology already suggested as much.
Still, Rooker had a feeling that this was a little more than just a medieval society analogous to Earth's past. There was the thing with the giant eagles, and now the fact that magic apparent existed here. Sure, it could be simply something the natives could not explain via the scientific method, but he couldn't dismiss actual magic existing just yet, no matter how skeptical he was.
"Orders, sir?" He asked. "Do we follow them?"
"Affirmative," Brandt replied. "We should keep the meeting small-scale, make sure the government of this nation knows what's going on first. We can't risk setting off the entire population and send them into a panic. Both of us need more preparation before a proper contact takes place."
"Would be funny, though," Duskin remarked, to which both Havelock and Ash immediately gave him a look.
Rooker shook his head, before speaking again. "Roger. Interrogative: will we need to make a return to the Far Passage for additional personnel? Administrator, will you be attending the meeting in person?"
Fernsworth made a sound like he had just been presented with a plate full of bovine feaces. "What? Of course not!" He cried. "Who knows what kind of unknown alien pathogens might infect me! The natives might also make an attempt on my life, if history has shown anything. No, I shall make my appearance by video. Your... pet. It has a holographic projector, does it not?"
R3X gave a soft whine, obviously displeased with being called an 'it'. Rooker bent down and scratched behind his audio recepting ears. "He," the Pathfinder corrected. "R3X is equipped with a hologram projector."
"Yes, yes, excellent," Fernsworth sounded a little disinterested. "Anyway, carry on. If I am to meet with the leader of this nation than securing resources to ensure our survival will be my top priority, as will negotiating a suitable site for the colony."
And also making as much profit as possible, Rooker thought, but of course he didn't say it.
"Colony, sir?" Havelock asked. "You've already made up your mind?"
"It's our best option right now," Brandt responded. "We've been talking, and we've deciding that this planet is an idea location for a colony. It's got a breathable atmosphere and a stable climate and magnetosphere. Ship sensors have also detected rich mineral deposits on the continent, and with the mining equipment we have on board it's a pretty sensible choice."
He was right. Huygens-381d may as well have been a death world for its rather harsh climate and hostile fauna. This was basically a paradise in comparison. Hell, it was a paradise by any standard. As far as Rooker was aware there weren't any other planets in the galaxy that came close to this one. Even his home colony of Providence, considered a rare garden world by many, hardly matched the features of this one, from what he'd seen anyway.
The colonists would likely also unanimously agree to colonise this planet once they were awoken from cryo and briefed on the situation.
"Affirmative. I'll relay the information," Rooker turned back to the pair of knights. "We'll head to Ashwin. My superiors won't be making an appearance in person for safety reasons, but they will be present. We'll take the Wyvern and follow you to the town."
They now had a decent amount of information, namely the name of the capital city of this Valone and its ruler, a certain Prince Merrick, it seemed. The civilisation here seemed to be run using a feudal monarchy akin to Earth during its own Middle Ages, although perhaps the name of the nation and its architecture and level of technology already suggested as much.
Still, Rooker had a feeling that this was a little more than just a medieval society analogous to Earth's past. There was the thing with the giant eagles, and now the fact that magic apparent existed here. Sure, it could be simply something the natives could not explain via the scientific method, but he couldn't dismiss actual magic existing just yet, no matter how skeptical he was.
"Orders, sir?" He asked. "Do we follow them?"
"Affirmative," Brandt replied. "We should keep the meeting small-scale, make sure the government of this nation knows what's going on first. We can't risk setting off the entire population and send them into a panic. Both of us need more preparation before a proper contact takes place."
"Would be funny, though," Duskin remarked, to which both Havelock and Ash immediately gave him a look.
Rooker shook his head, before speaking again. "Roger. Interrogative: will we need to make a return to the Far Passage for additional personnel? Administrator, will you be attending the meeting in person?"
Fernsworth made a sound like he had just been presented with a plate full of bovine feaces. "What? Of course not!" He cried. "Who knows what kind of unknown alien pathogens might infect me! The natives might also make an attempt on my life, if history has shown anything. No, I shall make my appearance by video. Your... pet. It has a holographic projector, does it not?"
R3X gave a soft whine, obviously displeased with being called an 'it'. Rooker bent down and scratched behind his audio recepting ears. "He," the Pathfinder corrected. "R3X is equipped with a hologram projector."
"Yes, yes, excellent," Fernsworth sounded a little disinterested. "Anyway, carry on. If I am to meet with the leader of this nation than securing resources to ensure our survival will be my top priority, as will negotiating a suitable site for the colony."
And also making as much profit as possible, Rooker thought, but of course he didn't say it.
"Colony, sir?" Havelock asked. "You've already made up your mind?"
"It's our best option right now," Brandt responded. "We've been talking, and we've deciding that this planet is an idea location for a colony. It's got a breathable atmosphere and a stable climate and magnetosphere. Ship sensors have also detected rich mineral deposits on the continent, and with the mining equipment we have on board it's a pretty sensible choice."
He was right. Huygens-381d may as well have been a death world for its rather harsh climate and hostile fauna. This was basically a paradise in comparison. Hell, it was a paradise by any standard. As far as Rooker was aware there weren't any other planets in the galaxy that came close to this one. Even his home colony of Providence, considered a rare garden world by many, hardly matched the features of this one, from what he'd seen anyway.
The colonists would likely also unanimously agree to colonise this planet once they were awoken from cryo and briefed on the situation.
"Affirmative. I'll relay the information," Rooker turned back to the pair of knights. "We'll head to Ashwin. My superiors won't be making an appearance in person for safety reasons, but they will be present. We'll take the Wyvern and follow you to the town."
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