Futuristic March of the Roses [Closed]

[Lucyfer]

It was supposed to be an easy mission on Andrasta. Go in, destroy ships and artillery, and return to the rendezvous point. It made the scenes in front of Sarina a bit hard to reconcile as she ducked behind a silo just before the last ship went up in smoke.

“Prioritize the ships, Sarina.”​

Sarina made sure no ships were going to deliver supplies anywhere else. ‘I should have bartered for air support or something, this is fucking bullshit.’ She sprinted from her position, ignoring the wailing as she caught up with Onida, who was nursing a wound on her side. “Come on, that was the last of it,” Sarina moved her arm around Onida, under her shoulders, and forced her up despite her outcry. “Stop being such a fuckin’ baby,” the wound was terrible.

“Fuck – Rin – I can’t,” she stumbled along as Sarina walked, bearing as much weight as she could.

“Then you going to fucking lay there and die?” Sarina snapped, not looking at Onida’s face. She had the best damned puppy dog eyes when she wanted to. All wet, all wide, all innocent, and as melty as chocolate. “We just have to get to the rendezvous.”

“And wait five hours. I’ll be de—”

The ground quaked again, and Sarina managed to brace herself and keep Onida up. The quake cut off those words, cut off the threat of death, and Sarina smiled as she heard that squeak of fear from Onida. No, she wasn’t ready to die. Perhaps people with guns didn’t scare her, but nature? Nature was enough to kick that survival instinct back into overdrive, and Sarina felt Onida return the effort to try and move, leaning into the help, and keeping one hand pressed tight to her bloodied side.

Sarina was careful in picking her way back towards the vehicles, parked besides a decrepit white vorpal, but all for naught as the stupid little farmers apparently decided to return the favor. Sarina arrived in time to watch their cycles get wracked by an explosion that tore most of them to pieces and scattered debris. Sharp shards nicked her flesh, but Sarina disregarded it. “Fucks think I won’t just steal a vehicle,” shots came their way, wide, ill-aimed.

These farmers were not combatants, and Sarina felt bad as she pulled her own slugthrower from her hip and fired. Perhaps it wasn’t as pragmatic as an energy weapon, who’s cartridges of ammunition could be charged, but it was exceedingly more satisfying to see the aftermath of a bullet explode in a spray of red through someone’s chest. And that was just what Sarina did, dropping Onida to fire back at those likely responsible for destroying the cycles, before a spray of energy shots got them from behind.

Marshall and Cass returned, “Fuck, the cycles? Really?”

“These people have been fighting too damn desperately for how much this job is paying,” Cass grumbled her complaint, “and now we have to walk to the rendezvous? Ugh.”

“Onida?” Marshall disregarded further complaining, heading to her side. Sarina stepped aside to allow him.

“The othe—” again, a quake, only this one came with a terrible hinging sound. Cass lost her balance, and Marshall went naturally to his knees to be at Onida’s side anyways, but Sarina held, hearing a high-pitched whine, before she saw the ground start to open.

It wasn’t near them, but the impact of it was obvious as hot steam rushed up, and seemed to obliterate everything it touched.

For moment, the four of them stared in stunned silence as buildings broke and collapsed, and people’s screams were cut off.

“We have to get the others.”
“We can’t wait for the others.”
“We have to go.”

Their voices overlapped, save Odina, who remained silent, skin ashen, acceptance written all over her face.

“You’re going to abandon them?” Sarina all but shouted at Cass.

“They know the rendezvous point just like we do! They’ll catch up! Bandersnatch they—they must have…planted something. And didn’t tell us. We need to get out of here!” Cass argued, but Sarina’s disgust only increased with each word.

“Get Onida out with you, then,” Marshall said, though anyone could tell that would be a challenge. Cass was not among the stronger in the group, a small woman who preferred to do things with her head, rather than her fists. Onida was no hulk, but she wasn’t gamine, either.

“She’s already dead! No – I mean – sorry Onida—” and Cass didn’t wait as the ground trembled again. She booked it.

Sarina raised her gun at her back, but Marshall put a hand on her wrist and forced it down, “No.” One could easily hear the ‘temper temper’ in his tone. Just as easily as Sarina picked up the fear in it.

“Onida, we’ll be back,” Sarina said, hating that she couldn’t afford to ask Marshall to stay and wait with her.

Onida didn’t say anything. She gave a wane smile, and let Marshall and Sarina rush back into what passed for civilization on Andrasta, shouting names, avoiding locals, and trying to avoid fissures that continued to spew forth steam, which seemed to grow increasingly darker. Sarina resisted every urge to look down into a fissure.

“EVA! KADIR!”

It was this time she got a response, though not from either of the mercenaries she shouted for.

“R-run.”

She saw Trace hunched in an alley, his face bloodied and blackened, bone exposed, an eye gone. Despite the horror of it, despite the fact the blood looked as black as necrotizing flesh around his remaining eye, she ran to him and slid to her knees to grab his hands, as if she might find a way to urge him up.

She squeezed them, hard. What was a little more pain in his condition?

“Trace shit—who did this?”

A gurgling laugh parted his lips. His head lolled to get her in his singular sight. “Monster. You…need to…run.”

Trace wasn’t joking. It wasn’t a hallucination, but he could still be mistaken. Monster? Sarina scoffed, “Like I’m going to run from a monster. Come on, Trace, Onida’s hurt, too. We can get you both back, just steal a cargo truck or something – it’ll be fine. Your face might even be improved.”

“Fuck you.” Even with half a face, the cheshire grin was unmistakable flashing in his eyes and pulling at his lips. He had one more trick left.

Humor was a good sign, but when she tried to pull him up, he didn’t even try. “Come—ON!” her hands slipped his, slick with blood and sweat, and she fell back on her ass.

This time there was no response. “Trace, I can’t….”

As she took his hands again, she saw his eye wasn’t following her anymore. Somewhere, between ‘fuck you’ and pulling him up, he’d slipped away. ‘Did his grip weaken? Did I miss it?’ Sarina fell silent as she stared at his half-face for a few seconds longer, before sighing and getting to her feet, mentally checking him off her list of people to find.

She heard Marshall in the distance and had to force herself to run to his location.

The weight almost wanted to sink her to the ground.

There was a hellish shriek, and the sounds of crashing, thuds – heavy objects being destroyed. Sarina assumed more of the fissures and steam, so needless to say she was surprised to see a monster – just like Trace said.

It towered over her, jade green shimmering wet beneath a black husk. It wasn’t quite taller than the silos it seemed to be destroying. It looked infected with whatever black had been in Trace’s blood. Her mind tried to conceptualize what it was, and fell upon ‘praying mantis’ as its arm swiped through a silo with a bladed appendage upon it, before the arm dove into the silo and began to glow that green hue.

Sarina couldn't comprehend why.

A pulse grenade exploded against the creature's head, before it fell down to all fours, and charged at something she couldn’t see.

She could hear fighting, and so she ran towards it, assuming it had to be her own crew fighting against whatever this creature was. Monster? No, just…just some fauna gone wild from the earthquake. Some fauna she’d never heard of.

She got around the silo to see Evangeline impaled on that backwards blade, grenade launcher on the ground by Kadir's lifeless body. Evangeline twitched as if she was being electrocuted, legs dancing in the air, as Marshall grabbed Rozanne to keep her from running for the grenade launcher to retaliate.

Sarina marked Evangeline and Kadir off her list.

"Get back to the vehicles!" Sarina shouted.

The Mantis –

'It's not a monster, it's a beast at best, and you don't need to fear it.'

– lifted it's head full of eyes and bloody mandibles towards her before tossing the husk of Evangeline to the ground. A creaking, piercing sound escaped it before it came at her.

"RUN!" she shouted and saw Marshall and Rozanne heed her as she stood her ground until it was on her. She went forward as the blades came down, under the creature's body, and she fired up into it – but didn't stop moving.

The grenade launcher would be better.

The bullet did nothing.

The creature danced around above as she moved to try and trap her with it's body, but she evaded and did get the grenade launcher.

There was another load in it – likely Eva's last act. Sarina saved it, and kept running despite the extra weight. She could hear it following, but she didn't look back.

She made it or she died.

No point spoiling the end.

The ground quaked again. Sarina didn't keep her balance, but she did her best to roll forward when she fell.

She rolled to her knees, pulled the launcher from her back as a fissure opened behind the creature, and launched it at the chest.

It was enough to knock it back and into the fissure. "FUCK YOU!" she screamed the last words of Trace at it, before dropping the launcher and running again, certain that was the end of it.

It wasn't.

Smaller tremors ran through the ground as if following her. She just assumed a prolonged aftershock. She was just getting closer to the center.

And then the ground broke in front of her and the monster –

'No, fauna, not–'

– with it's blades crawled up the sheer cliff made by the fissure, black steam obscuring it, making it seem a demon crawling out of hell.

Sarina blinked.

A blade went through her right arm. The shock of pain didn't even register. She stood there as if she hadn't been stabbed until the creature curled it's arm back to pull her down. At first she went with it, then the adrenaline kicked in. She dug her feet in. The blade cut further into her arm and started to tear more muscles and tendons. She went with it.

She tried to figure out how to escape without losing her arm.

Without dying as she felt weaker. As flesh blackened.

Sarina didn't need to.

The decrepit white vorpal plunged a blade through the creature and lifted it out of the fissure. Sarina stumbled forward as the blade slid out of her arm, and fell. The wounded arm fell over the edge with the right side of her body. Hot steam closed the wound and melted flesh through the armor.

Sarina screamed and rolled away.

"Get up! Jump!" Rozanne shouted, just at the edge of sense. She roused herself and looked at Rozanne. "Here!"

There was a thin area. The steam would still burn, but survival called her forward.

She jumped.

She burned.

Rozanne steadied her on the other side. Sarina felt her hands on her face, wiping at tears she didn't know was there.

"Marshall is in the vorpal. Come on, he's buying us time to get Onida and get to the rendezvous."

'They're not coming.'

Sarina kept it to herself. They'd get a vehicle. They'd find a ship. There would be hope if she had to carve it out of Andrastra.

Numbly, she nodded, and followed after Rozanne, seeking a vehicle. They were fortunate to find a jeep, fortunate to get it to where Onida was, only to find she had passed.

They still moved her corpse into the jeep.

And waited for Marshall.

Marshall didn't return first.

The monster did, bloodied but not beaten, with a vorpal leg dragging on a blade it was trying to shake off.

"N–no!" Rozanne's voice cracked.

"Get in the truck and drive. Now." Sarina said as she pulled her gun, fully aware the only thing she could do was buy Rozanne time. It was all she needed to do.

"Not without–"

Sarina fired a wild shot for attention. "Find a ship and punch the rat bastard Eireen or me and I won't haunt you."

Sarina didn't give her an option to argue as the monster's attention was on her and she ran forward before feinting left and getting around it. It followed, as Sarina followed the trail of vorpal oil and wires. Maybe she could pull a large gun off and use it.

Maybe it's armor would just give her five more seconds.

A blade found purchase in her left leg and she went down for the last time. She tried to turn the gun up, and she pulled the trigger.

It clicked.

Red electric light flared.

Wind rushed over her. Pain scraped down her leg. She imagined it split down vertically.

A deafening boom followed.

Sarina saw the crippled vorpal against a broken silo and she forced herself to crawl without looking back.

No spoiling the ending.

The core opened at the side. It was low enough to the ground that Sarina was able to take it, and between their remaining strengths, Sarina a able to get into the cramped core to see Marshall pale, bleeding from a head wound and shaking. The core was strangely cold – not that Sarina knew what normal was.

"Thanks," he said as he reached around to a button to pull the core shut. "Couldn't get a good hit when it was looking at me." And she noted there were no visual screens, just wires that looked like he'd put on his head, dangling down.

Sarina couldn't stand. She ended up half leaning, half laying, in the chair, doing her best not to be on Marshall.

"You look like shit." She told him, aware she must look worse. "Rozanne found a truck. Onida…didn't make it. Rozanne will."

Marshall hummed.

Sarina saw the blood splatter in the vorpal. She didn't need an explanation of the wound. He hadn't time to strap himself in well enough and suffered for it.

Adrenaline was rushing out of both of them. Marshall pulled her into him so she could sit across his lap. The process of movement did cause her eyes to see how fucked up her leg was, and was worse than it felt, even as the adrenaline was wearing off. It wasn't quite cut down the center, but there was a giant gash that may as well have torn her calf off.

Blood loss was going to kill her. She had no delusions otherwise, and settled against Marshall, staring at the wall, trying not to vomit.

Silence hummed around them.

Survival kicked and screamed for Sarina to do something but the cold made it all but impossible. The vorpal wishes quaked with the world.

"Why couldn't it always be this?" Marshall asked.

"Serious injuries and near death?" Sarina asked sarcastically. "I don't know, apparently I liked surviving jobs before today." Eireen of Bandersnatch flashed through her mind and she clenched her fists in hopeless rage. Tears pricked her eyes in denial at the truth.

"No, not…," he heaved a sigh, "nevermind."

Sarina knew what was in it and turned her head to rest her forehead against his neck, and stop her tears on his collar. "We were idiots, Marshall. All there is to it," she murmured.

His arms went around her.

These were always earth moving moments, weren't they? Not usually so literally. The world fell under them. The vorpal lost whatever ground it was on and plummeted.

Gravity was kind.

"Survival mode activated." A woman's voice chimed into the cockpit. "Heat rising. Detecting atmospheric pressure changing. Cooling down."

Sarina could see red through the vorpal plating. The fissure would devour them, cook them alive, despite the chill.

And if it didn't, she'd bleed out.

'But Rozanne made it.'

Marshall grew cooler. The vorpal response, no doubt, but Sarina no longer heard his heart. His grip was lax. She was in the lap of a corpse, and every part of her wanted to scream the injustice, but the cold was unrelenting.

So she spoke to the vorpal. "I'm already dead. Just save yourself."

To her surprise, it replied. "One life force confirmed. Survival mode already engaged." As if she hadn't heard it the first time. "Your vitals are weakening. Confirmed serious penetrative wounds. Engaging cryostasis."

Sarina felt her heart catch. "You could do that?!" And they were the last words before the cold put her out, but the last thought was sudden, unmitigated hatred, that it hadn't acted sooner to save Marshall.

~***~

Sarina woke to the same hell she woke to every morning for the past seven years – a universe where the entire planet of Andrastra was gone, and Bandersnatch spent every credit to erase it's existence from memory. Unlike that first time, she awoke in a comfortable bed, warm, without injuries – just the scars she never bothered to patch up.

She awoke to the ceiling above her head providing no comfort, nor the tablet at her little end table when she rolled to her side to look at the time.

Too early.

But it was the anniversary of Andrastra so that made sense.

Sarina silently got to her feet. Automatically, she went through her morning rituals of waking up and cleaning up, binding her hair back in a ponytail as she trekked to the garage. The gentle hum of the ship told her they were still moving through lightspeed and hadn't arrived at Cheshire yet, so she didn't bother going to find Remington.

That could wait.

The garage was full of the eight vorpals, including the one that belonged to her, the one from Andrastra. No longer was it white but charred black. A design choice, though it fooled some who thought it was weakened, brittle. They learned the hard way.

It was not to Ananke that Sarina went. The garage was a place to work not just on the vorpals but also the pilots. She found the speakers and immediately blasted music into the too-silent room before going to where the weights were racked.

If she was going to be distracted by her thoughts, she may as well go into autopilot and do some good while they played over and over again.

While she could imagine punching Eireen with her repaired, imbalanced arm, as she struggled with her left hand to lift the same weight as her right managed, for the same reps.

Balance was never easy to find after Andrastra, not even in herself.

 

[Kazanna]

Doubt

Ezra's eyes stared up at the massive ships covered in the banners of his sister order, un-ease filling his mind. He had spent the morning tending to the Rose Garden, bringing the envoys of The Crimson Cult up to speed on the current rates of harvest and regeneration, how they had successfully increased yields by well over fifteen percent from the prior harvest, a miracle in itself. He had shown the envoy his harvest room happily, every single Rose in a glass vial, ready to be utilized as a power core, every clipping in smaller device ampoules, and even clusters of vines wrapping around the very complex power cores that made up a huge array of cores for everything from the massive space ships above them, to other vehicles and even the legendary Vorpals.

But now as he watched the man making his way towards his ship, pausing to speak to Elliah, he frowned, something within him made him question if he should have revealed the size of the harvest entirely, if he should have stated how their harvesting worked in such detail. The man had been there for a month, promising that they were only there for a routine check up and a tithe collection, but something rubbed Ezra the wrong way.


Devotion


Returning to his duties, Ezra took to the main hall after the Envoy's shuttle had made its way up to the massive ship above. While the Cult of Harvest was one of devotion to their gardens, Ezra had studied many a religious text. He had studied the Cult of Crimsons' texts as fervently as his own, marking the details of their worship carefully in his mind, their tenants not so different from his own, though lacking the restraint and the willingness to embrace the balance The Cult of Harvest did. His entire life had been a path of worship, and faith. He had spent every free moment learning of his faith as a child, expanding his knowledge base to suit his people's needs. But now, as a literal shadow loomed over his beloved home, Ezra compared the two texts.

For nearly an hour, he remained in the solitude of the main hall, pouring over the Tome of Crimson, trying to find anything he may have missed in the Envoy's words, something that might reassure him, something that might bring peace to his mind. The sound of hurried footsteps and the great halls' main doors opening quickly brought Ezra out of the slight stupor he had. One of the lower priests, Vander, approached him, gasping for breath, "Ezra! The High Priest of Crimson! He's demanding an audience over the short-band!" there was a serious terror in Vander's voice as he looked towards Ezra, beads of sweat falling from his face.

There was a knot in Ezra's stomach that nearly made him sick. There was no reason for such an audience unless things had gone poorly. He did his best not to show worry or concern, he kept his face calm, and gave Vander a slight smile and a nod, "Very well. Thank you Vander. Please redirect the channel here."

The lesser priest was stunned. Ezra knew full well what it meant for such an audience to be called, knew full well what was about to happen, yet he was calm, he lacked any kind of reaction to the news on the outside besides the orders he gave, instead moving into position to stand in front of the holo-deck recorder. He had very little technology in the monastery, but the holodeck had been something that was required by the sister religion.

As he watched the signal connect, Ezra knelt down in front of the recorder, his head bowed humbly, "I greet you High Priest. I am Priest Ezra Solace of Halcyon's Harv-" he was cut off promptly as the holo-deck displayed a wizened man, battle scars on his face, one of his eyes missing, and his ancient figure showed he had at one point been very capable physically.

"I know who you are. Your introduction is not needed, I shall keep this short." the figure spat out cuttingly. There was clear ire in their voice for Ezra's very existence.

"The monastery of this world has supplied us with a lack luster, and frankly unforgivably low harvest. You will surrender any other stocks you have as Proper tithe or you will be taxed and audited." the elder priest spat out.

He knew better than to argue, knew it would be of little use to explain anything to the man, it had just become a no-win scenario with the mans first order, so Ezra stood up, facing the man, "You have taken all that Halcyon can give. Anything else would be to push the roses into their blue state." he explained, "My warehouses are bare-"

The elder priest interrupted him, screaming this time, "Liar! Our Scans show you have many other harvested blooms buried beneath your monastery!"

There was a pause from Ezra, Buried beneath the monastery? but that's the celestial root... surely this elder... "Elder, I apologize for any arrogance in what I am about to say... but that is not part of the harvest... it is The Sacred Celestial Root. We dare not disturb it or-"

Again, the Elder priest interrupted him, "Your lies will NOT be tolerated any further! You will step down from your position and hand the monastery over to my auditors at once!" the old man screamed at him.

Bowing his head for a moment, Ezra grit his teeth, before replying, "No."

The Elder priest grinned, "What? You refuse to Obey?"

Raising his eyes back to the priest, he confirmed the defiant act, "I refuse to allow you to bring harm to Halcyon. We have given you more this season than is safe already, our coffers will be stretched to their limits by the time we are able to recover from your tithe. Anything else would spell the death of this world."

The Elder priest snorted derisively, "So be it..."


Faith


Two Weeks passed, Ezra organized the neighboring town into a militia, holed up in the monastery with all those he could fit within, shared any supplies with the people he was able to. Their defense was iron-clad, and although the Crimson Cult's fleet was positioned well to hold them hostage for several more weeks, the food supplies in the monastery would last for years with the small population of the town.

So it was a shock to Ezra when he heard screaming coming from the main hall, the marching of boots and the sound of weapon fire echoing through the sacred halls of his order. Taking up the rifle he had learned to use only in the last two weeks, Ezra ran towards the great hall with several of the other militiamen alongside him. He trusted the men at his side and at his back, he had known many of them their entire lives, so as they breached the doors to the hall, he held confidence against an unknown foe.

His confidence however faltered as he witnessed the scene before him, women, children, the frail and infirm, being butchered as the entire legion of the Cult of Crimson flowed into the Monastery, their entrance one he himself had sealed alongside several of the masons of the town. Beside the head of the legionnaires, stood a figure that made his blood run cold.

"Elliah..?" He questioned aloud.

His sister turned towards him, raising her eyes to meet his, she gave him a brief smile, just a moment before the whole world went black for Ezra.


Betrayal


It seemed like a moment passed as Ezra came back to consciousness, choking on a gag fixed securely against his mouth. Turning his head slightly, he noted his new position. A whipping rack fixed to the prow of the Crimson Cult's flagship, The Crimson Spear.

"Ah! The traitor awakes! Good! I wanted to make sure you witnessed the price of your crimes Blasphemer." The voice of the ancient priest gloated towards him from behind.

He was unable to turn, unable to see the whip being drawn forth to beat him relentlessly, but even if he had been able to, nothing but what lay before him mattered. The world he loved, Halcyon, alight with flames, the surface of the world already beginning to crumble.

"Despite your lies, we were able to harvest the divine root! But your interference has cost the planet dearly! A tragedy, its inhabitants will burn because of your sins Ezra." The high priest mocked him.

Ezra watched in horror as Halcyon's surface fractured further, they sat just within range for him to gaze upon the monastery, destroyed and torn asunder as they had cut down to the Sacred Celestial root of the Crimson Roses, and torn it from the planet, stripping it of its life-force.

The vessel pulled away as Halcyon began to destabilize, Ezra continued to watch, his eyes fixed on the scene before him as not even the repeated lashings from the whip that beat him could bring him back from the depths of his own mind as he mourned his world. What he heard next did however, and in a horrendous way, bringing him to look towards the voice in hurt sorrow.

"Brother... isn't it glorious... what your sins have wrought upon this world... We shall cleanse Halcyon of Sin and honor the sacrifices of those your hubris may have corrupted... This shall be the cost that they see..." His sisters voice gently caressed his senses, bringing him back from the view before him. She stepped in front of him, her eyes filled with joy and a strange, mad glint, "The head priest shall cleanse you of your sins too, and you shall be spared that you might serve the order again."

Tears fell from Ezra's eyes as he stared at her in shock, "Elliah... why..." he asked her, not really wanting any answer, just not knowing otherwise what to say to her.

As if to punctate her unstable mind, Elliah took a step back from Ezra, shaking uncontrollably, she wrapped her arms around herself, hugging her shoulders, her lips split into a wide grin, and she let out a peal of laughter that shook Ezra to his core. She didn't answer, but then, she didn't need to. Ezra knew anything she would say would be corrupted by madness.

He felt the sting of the lash then, and after a time, he succumbed to the pain, his consciousness fading as he contemplated the destruction of his world, and if it had indeed been his fault.

-----------------


Duty


Morning came to Ezra, or as he went by now, Remington, as it did most days. He woke well before dawn, no alarms or systems to rouse him. His humble quarters were quickly organized and straightened, he took to the bathroom quietly, washed his face of the day before, and then exited the bathroom and turned into the common areas. He cleaned the common area of the day before as he had his face in the bathroom prior, organizing the area for the crew, racking tools and parts, mopping up an overturned jug of oil, disposing of any rubbish that had built up and finally, he took a moment to rack up the weight set Sarina frequented.

Ever one to keep himself busy, Remington undertook the repairs of several of the Vorpals that had been started on the day prior by other members of the crew. Several projects were left incomplete, but he tended to make sure everything got completed before there were witnesses to state otherwise. After he had finished with bringing the Vorpals that had been left in disrepair back to the state they were ready for battle, or as close to completely repaired as possible he returned each of them to their racks, securing each of them with either hooks or tethers depending on the design of the craft. Remington wasn't one of the pilots, but he knew well enough of how to pilot a Vorpal to make most pilots envious of his skill, so taking them to their racks was no challenge to him.

Once the garage area was back to normal, Remington next took to the kitchen for the crew. It was a modest affair, but he made sure there would be enough food for all those hungry as they rose from their bunks. He meal-prepped enough for each member of the crew, filling the crew's cooler with a mixture of nutrino bars and simple breakfast sandwiches. Re-heatable protein links, like sausages but made of synthesized meat and organic proteins, alongside hardboiled eggs from a neighboring system, the odd thing that had seemed to follow them to space was eggs and milk, and so pancakes followed the hardboiled eggs in great stacks that he put into a shrink-wrap to keep fresh until someone decided to get into them. Once he had finished, and everything was stored away, he returned to his quarters to bathe.


Peace


As the sun finally rose on the crew, and Remington had already taken the time to return to the kitchen preparing a large container of Recaf, the synthetic coffee was far more affordable as it was, and a large container of hot water for the rose-hip tea he was well known for making each morning. Taking a mug of it himself, he retreated to his work-station a simple data terminal at the edge of the garage, watching as the rest of the crew awoke one after another, he took the time to sift through various news articles, galactic stock exchange prices, the latest technology reports on various Vorpal Tech, and lastly he checked to see if any of the job postings he had previously been interested in had replied, and began hunting for other jobs for the crew, humming an odd tune as he went about his work.

 

[Lucyfer]

Sarina had been lost in the workout, in the music that pounded against her ears even without buds in them. So, she never noticed the way that Dina crept in as she did push-ups, until the very human weight of Dina fell on her back and crushed her to the ground from the unexpectedness of it. Dina’s giggles trickled into her ear, and with a grunt, she pushed back up onto her forearms and held a plank instead.

“Dina.” She ground out, irritation over each syllable even though amusement was finding its way into her tone, onto her lips.

“Oh! Rini, I didn’t see you,” obviously, she did, “I was lookin’ for ya.”

“Were you now,” she drawled the words out, too tired to bother making them sound shorter, more cosmopolitan. “Why?”

“Well, because Max was looking for you, but he’s afraid to see you before you’ve had your recaf,” Dina said, “I told him where you probably were since you weren’t in the kitchen, but he knew that meant you hadn’t had it yet. It’s about some solo gig he wants to see if he has time to grab.”

“And why isn’t he asking Remington?” She knew the answer to that, too. Max was no coward on the field, but where it came to social things, he was a bit timid. He didn’t want to ‘offend’ by going over her head, no matter how many times she said she didn’t give a fuck. Of course, Max was also the newest addition so he hadn’t figured out how things worked. It also, probably, explained why he kept using his downtime to do freelance jobs.

“Oh, you know, the guy who makes us pancakes is scarier than you,” Dina let out a startled cry when Sarina finally moved and almost knocked her off of her back. Dina quickly got off, and let Sarina get off the ground. Dina sipped her own recaf, “But I’m kind of wondering, too. Not that we’re deficient in jobs, but we’re still moving.”

Indeed, the ship was still humming along to their next location, where there was talk of plentiful jobs. Sarina had a brief discussion with Remington on it, but at that time, he had noted nothing was secured yet. There was the possibility another mercenary group had moved in before them and snatched them all up, but that seemed…unlikely. “I’ll check in,” she started to move, not bothering with stretching it out.

“Waaaait!” the black-haired woman bent down and popped right back up with another cup, “So you don’t scare Remmy.”

Sarina rolled her eyes, but took the cup. She had no doubts Dina already knew how she preferred it, so didn’t even hesitate in taking a sip.

“You should eat something, too.”

“I will, I will,” she dismissed it, “I’ll join you all once I’ve spoken to Remington,” she agreed, “so make sure not all the pancakes are gone.”

“No promises,” Dina grinned, walking alongside Sarina as they made for the exit of the garage, “You know how Uriah gets about the pancakes.”

The idle chatter carried them a little ways, before Sarina did split just before exiting the garage, to the work station that Remington usually holed up in. Oh, she knocked – but she was already walking in as she did so, and took position near the terminal, leaning into the wall. She didn’t recognize the tune he hummed, but she’d already accepted that as normal with him. Wherever he came from, it wasn’t her part of space.

“Morning,” not that it was ever morning or night in space. They just had all their clocks set to a core location to keep time with the rest of the universe, “Max wants to do some freelance gig. He have time for it, or do you have some news about that new location?” The name already slipped her mind. Names weren’t really important anymore.

She didn’t really want to know the names of places anymore, lest they become another Andrastra.

She could pretend better if she didn’t know their names.

 

[Kazanna]

Five Mercenaries Wanted for Simple Escort Gig, Heavy Load, Ten Week rotation through Olympus Mons Outer Zone. Pay: Negotiable, To be Determined.

Denied, Look for a cheaper outfit.

Two Mercenaries Wanted for Basic Grocery Run, Need Cheap. Stella-Luna Colony.

Accepted, Send Details to The Gardener

Full Crew Needed for Less than Honest Work

Denied. Do not re-contact.

Torus Needs Mercs! Inquire today!

Deleted, Spam.

In Search of Harvest Crew. Flower Pickers Wanted as well as at least a four man bodyguard team for Pickers.

Tender Details to The Gardener

One Man Gig, Need Steady Vorpal Pilot

Accepted, Send Details to The Gardener

Remington didn't even pause or look up as Sarina approached, continuing to scroll through the various gigs in the area. Nothing was very serious, a few small tasks that would keep them busy and some random work here and there that might earn the mercs some pocket money, but nothing serious in his opinion. When she took up her pose beside his terminal he raised his gaze, the odd fidget that denoted he had snapped his attention from his terminal to her would key off, showing her that she fully had his attention, even if she was trying to just gain it for a moment or two.

"Good Morning to you as well Rina." Remington said with an odd gentleness that wasn't typical of him. It would almost seem like he was in an odd trance-like state for a moment before seeming to snap back to reality.

"Right, For the "Steady Vorpal Pilot Gig" I'm guessing." he inquired, coming back from whatever part of space his unstable mind had wandered off to, "I've requested details for him. Figure it might be the same job. But who knows. They might be a bunch of astral kidnappers looking to turn a few creds on a poor Vorpal outfit like ours." his baritone voice seemed to grind out of the depths of his gut like a large basin pot being struck melodically.

He raised his left hand towards her, giving her a slight wave of approval, "He can take all the solo work he'd like, just let him know I'd prefer to screen the clients for him. Least I can do as the resident handler. Just tell him to forward any contact info he's gotten or any correspondents my way so I can take a peek at the very least. Hell, I can remote for him as well if he'll let me. Gotta keep tabs on all of your some-how." he joked at her vaguely.

Glancing down at the cup of recaf, a smile tugged at the edges of his lips, "I take it the equipment is free for use then..." He knew she'd usually work out prior to eating breakfast, and he'd usually give her time in the morning to have first grab at the equipment, even though he could easily use it prior to her waking up, something in him made him give her first shake at working out before he would go through his own routine, "Some day Rina, We'll have to compare methods." He joked, knowing full well that would likely not be something they'd ever do.

Turning back towards the console, he tapped the second to last option he had replied to, "Most of the gigs are pretty much just that, Gigs, nothing serious, but the pay is worth the time on most of what I've looked at, a few to keep our standing with the locals on a good track... but this one..." He pulled up the detail on it, it was vague, simply as it had said, but nothing else there, no details on what the harvest target was, just that a "Harvester" would need the guard of not one or two Vorpals, but Four. "Pretty sure you can guess what they're trying to harvest." Remington said obviously.

 

[Lucyfer]

Sarina arched a brow at the tone, noting the unusualness. Remington must have been quite far away in his thoughts and scrolling, but she wouldn’t comment on it. The brow dropped, and she listened to his report on what was available, and what he’d like from Max – to which she could only shrug. She didn’t know which job Max was looking at, Dina hadn’t filled her in on that.

Didn’t much matter if it was already accepted. Max could be thrown into it by Remington.

He’d just lose a bit of pay from using the Handler, which Rina wouldn’t mention right there. She had a feeling that was a part of why Max was looking outside; the fee was low, but even so, he liked his extra scratch.

“I’ll let him know that for the future,” Sarina nodded, before snorting at the comment of workouts. “Yeah, it’s free,” she agreed. It wasn’t the first time it had been mentioned, nor would it be the last, but it was empty every time. Neither of them had ever come together to check out routines, and Sarina had a feeling it wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon.

There was no reason not to share, but they both seemed…private.

Others didn’t have any issues joining her, even if all they did was workout on opposite sides of the room, but Remington never showed up.

And the conversation was easy to move by as she looked at the job he brought up. Her gaze was impassive as she read over it, but her mind was whirling. She was aware that Remington was very good with the roses. He was one of the few who could truly keep their vorpals up and running even when they took serious core damage because of it. Rose jobs were somewhat critical for that; they could usually talk their way into a bit of those as part of the payment.

“Mmm, I don’t know, durawheat?” Rina answered, the sarcasm obvious. It was too early for these rhetorical questions, but one corner of her lips still pulled upwards. “You’ve asked for more information on it already, right? We can always use more roses for our vorpals, and a job requiring four should be able to part with a few of those dear things as part of payment.”

But why so many?

“I wonder what they’re afraid of, though.” She took a sip of her recaf, mulling it over. Her mind always tried to throw up monsters, but that was irrational. She hadn't seen one since, and doubted she ever would. It was just local fauna...

That was the question, as to whether or not the job was worth it. “If it’s just a corp, I don’t mind throwing in on that. Any details on the poster themselves?”

 

[Kazanna]

The pokes and jabs of rhetoric were always an amusing game, but even untoward jesting and joking was the norm in high stress lines of work, and Remington knew well enough that she was being her usual morning self. He didn't take any of it personal anyways, and as much as he'd dealt with, he was well used to her attitudes and personality. Releasing a slight sigh, he gave a nod, motioning towards the terminal, "I have, but It'll probably be a while before we hear anything back. You know as well as I do the only crop they'd need four Vorpal pilots and a harvester for would be Roses."

"Durawheat... merciful one help me Rina..." He said with a grin and a shake of his head.

When she asked about what they might be afraid of, Remington shrugged slightly, pushing the Terminal back far enough she'd be able to see the full screen, he'd gone as far as to back-trace the sender, it was a portal address connected to S&C, "I wonder which planet they found a crop on. Everything I'd heard about was either in the Charybdis Cluster, or in Gemini, at least recently... But there's no planets I know of that S&C has claim to that have untouched Crops." he remarked raising his hands in confusion, motioning to the data he'd managed to gather without a response from them.

Remington knew of far more locations with Roses than he'd ever tell to anyone, even Sarina, more likely especially to her and the other Vorpal pilots in his care. He knew that simply knowing where an unclaimed world with the precious flowers was like having a stash of processed old world uranium during a war, and the volatility of the battlefield could allow for a pilot to be captured. While he didn't doubt their loyalty, he knew the horrors of torture, and he knew full well just how much tenacity it took to keep from telling your enemy anything they want to hear, just to try to survive.

"The only reason they'd want four Vorpals and a harvester is if they found a A Wild-Alice world, or if they found a world that had previously been pushed deep into the blue, or if they're worried about another outfit coming in to claim-jump." Remington made clear the worries that might be there, "But Four Vorpals... Has to be a contested world." he said with a shake of his head.

Standing up, he slid a drawer open beneath the terminal, drawing out two watch-like devices, a very pricy object that Sarina would recognize, and know of. Looking-Glasses, or LG's, (Brand Drop hehe) data fed micro-computers that held the same processing power as a terminal, but were also handy communicators that could sync with most other technology of the day. Remington had purchased several after one of their missions, and had been tinkering with them since, he offered her one of them then, an almost apprehensive look on his face.

"Saved up from eight of our missions to get these and the parts to mod them. I put a rose core in place of their typical batteries... ramped up the bandwidth and it has tracking functions along with a few other fancy toys. I want to eventually get one set up for the whole crew, but for now..." He shrugged slightly, "This one's bio-synced to you once you put it on. This one's already bio-synced to me." He held up the second one, it was slightly larger, and had a secondary band compared to the one he was offering to her, denoting something he'd done with it was clearly different than the one he offered her.

The LG would give her a full remote terminal in a holographic orb as well as a projection function that could be used a number of ways, anything from showing interactable battle-maps to creating a hard-light barrier that could be edited in size and density, or even momentary masking if used cleverly enough. Along with the terminal function it would act as a direct interface to any type of communication device she might want to use, even subdermal implants or other various types, and it had a hard link to Remington's LG that would be very difficult to block. The other upgrades made the watch-like device a versatile hackers swiss-army knife and for recon functions it could link directly to a Vorpal's outer viewers, record data, and send it back to a pilot.

"Eventually I'm trying to set up a remote-control suite, but... I'll need your help with that, and we'll had to mod the Ananke for that type of function. Might need a VI to run that kind of rig though." He said with another shrug, holding the LG out towards her.

 

[Lucyfer]

‘If you’re gonna ask rhetorical questions, Remi….’ Rina kept an amused smirk on her lip as Remi called out to the merciful one for aid dealing with her. The merciful one would never be that merciful, else, Rina would already be dead by now. The merciful one certainly never favored her, after all. Whatever deity did favor her, was no friend of hers.

Of course, she knew the only crop it could be.

She may not fully understand the situation that would call in that sort of help, but she knew how Roses created problems wherever they were found. Sometimes, she thought it might have been better to find ways to stop their use entirely, but she could hardly go that route.

Ananke required roses to function.

Apparently, so did these new Looking Glasses, which Rina gave a dubious look to as one was held to her. She took it, but that frown didn’t fade away at the offered ‘gift’. He explained some of the alterations he made, though Rina knew the basics of these things. Useful, of course – comm devices always were, and this one would have range, and tracking.

She shook her head a bit at the comment of modding Ananke, though, “I don’t want her to be a drone,” she said it as she put the LG on, adjusting the strap as she went on, “I don’t mind if we add a sort of homing function, but if you’re thinking of just turning Ananke into a remote vorpal, I’m not going to allow it.”

No, remote controlling Ananke was a step too far. If Ananke was going to fight, or do anything, then the curse of the adventure would be shared with Rina. Rina might not believe in the merciful one, or any other superstition for that matter – but she did believe there was something more to Ananke than just a hunk of metal. Something alive, even if that was foolish.

Ghosts in machines were just programming errors.

But the ghost in Ananke killed Marshall, and saved her.

She’d be with Ananke to the end to understand that error.

“There a reason you’re bringing this trinket out early?” Apparently, he didn’t yet have others prepared for the rest of the group. She was the leader, but favoritism didn’t often go so far towards expensive trinkets without her also paying for it. They shared things like this, and he indicated he’d been working on others for the rest. “This idea of a harvest mission got you that shaken up? We can refuse it,” she reminded him.

They’d refused missions for less.

Sure, vibes being off was an odd reason for them, but it was often a reason that saved lives.

 

[Kazanna]

There was an obvious pause of something akin to irritation in the former holy-man. He shook his head, "No, not a drone at all. A VI would function alongside your compatibilities..." He stopped his speech, knowing full well it was pointless.

Remington knew full well Sarina wasn't the type to change her mind once she wouldn't adjust without a severe reason, and his adjustments to her Vorpal were something she'd never want at that point, "Perhaps it was just a romantic sentiment to give you a bit more of a tactical advantage... I'll try it out at a later date with a different Vorpal then..." He said with a shrug.

As he strapped his own LG on, it was clear that the alternate modifications would give him an overseer role on the battlefield, as he tapped the secondary ring on the unit, it brought up a holographic display that showed life signs in the area, those of the crew, pings of each of the Vorpals in the area, as well as various other readouts, one of them that was clearly the coveted roses, both those harvested and rendered, and those Remington had in a small bio-chamber greenhouse he had set up in his own quarters. It was no secret, but to see all of the data all at once was something that shocked him slightly.

"System works better than I thought it would, it's using the Vorpal's sensors as well as its own, through an interlink I wrote out. Gives us eyes across the board... well, gives me eyes to be able to relay information to you." he said tapping several points, which then sent a ping to her LG, which would pulse, and show a smaller display version of what his was, just above the unit's surface.

"The main reason, if you must know, is field test them. I need to know if the battle-soft in them will stay accurate during a mission. I'm not going to rely on it immediately, but I need to see if they'll react properly and if I can send you real time transmissions remotely without a traditional Line of sight intra-link that we usually use." he explained as he tapped the surface of his LG again, flicking through different filters, until one showed remote activation options for each of the Vorpals, the option was grayed out, denoting that it wasn't functional, "Be nice to be able to prime the systems remotely at the very least. Spool up time gets people killed." He said raising a finger, towards her, waving it almost in a scolding fashion.

His shoulders slumped slightly when she asked about the mission, "We... could refuse it, but..." He swapped the LG's display to show the message, still unanswered, "I... Feel like if we do, something far worse than if we do not will happen..." A far-away look swept over him, he seemed out of sorts for a long moment as he stared at the screen, like somehow the wording on the message meant something other than its very basic request.

It was rare when Remington would fixate on a mission, one they had done, or one that was left for any reason or another, "I think we should just prepare for the absolute worst, and pray for the absolute best, but I don't think we should turn it down unless we absolutely have to..." there was the odd trance, the fixation, and the fact that even after a vague request, Remington wanted to pursue the mission.